The Pull

Chapter 13

*TRIGGER WARNING*
This chapter contains descriptions of rape. Reader's discretion is advised

Once home, I did everything by the book; I showered and scrubbed myself sore. I did seven different facials, a hair mask and two hours of yoga. I cleaned out my wardrobe. I went to my favorite organic food store and bought groceries for a hundred bucks. Prepared four different Indonesian meals and prepped the freezer. Nothing completely whipped that feeling of black tar floating in my chest, though. Fuck Mark and his fucking fuckface. I could do this without falling into that bottomless abyss inside me. I was going to stay on track. Deciding I just needed rest I took a sleeping pill, brushed my teeth and washed my face, and then called it a night.

Warm hands were caressing my calves. Slow, circular movements.

"I want to hear you scream my name when you come, Puck." Hands with delicate fingers moving up the inside of my thighs, rounding them and going for my ass. Hands making hot pleasure pooling in my lower belly when they kneaded my butt cheeks, moving up to my waist and suddenly flipping me to lie on my belly. Him, putting his weight on me, breathing in my ear.

"You will be saying my name. Now, spread your legs for me." Hands, helping my legs move, gentle caresses mixed with firm determination. I couldn't help arching my back, pushing my ass against his cock. A low moan escaped my lips when he pushed back.

"What do you want, Puck? You want my cock inside you?"

"I do. Please..." Hands holding firmly on my ass, fingers moving to my core. Fingers, rubbing over my clit with agonizingly slow movements. Holy hell, it felt so good. I was getting close, but I wanted him when I came. I needed him.

"Please. I need you inside me. Now." Arching my back even more, squirming under his firm body, his delicate hands. Reaching around me he held me flat against his chest, and I could hear that low chuckle I loved so much.

"You are impatient, Puck. I like that." I could feel him aligning to my slit, gently rubbing his head on my wet folds.

"Please..." I was moaning, pushing against him, urging him to push back. To enter me. He grabbed my waist and thrusted, one slow, steady thrust filling me entirely. The sensation created small explosions in my sensitive nerve endings. I was so close. So close.

"You are mine, Puck. Only mine."

Something had changed. He felt different. I tried to move, to turn over and look at him. He pushed me down, shoving my face into the pillow.

"Do you hear me, baby? I am the only one who gets to fuck you. You. Are. Mine."

Thrusting with every word, it was starting to hurt. It wasn't him anymore. Not the one I wanted it to be. No. No, no, no. I could feel panic washing over me like ice cold waves. Not him. I tried to fight him, but he held me down, I couldn't breathe with my face in the pillow and my screams were silenced. He was being relentless, thrusting hard and painful, using my body at his will. He took a fist full of my hair and pulled, and I could feel how he pulled a lot of it off. He was grunting, enjoying my pain.

"I'm coming inside you, baby. Take me."

When pulling my hair, he had freed my mouth from the gag the pillow had been. I screamed.

I woke up from my own screams. They were terrified. I was in a full-blown panic attack, still caught in that vivid dream of Mark raping me but at the same time in my bed, covered in cold sweat, heart racing. I couldn't breathe. It was impossible to inhale. I couldn't get air in my lungs. This was it; I was going to die.

It took me over twenty minutes to get some kind of control over my breathing, but I could not stop crying. After over an hour of uncontrolled sobbing I needed to do something. There was only one person who knew the full story.

I called him. It was three a.m. I didn't care.

"Puck? What's wrong?" He answered after only two signals going through, but I could hear on his voice he'd been asleep. The sound of him broke down the last of my defenses and I cried even worse. "I dreamt of him, oh god, he raped me. He raped me and I couldn't fight him off. I couldn't breathe and when I woke up, I still couldn't breathe. I can't breathe – "

"Puck, slow down. I'm on my way. I'll be there soon. Stay on the phone and just talk to me, ok?"

I could hear him shuffling around, getting dressed, a door slamming. Him running. But I still couldn't slow my breathing, couldn't stop crying.

"Puck. Tell me about the rest of your day. When you came home, what did you do?"

"What?"

"Go on. Tell me. What did you do?"

"I... I did yoga."

"Yeah? What kind of yoga? Vinyasa?"

"Um... Budokon." I tried to focus on his voice.

"Budokon, huh? I don't know a lot about yoga. What's Budokon?"

"It's, um..." I took a deep breath. "Martial arts and yoga, like a mix."

"Wow. Sounds like some serious ninja stuff. How long you've been practicing?"

"I... I don't..."

"Sure you do. Think back."

He kept me talking. Well, he did most of the talking, but he kept me preoccupied, asking questions with simple answers I could manage. And just like that, he was knocking on my door. It had only been like ten minutes for a drive that should have taken the double, but I decided not to ponder on how many traffic violations he must have executed to get to me that fast. I opened the door. He stood outside, his hair disheveled, in a black t-shirt and grey joggers. No socks in the sneakers.

"Your neighbor has late-night habits. She was leaving when I got to your door, and she let me in."

"She's, uh... that was probably Susan. She works night shifts at the hospital." I was still sort of crying, but my breathing had settled a bit more from Ben calming me down on the phone.

"Can I come in?" He asked it like it was actually something I could deny him after having called him in the middle of the night and made him come here. I stepped to the side and opened the door wider. Once inside, he turned to me.

"How are you feeling?" He impulsively reached for my cheek, wiping the tears with his thumb.

"Like I've been hit by a train." He smiled and just like that he had his arms around me. I rested my cheek to his warm chest, allowing me to just be there, safe in his arms. I hardly knew this man. Yet he knew more about my dark secrets than most people in my life.

I reluctantly untangled myself from his strong arms and met his gaze.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I didn't know what to do and you are the only one who's got the full story, so..."

"Don't even think about it. I'm glad you called. Now, being the Brit that I am I know the perfect remedy for a crappy night: tea."

He took my hand and led me to the kitchen, adorably comfortable in my apartment. "Let me make you some." He made me sit on one of the highchairs and then went for the tea pot on the stove. "Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you feel it's none of my business." The fact that he wasn't looking at me while he spoke told me this was going to be a hard question. I tensed, but surprised myself by saying:

"Ask. I'll really try to answer if I can." He put the pot on the stove and then turned to me.

"Do you get panic attacks like the one you had tonight often?"

Yeah, hard question for sure.