Homecoming (Complete)

Chapter Three

After three days of looking for work with no success, Riley decided it was time for some fun and headed for one of the decrepit little watering holes not far from her motel. She chatted up the locals, bought a round of drinks, and laughed a lot—maybe a little too loud, but it was genuine laughter that was infectious. She made fun of herself more than she did anyone else—often making herself the butt of the joke—and the locals lapped it up. All in all it was a pretty good night. She had left the bar with a couple job prospects in her pocket, a mild buzz, and brighter outlook than she'd had when she'd gone in. Her wallet was a little lighter, but if one of those jobs panned out it would be worth it.

"Hey, dyke," a rough voice called to her as a dark shape stepped out of the mouth of an alley. She heard what she assumed was a switchblade pop open. "Why doncha gimme that wallet a yers and then we can discuss other...services...ya might provide, hey?"

Riley backed up a step and the shape followed, stepping out of the dark alleyway into the dim lighting of the one flickering streetlight. She could see that it was one of the men from the bar. He'd been clumsily hitting on her all night until one of the other patrons told him to lay off. He had gotten drunker, louder, and more belligerent as the night went on until finally he'd been shown the door.

"Please," Riley gulped, "I'd really rather not." She took another step backward.

"Hey now! Donchu be goin' nowhere now. Ya make me chase you an' this ain't gonna end well fer ya," he snarled as he moved closer, waving the knife in front of himself to draw her attention to it.

Riley looked around in a panic trying to find somewhere to run, something to use as a weapon, someone to help her—anything.

"It ain't no use," he said with a vicious grin, "ain't nobody gonna help ya. Yer mine, bitch." He lunged forward, grabbing at her right wrist.

Riley tried to side step him, but caught her foot on something in the dark so didn't move quite fast enough. Her movement was enough that her attacker missed her wrist, but caught a handful of her jacket on the way by, and the force of impact spun her around so quickly that he lost his grip—Riley was flung sideways and off balance. She stumbled and hit the pavement hard, landing on her left hip and elbow, and cracking her head on the curb. It all happened so fast that it took a moment for her to realize she was on the ground and, as she was trying to get her arms to work so she could push herself back onto her feet, he was suddenly on top of her, grabbing a handful of her hair at the back of her head and putting the blade of his knife to her throat.

"You stupid cunt!" he gasped, huffing and puffing like he had just sprinted a mile. His breath reeked strongly of booze and rancid vomit—he must have been in the alley emptying his stomach when Riley came along. The stench was so vile that Riley, already fighting dizziness from hitting her head, felt her gorge rise and her stomach heave.

"Now ya gonna pay," he growled in the back of his throat, letting go of her hair. "Ya move an' I slit yer throat, got it?" He reached his free hand around her waist and started fumbling with the button on her jeans while muttering continuously in her ear about 'paying the price.' She was on her hands and knees on the ground, and she could feel her arms start to give out under his weight as he leaned on her while trying to get her pants undone. She let out a terrified groan and felt the bulge in his pants, pressed tightly against her leg, grow harder.

Just as she thought she was about to collapse flat on her face, Riley heard a strange whistling noise, followed by a 'thunk', and her attacker suddenly went limp. The switchblade slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground just inches from one hand. She tried to reach for it but her other arm wasn't strong enough to hold up both her weight, and his dead weight; she could see the ground slowly getting closer as she fought to relock her elbow to keep from being buried under the stinking mass on her back.