23

0.2

TRIGGER WARNING! RAPE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT PLEASE BE CAREFUL READING THIS CHAPTER!

Fridays were my days to close up the cafe. I wiped the tables down again since the other new girl who works here is too busy bending down so others can see her thong to actually clean them herself. I put the chairs up, swept, did all the un-fun parts of the job and finally got to the locker in the far back of the break room and pulled my sweater on. I took the keys and locked the front door, jiggling it a little bit as it always sticks. I'm no Sherlock but it certainly shouldn't take a person more than a second to lock the door. In my case, it takes five minutes. I heard the little click and hooked the keys to my belt loop and started to head home. The streets near the cafe, especially at night, were very eerie. I hated Fridays just for that reason. All the other girls are more badass than I am, physically at least. I couldn't win an arm wrestle with a kid even if I tried. 

The drive home seemed shorter that night. I must've spaced out as I pulled into my apartment complex's parking lot. In what seemed like ten minutes i had arrived despite the twenty minute drive from the cafe. I had even forgotten to go to the convenience store to pick up cigarettes. I never forget them. Usually I take my time to look at the street lights coming on with the sun going down earlier these days, but that day I had a strange feeling that just wouldn't go away.

I pulled into my space, the only one with the apartment number completely covered in children's chalk. Every other tenant was too old and mean to let the kids have creative freedom on the asphalt, so, I let them go at it when I'm off at work. 

I put my car in park and tried to turn on the e-brake, but being the asshole that it is, it decided to stick once again. I hit it in frustration and just got out of the car, locking it after hearing the door slam closed. My apartment number was 23, the one perfectly in front of the stairs that led up to the floor it sat. Halfway up the steps, I heard footsteps behind me. I peaked over my shoulder to see two men, quite obviously bigger than me. It wouldn't be difficult for them to overpower me, so at that moment I slipped my key in between my fingers as a makeshift weapon. 

"Hey," one of the men said slyly. "That Impala yours?" 

The other man, the bigger of the two pointed over to my car. "Yeah, what about it?" I said, trying to sound brave, but instead, I heard my voice quiver. 'Pussy.' I thought to myself, upset at my only chance to seem courageous. 

"It's really nice, you know. On the brink of being a classic!" the big guy exclaimed. The smaller one took a step up the stairs, my legs automatically doing the same, taking me backwards up a step. I nodded.

"Can you take us for a ride?" he said, coming up another step. "Come on, we don't bite." He smirked at me, taking another step up. I gripped the key harder behind my back. 

"I don't think so," I said, taking another step backwards. This time the bigger guy came up to the same step as his buddy, blocking my only escape route. "It's getting kinda la-"

"Please?" the small guy said, smirking. "I asked nicely, it'd be rude for you to turn us down." His friend nodded. 

"Good thing I'm not very nice," I remarked, turning around to hurry up the rest of the stairs. I felt a hand on my wrist, pulling me down the steps and down to a level to where I was face to face with the boys. 

"It's rude to turn your back on people," the big guy said, tightening his grip on my wrist. His friend took my other hand and pried the key from my hand, dropping it between the gaps in the stairs. I was too petrified to say anything, all that came out of my mouth was silent screams for help. They dragged me up the stairs, passed my apartment and to one at the end of the line. The smaller one fumbled with his key, but got the door open in record timing. I had finally gotten back into a state of mind where I could fight back, but it was no use against these two men. They overpowered me easily, not even having to lift a finger most of the time. 

They owned the rest of that night. I remember every scratch, every cut I got from their zip-ties. I remember every harsh motion, every painful bruise they gave me, the feeling of suffocation from their makeshift gag, from the pillow on my face. They weren't scared of the consequences of their actions because they knew they wouldn't be caught. They knew no matter how hard they hit me, no matter how many times they took turns with me, they wouldn't be caught. There was no witnesses, I didn't have their names or a helpful description as the only source of light out there was the light in my car that never went out. 

And just as they decided they were done with me, as they took me out into the cold night and put me on the rough steps, they stepped over me, and slowly walked out into the streetlight lit sidewalks with no remorse for what they had done. They walked away like nothing had happened. 

In their minds, I was the rude one.