Chapter 53
*Payton*
The next time I awake, my eyes are gritty and blurred, my throat sore. The last time I cried myself to sleep was the day we buried my father. This feels so much worse. As much as I loved my father, I was as prepared for his death as one could ever be for the much too early death of a parent. It was an end to a battle that we had time to prepare for. It was out of our hands, it was in the hands of the doctors, of God. This however, was not the end but felt more like the beginning of a nightmare. I had no idea how it would end. Would this be the worst or was this smooth sailing and things hadn’t even begun to get bad yet?
Where is Jake, why has he not come for me yet? I choke back another sob as I chastise myself for not having more faith in him. I’m sure he is out there looking for me, doing everything he possibly can to find me. As I silently pleaded for Jake, I heard the key in the door once again. I used my one hand to wipe at my eyes and try to rake my hair back from my face. The last thing I want to do is look vulnerable in front of Trixie.
When the door opens I am shocked to see Dean walk through the door. For a moment I am relieved to see him, thinking he is here to help me. All of Trixie’s comments and my recent interactions with Dean come crashing through me all at once. That combined with the look in his eyes has me cowering in fear.
He strolls towards me and sits on the edge of the bed, a fake smile on his face. “Oh, there’s my baby, how are you doing?” He asks with what I think may be concern in his voice but those eyes are blank. When I don’t answer him, he reaches out to brush my hair out of my face and I wince, pulling myself as far away from him as I can manage.
Dean looks at me, with hurt on his face now and asks, “what’s wrong babe? I thought you would be glad to see me.” I am speechless, so I simply shake my head. Wrong choice. His eyes cloud with anger, “hoping for your bastard brother?” he snarls at me. Then he takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look him straight in the eyes. “What the fuck do you think you are doing, fucking your own brother. A low life biker who thinks he can take what he wants just because of who his father is. Well he can’t have what is mine.” With that declaration he slams his mouth down on mine and tries to shove his tongue past my lips. I clamp my jaw shut, not allowing him entrance.
He pulls back with a smirk on his face and a gleam in his eyes, “playing hard to get are you? I see you learned some tricks since you were a 17 year old. Well, so have I baby and I can’t wait to make you take each and everyone of them.” The words, combined with the glee in his eyes makes me shrink back from him but his grip on my chin tightens.
“Please Dean,” I plead with him. “Why are you doing this? We were getting to know each other again, things were going well. I don’t understand.” I am trying to reason with him now but this is not the level headed Dean of my teen world.
He is glaring at me now, “don’t even try it Payton. You never gave me a chance, never gave us a chance. No, you are too caught up in HIM. Fuck, what happened to you? You used to have taste, self respect. Is that what you have been up to while I was working so hard to make a life for us, screwing anything that gave you a second glance?” He laughs as he continues, “Jesus, I knew you were lacking in the self esteem department, girls your size usually are, it’s one thing I always liked about you. Give you a compliment and you were putty in my hands. But you’ve taken it a bit too far this time, it is really not attractive.”
"Fuck you," flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. Oh no, now I've really pissed him off.
Dean is smirking as he lets go of my chin now and caresses my jaw. “Luckily for you, I’m willing to forget that little transgression of yours and your little hissy fit just now.” His hand leaves my jaw and slowly travels down the side of my neck to the vee of my sweater. He starts to trace the opening with his finger, dipping further under it as he gets closer to my cleavage. I am shaking uncontrollably now and I can see the heat in his eyes.
He is getting off on this! My fear and repulsion is turning him on. I try to calm myself down but the more I try to stop my body from shaking, the more my eyes burn and I can’t stop the tears from leaking out and sliding down my cheeks. When a tear lands on his hand, his eyes fly to mine and as they turn so dark they are almost black, he lets out a guttural moan. Before I can register what is happening, he is on top of me.
He has one hand completely in my bra now, squeezing my breast hard. His mouth is back on mine, hard and punishing. When he pinches my nipple hard enough to make me scream, he pushes his tongue into my mouth. I am almost gagging now, fighting for breath. He is getting harder, grinding down on me and trying to get my bra down under my breasts. I have to make him stop but I can’t get him off me. The more I move under him, the harder I try to catch my breath, the more excited he gets. I do the only thing I can, I don’t even know if it’s instinct or a conscious thought, I draw back my head as much as I possibly can and clamp my mouth shut. As I do, I bite into his tongue—hard. The taste of blood registers before I am aware of this weight lifting off me. The relief of his body coming off of mine only lasts for a moment as I feel the stinging slap of his hand across my face.
“You fucking bitch. You bite me,” He is bent over me now and I instantly freeze. Oh my God, what is he going to do to me now? I am terrified. Spit flies from his mouth as he screams in my face, “you are going to pay for that. You spill my blood, I spill yours.” He grabs me by the throat and squeezes. Again, I find myself fighting for air, only this time it is worse. The metallic taste of his blood and mine in my mouth makes me feel like throwing up at the same time I am trying to get oxygen into my lungs.
As his face begins to blur, he suddenly releases me. Standing up he warns, “I’m not letting you off that easily. When I said I would have your blood I meant it. And the next time you are gagging like that, it will be with me down your throat. I’ll show you what a real man does to a bitch like you.” With that last warning, he heads to the door and is gone.
I am lying on the bed in a daze. My sweater is above my chest, my skirt pushed up to my hips, my mouth is bleeding and tears are streaming down my face. As my vision begins to blur again I realize that I have no oxygen in my lungs. I can’t breathe and I can’t swallow. I’m going to die, I know I am. Just then the door opens again. I didn’t think things could get any worse but they just did. The mean looking biker, who asked about his turn with me earlier, just walked in through the door. ‘I wish Dean had strangled me’ is my last thought as I lose consciousness.