VIXEN

Laura's POV:

I never should have come.

Gwen swore it would be fun, But everything here was far from fun.

“just one rich-kid party, Laura, come on”

I had to agree in the end, and dragged my ass down here, but the second we walked into the Jack Hillcorps mansion I knew I’d made a mistake.

Too many drunk youths laughing and cheering. Their noise echoed through the whole place. They were openly ogling at every young girl in sight.

All these rich kids were really terrible!

I was trying to get away from one of them now.

“Get your hands off me!” I jerked backward, nearly tripping over a low velvet ottoman in the corridor. Red wine sloshed from my glass and splashed across my face, stinging my eyes.

He laughed.

Some blond trust-fund boy whose name I didn’t even know.

He lunged at me again.

“Can you just stop it?” I frowned and docked again stumbling in the process.

The glass I was holding, slipped off and shattered against the marble floor. Before I could scramble up, his weight crashed down on me, slamming the air from my lungs.

“Get off!” My scream was drowned by the music thumping behind the double doors.

My face reddened with anger!

Such show of pervertism.

I clawed at him, trying to push him off.

He grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. The other clawed at the neckline of my dress.

He tugged at my dress, ripping it apart. Cold air hit my skin.

I thrashed, kicked, tried to scream again. He clamped a palm over my mouth. His eyes were glassy, wild.

What had come over him?

I bit down as hard as I could. Something warm and salty seeped in to my tongue.. blood.

He pulled back his hand, roared and backhanded me across the face.

My head snapped to the side, I suddenly felt dizzy and lightheaded.

A buzzing sound was ringing in my ear.

Then his hands were at my throat, squeezing until black dots swarmed my vision.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream.

Was I going to die?

I gasped, “uh,uh…”

Trying frantically to pry his hands off with mine.

He punched me again in the face.

“Bitch,” He spat at me.

His hands forcefully pulled my dress higher.

I felt him fumble between us. A searing, sharp pain tore through me, white-hot and simmering.

I winced, and tried to push him off again.

He gripped my hands tightly and went in again.

My whole body went rigid. A sound escaped me; half sob, half animal.

He shoved deeper, grunting like an animal himself.

He was an animal!

A cold-blooded carnivorous animal!

I cried.

The tears burned tracks down my temples.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

There was only the weight crushing me, the pain splitting me open, and the wet slap of his skin against mine.

I don’t know how long it lasted. Seconds. Minutes. Forever probably. Then he stopped, fell weakly to my side.

I turned my face away, avoiding the bad stench of weed and alcohol emitting from him.

I caught sight of the shattered glass still glittered on the floor beside us

I managed to close my fingers around a jagged shard.

Gathered the last ounce of strength I had, and shoved it to his sides as hard as I could.

“Ahhhhh!” The scream that came out of him was inhuman.

Hot blood sprayed across my arm. His grip loosened for a single heartbeat.

I shoved with everything;legs, hips, shoulders.

He rolled off me, clutching the wound in his shoulder, gasping.