Occasionally, one of these pictures speaks to me. This one did. Come see the Friday Fictioneers for more details.
A parking lot, 2:03 AM.
As she struggled, he held her still in the back seat. He didn’t wait to tug her pants off but instead sliced and rip them off with a knife. Muscle and sweat held her legs apart. Her own screams taunted and mocked her as they echoed and fell harmlessly off the glass and vinyl around her. Instincts said fight, kick, something, but she fought to not fight. Just cooperate.
After, flashing lights brought a little comfort. As the EMT cleaned up her own blood, she tearfully smiled at two tiny eyes and said, “Happy birthday.”