Untitled--Part One

Untitled1

Chapter One2

(A/N: the "~***~"s are for different time periods,3

The "*"s are for bleeping out swear words)4

~***~5

“Get away from me!” She screeched at him, thrusting out her knee to a very sensitive place. (A/N: hehe)6

His eyes were grim. “You’ve got some nerve!”7

“YOU BET THE F*** I DO!” She screamed. If he came any closer—8

“You wanted this,” he hissed at her, “Now—hold still!”9

“I DON’T want to have sex with you, you mother-f***ing, son of a b***h, ***-hole!" She screamed at him with every curse word she knew, lashing out with her knees, fists, feet—anything. She already knew he could hurt her. That was one of the first things that drew her to him. He worked out, Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays. On the football team, track and field, and basketball. He could lift her with one arm. It all seemed so stupid now.10

“Just shut the f*** up,” he commanded, shoving her down. She attempted to jump up as he began to unzip his baggy, light denim jeans, but he saw the look in her eyes, he saw her muscles move before she actually did, and in a swift movement ripped off his belt. The slap from the slick leather came fast, and made a terrible noise.  She was in shock for a moment, but recovered quickly, struggling against the one, muscular arm that pinned her to the couch. His jeans were gone. He had the full use of both arms now, but still, she sent her fists flying to him again and again, although she knew it was no use. 11

“GET THE H*** OFF ME!” She bellowed. Oh no, no, no, no, no…12

The buttons of her black shirt were ripped apart with a quick, downward slash of his index and middle fingers, exposing her plain white bra. He moved quickly on to her loose-fitting denim skirt. Even though one arm was held back strongly, the other pounded incessantly on his face, his head, and his bare shoulder and chest. Her ignored all of this and unfastened the closure of her skirt with one hand. She tried to push him out with her free hand, but in response he grabbed her arm and gave it a sharp twist. A cracking noise was heard, and she gasped loudly—she could no longer move her arm. The pain was unbearable. She only just managed not to shut her eyes, but screamed even louder.13

He quickly pulled off her skirt, and underwear, still with one hand. In a blinding pain, she vainly tried wriggling away—he was barely visible through her hot tears. The only thing this accomplished was flashing her small, thumbnail-sized tattoo at him. She’d planned to show this tattoo, located on the very inside of her thigh—a place no one would ever see—to her husband, and only him. Her gave it a look of extreme interest, and now, pulling off his boxers. She cried out for what seemed like the millionth time that night. There was no way to get out now.14

~***~15

“Jen?”16

She automatically stiffened, swinging around fiercely. Ashley saw the look on her face and froze, realizing she’d startled her friend. “Sorry,” she mumbled.17

“It’s okay,” Jen panted a little, “What did you want?”18

“Oh…” Ashley smiled hopefully, “I was wondering if you wanted to come to tryouts today? They’d let you back on the squad, if you wanted.”19

Jennifer slowly shook her head. “Sorry Ash…I just…don’t want too. And I probably couldn't’t with this arm,” she gestured, with a half-smile on her face, to her left arm.20

It had been over a year. “Jennifer”, or “Jen” had changed everything—clothes, interests, personality, looks, and name. The sixteen-and-a-half year old girl last year, with wavy brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, and happy demeanour was gone. The girl who enjoyed doing flips for the cheer leading team, math, and playing soccer has disappeared.21

Replaced, this year was an almost eighteen “Jen”, straight black hair, the same blue eyes, and a quiet personality. She had abandoned cheer leading, as a result of her permanently damaged arm. She had discovered writing, and acting—and that there was more to life than being popular… and having boys run after you. Some things were MUCH more important than that.22