Violated (33 page)

Derek ran for the closest door—the french door leading out to the deck. He yanked it open and ran outside, Gracie at his heels. The night was clear but the temperature had plummeted. Ice-cold air bit savagely into his exposed skin. He slammed the door shut against Victor’s inarticulate screams of rage, but there was nothing he could do from the outside to lock it.

So he ran.

Since Derek didn’t own a boat and no one but an Olympic swimmer could brave the water at this time of year, there was only one escape route open to him. He jumped off the edge of the deck and onto the dead grass of the small lawn that ran alongside the cabin. Then he ran toward the parking lot and the path leading downhill to Russ’s cabin. His car was locked and he had no keys, so the parking lot wouldn’t save him. But Russ might, if he could make it there before Victor caught up with him.

Unfortunately Victor wasn’t dumb enough, even in his inebriated state, to chase him out onto the deck. He burst out of the side door just as Derek passed it and tackled him, throwing him to the cold ground.

“Fucker,” Victor growled.

Derek landed on his back hard and it knocked the wind out of him, so he was unable to resist when Victor shifted to lay his entire body on top of his. Fear assailed him and his hair prickled his scalp as the cold of the ground and sharp, broken blades of dead grass dug into his flesh. But none of it compared to the wave of nausea brought on by the feel of Victor’s body heat, his heavy bulk pinning him down once more, the stench of leather and sweat, the smell of vodka on his breath….

Derek barely managed to turn his head in time before his stomach convulsed and his lunch erupted out of his mouth and nostrils.

“Jesus!” Victor snarled. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Derek choked and sobbed, “Leave me alone….”

“What the
fuck
? You’re supposed to be a
man
, goddamn it! So I fucked you—big deal. Little faggots like Tim take it up the ass all the time. You told me you fucked him. Did he start crying like a little girl every time you drowned the gerbil?”

“Leave me alone!” His throat and sinuses were on fire, and the taste of vomit made him gag again.

“Stop being such a
pussy
! Man up! We used to beat each other up all the time. You broke my nose in ninth grade, and I dislocated your shoulder in junior gym class! Are you gonna fuckin’ tell me a dick up the ass hurt you more than
that
?”

“
Leave me alone
!” Derek screamed and put all his strength into the blow, smashing Victor in the temple with his fist.

Victor shouted an obscenity and clutched his head, giving Derek the opening he needed to shove him hard in the shoulder. Victor fell to one side, and Derek squirmed out from beneath him. Stumbling blindly, he made the mistake of running back the way he’d come to the back deck. Victor was already up and coming after him by the time his bare feet thumped hard across the wooden slats of the decking.

Derek sprinted for the french doors, but Victor reached out and snagged his arm. Derek wrenched himself away but spun out of control. He made a last grab for the wooden railing at the edge of the deck but missed it.

Then he tumbled, naked and arms flailing, down the wooden steps to the dock.

R
USS
HAD
noticed Derek’s car in the parking lot when he pulled in, but he couldn’t stop by before he’d carried his groceries down to the cabin and let Max out. His errands had taken a lot longer than he’d expected—especially with the accident on South Willow Street. Thank God it was December, so the milk he’d had sitting in the back of the Outback for hours hadn’t been warm enough to go sour. He thought about calling Derek again, but he didn’t want to talk over the phone. He was hoping the news about the DA would be an excuse to finally talk in person. Then maybe….

Max was pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the side door. Russ had already let him out when he first came into the cabin, so his behavior was puzzling.

“What is it, boy?”

Max ran back to him and whimpered.

“Are you really that desperate? You just went out.” Still, he set the pasta boxes in his hands on the counter and followed Max to the door.

Then he heard it. Something was scratching frantically on the other side.

He peered out through the curtain. All he could see was a mottled brown-and-black butt and a tail, but he recognized Gracie. He opened the door.

Gracie ran inside and circled him, whimpering with her tail between her legs as if she were frightened.

“Gracie?” he asked, growing worried. “Where’s Derek?” He thought about Derek taking her out for a walk and getting hurt, perhaps, or maybe having a seizure. Why else would she be running around unattended like this?

Russ stepped out onto the stoop and looked up at Derek’s cabin. Then he heard the shouting.

D
EREK
LAY
on the dock, flat on his back at the foot of the steps, his entire body in pain. He’d hurt both knees and his hip in the tumble and scraped skin off several places, but the shooting pain in his right arm was the worst. He was sure he’d broken something.

He was dimly aware of footsteps clunking down the wooden steps, coming toward him. Then the dock shuddered as Victor jumped down onto it and stood over him.

Derek had moved beyond terror to a place where he was just observing, watching things unfold. He was helpless, and he knew he was going to be raped or killed or both, but it didn’t matter anymore. He couldn’t feel fear. He couldn’t feel… anything. He watched Victor’s face come into view, saw the fury in his eyes, the way his iron jaw was set.

Victor fell to his knees straddling him, causing the dock to shake again. “You stupid fuck! You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

When Derek stared blankly back at him, he lowered his face until Derek wondered if Victor was going to kiss him. “We’ve been best friends for fucking ever! Why the hell can’t you suck it up so we can get on with our lives? It was
no!
…
big!
…
deal!
”

“You… destroyed… me.” Derek felt as if he were hearing his own voice coming out of mile long tunnel, faint and ghostly.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Victor spat back at him. “Do it to me, if it’ll make you happy!”

“What?”

“Fuck me! As hard as you want! Make it hurt! Make it
bleed
! I’ll just lie there and take it, if that’s what you need to get over this!”

Derek stared at him, uncomprehending. From somewhere far off, he heard another voice—Russ—shouting something, but he couldn’t process the words. His brain had seized up like an engine filled with sand.

Then Victor turned to look up at the deck, and in that moment, Derek felt himself back in his body. A flood of fear and disgust and anger… and
hatred
… filled him to overflowing. He found his voice again and half shouted, half sobbed, “You… sick…
fuck
!”

Despite the pain in his body, he lashed out, smashing his left forearm into Victor’s face.

R
USS
WAS
out of shape. He hadn’t been aware of it until this moment, after running up the hill as fast as he could, his lungs feeling as if they would burst. He staggered up to Derek’s cabin, gasping for air, but as he raised his fist to knock on the door, he heard voices shouting.

They weren’t coming from inside but from behind the cabin.

Russ ran to the deck, but nobody was there either. What sounded like a fight drew him to the steps, and he looked down with horror at the dock, where Victor was on all fours on top of a naked Derek, shouting something about him getting over it.

“Get off him!” Russ screamed. “This is the police!” Of course, he hadn’t thought to grab his gun when he left the cabin.

Russ half ran and half stumbled down the steps as Derek shouted something he couldn’t make out over the sound of his footsteps on the wooden boards and landed a good punch to Victor’s face.

Victor roared and looked as if he was going to pummel Derek with both fists, but Russ tackled him from the side. Both men slammed into the dock, rolled, and fell off the edge into the ice-cold lake. The frigid water cut into Russ’s flesh like razorblades, causing him to gasp in pain. He choked on it, the water tasting of silt and fish. It wasn’t very deep, but it was dark, and Victor’s massive bulk was dead weight on top of him. They sank until Russ’s back hit the muck on the bottom of the lake. He struggled against the weight holding him down and quickly realized Victor wasn’t fighting him. The man wasn’t moving at all.

Shit!

Russ heaved with all his strength and managed to push Victor to one side and off him. His hands and knees found the muddy bottom of the lake and he shoved his head up and out of the water, choking and gasping for air.

Derek’s voice cried out “Russ!” but the water in his ears made it sound far away. He stood in the waist-high water, struggling to keep his balance in the small waves lapping at his stomach. A quick glance around showed that he and Victor had drifted about ten feet from the dock. Derek was kneeling at the edge, looking pathetic as he cradled his right arm and shivered uncontrollably. Russ wanted to go to him, to get him inside where it was warm, but he didn’t have time.

Victor was still floating facedown beside him, and Russ grabbed the man’s clothing for purchase, then heaved him onto his back. His face was waxy and slack in the dim light, his eyes closed. Water sloshed over his face and into his mouth, yet he didn’t react. He was clearly unconscious and not breathing.

Russ’s first-aid training kicked in, forcing him to haul Victor’s body to the dock, despite how much he hated the man. When he got there, he climbed out of the water, with Derek trying to help him with one hand. What was wrong with his right arm? Was it broken?

Kneeling on the wooden platform, his clothing soaked with ice water and the chill air searing his skin, Russ hauled Victor out of the water and laid him flat on the dock.

“Get inside!” he ordered Derek. “Call 911! And get yourself warm!” He was aware of Derek slowly getting up and moving away, but his attention focused on Victor. He rolled the man onto his side and water poured out of his mouth. There was a gash on the side of Victor’s head where he appeared to have hit something—perhaps the edge of the dock or something jutting up from the bottom of the lake.

Then, as he was trained to do, despite whatever he might be feeling, Russ began CPR.

O
NE
OF
the benefits of a town the size of Rockford was it didn’t take long for emergency responders to get from one place to another. The ambulance and police arrived less than ten minutes after Derek placed the call to 911. He was still on the phone with the 911 operator, giving details about the fight and what he knew of everyone’s condition, when an officer knocked on his side door. Derek opened it and tried to direct him to the dock, but the officer took one look at him and ordered one of the EMTs to follow him inside. The other EMT and police officer went to the back of the cabin, carrying a folded stretcher.

Derek had managed to put on sweatpants while he was talking on the phone, so he was no longer naked. But there had been no way to wrestle a shirt over his arm. From his elbow to his wrist was swollen and inflamed and had turned red and purple with bruising.

He sat on his couch, barely aware of his surroundings, while the officer questioned him about the attack and the EMT checked his pulse and temperature, then put his lower arm in a temporary splint and sling. The pain was intense, but he bore it without comment, gritting his teeth whenever the woman had to move the arm. He felt removed from everything, as if he were watching from outside his body, though he couldn’t actually see anything from that vantage point. Whenever he was forced to answer one of the officer’s questions, it came out flat and monotone.

“Can you rate your pain for me?” the EMT asked. “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the highest?”

Derek forced himself to talk. “Eight.”

He didn’t want to go to the hospital. He didn’t want to deal with people—these two were hard enough. He just wanted to sleep. But his arm was throbbing, and part of him understood it would have to be dealt with properly if it was to heal. He had other injuries on his hip and knees, but he didn’t want to tell the EMT about them. That would require him to lower the sweatpants.

“When we get you into the ambulance,” she told him, “we’ll be able to give you something for the pain.”

The thought of being surrounded by people in the ER made his skin crawl. If he was going to let a doctor examine him, he didn’t want to be stark naked with his dick hanging out. Somehow, he needed to change into underwear, pants, and at least a jacket or something.

They heard the sounds of people climbing the steps to the deck. A moment later Russ entered, shivering and hunched over in a Mylar blanket. Through the door Derek could see the EMTs wrestling Victor up the steps on the stretcher and heading around the cabin. He quickly looked away.

“Jesus, I’m cold!” Russ exclaimed. He looked at Derek, hesitated a moment, and asked, “Do you mind if I change?”

Derek shook his head.

The officer watched curiously as Russ went into the bedroom. “He keeps his clothes here?”

Derek didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not, considering the circumstances. He simply answered, “Yes.”

The officer nodded and jotted something down on his notepad.

Russ came out of the bedroom a moment later, dressed in sweats and one of the T-shirts he hadn’t bothered to take with him when Derek more or less kicked him out. He carried his wet clothes into the bathroom, and Derek heard him toss them into the tub.

“Did you get Russ Thomas’s report?” the officer asked over his walkie-talkie.