Just One of the Guys

Emerson

At the sound of his voice, I freeze, my hand still around the piece of board-unwilling to let go of a potential weapon, even with the knowledge that if he gets it away from me that he could use it on me.

"Always remember, whatever you use, make sure to keep a tight hold on it, because if it's a weapon for you, it's a weapon for them *against* you."-my older brother's words hitting me as soon as I have the thought. *God, do I miss him.*

*I miss all of them.*

*Except for my father.*

*This is all his fault, after all.*

All of this goes through my head in the couple of seconds that it takes for the man to get up from the bed, pull his pants up-although, he leaves them undone and begin stumbling towards me.

"Gordy, leave that one alone. You know the boss will have your ass if you so much as lay a finger on her." Another voice calls out from the front of the room, startling me. I had completely forgotten that when I'd first come to, it was *voices* that I had heard, not just the one.

"I don't want to hurt her-what harm is a little fun?" The one that the guy called Gordy says.

"It's your funeral." The man says, and then standing up, he turns around and makes his way up a set of stairs that I hadn't even realized had been there.

*We must be in a basement,* I think as I glance from the retreating man to Gordy, afraid that he isn't going to heed the warning that he's been given and *play* with me after all. My pulse races and my fight or flight instincts kick in as I scan my surroundings once more, weighing my options not that I have many at all.

Gordy closes the distance between us quickly, crouching down in front of me. I adjust my hand on the piece of wood, tightening my grip on it, so that if I have to use it against this guy, hopefully, it's a good and solid hit that will knock him out.

He stares at me, his nearly black eyes raking over my entire form while sucking his lip. I'm trembling, although I'm not sure if it's from fear or anger, perhaps a mixture of the two. Shaking his head, he rakes his large palm over his face and then stands up, "I don't know what makes you special for the boss to have taken a personal interest in you, but I sure as fuck would like to get my hands on a pretty little thing like you."

My stomach turns at his words, and I shift slightly, wanting more than anything to put some more distance between this psycho and myself.

"You should thank your lucky stars that you're off-limits, unlike that bitch over there. Or maybe not, because I bet an innocent little thing like you would get off on some rough fucking. I'd have you cuming all over my cock so hard that you wouldn't know up from down or day from night."

Gathering some of the pooling saliva on my tongue, I spit at him, my spit hitting him square in the face. "Fuck you!" I growl, and then brace myself for the blow that I have no doubt is going to follow such an act of disrespect.

"You fucking bitch!" He growls as he rears back, preparing to clock me good, but then he stops and laughs a sadistic kind of laugh and points one of his disgusting fingers at me as he snarls, "You would like it if the boss put one between my eyes for showing you how to treat someone with a little respect now wouldn't you?"

"Respect?" I bite out, unable to hold my tongue any longer. "You call kidnapping, beating, and raping women showing respect?" His face turns red and he lunges at me, grabbing ahold of a chunk of my hair, making me hiss at the return of the pain to my skull from his actions.

"You really are a dumb bitch, aren't you?" He questions, *his* spit hitting *me* in the face this time as he speaks. I'm barely able to suppress a shudder as I try to not think about what all kinds of diseases or whatever this disgusting fucker's bodily fluids might be carrying.

"No, I don't think so, actually." I tell him, putting up a brave front, "You heard your friend, your boss will have your ass-or put a bullet between your eyes, I'm assuming it's whichever strikes his fancy at the moment-if you so much as lay a finger on me."

He tightens his hold on my hair, causing both my scalp and my head to scream at me, leaving no doubt that he's pulled some of my hair out and probably made my head bleed. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, now will it?" He retorts with a sinister look on his face.

"You're funeral," I snotily retort, repeating what the other guy had said to him as I pin him with the worst glare that I can muster under the circumstances.

He just huffs out a snort of laughter, shaking his head back and forth once more, his crooked teeth digging into his bottom lip as if he's trying to decide if *his funeral* would be worth whatever it is that he has in mind for me.

Closing my eyes, I hope and pray for the first time in longer than I can even remember to every single God, Gods or Goddesses, Deity, Spirit, Gaea, Mother, Allah, Yahweh, Buddha, Brahman, and motherfucking Jehovah that by some miracle this piece of shit isn't able to do anything more, than the damage to my head that he's already done, to me.

As soon as I open my eyes, he's reaching his free hand towards my waist, and I have no doubt that he's planning on raping me, just like he did the woman whose cries I can still hear as she lies curled up on the bed.

But by God, someone out there must have been listening because before he or I can make any further moves, the door to the stairs opens and suddenly the entire room is illuminated in light, moments before the sound of footsteps against wood hits my ears and a tall man in a pair of dark slacks comes into view.