If the Trees Could Speak: Part I
Introduction:
My heart thrashes wildly in my chest as I try to gauge the look on his face, hoping I don’t find some telltale signs of a cold blooded killer. I suddenly wonder if this will be the last person I see in my life.
The city buildings gradually fall away to miles of forest and swampland. My heart gives a panicky jolt: clients never take me this far. I squint at the passing highway signs trying to figure out how to get home …just in case.
“So, uh, where we going?” I ask trying to sound casual as I flick my cigarette out the window.
He ignores me, turning up the music. I know he heard me. My heart thrashes wildly in my chest as I try to gauge the look on his face, hoping I don’t find some telltale signs of a cold blooded killer. I suddenly wonder if this will be the last person I see in my life.
Out of nowhere, waterfalls of summer shower hit the truck from all sides. Its incessant pounding matches perfectly with the internal warfare I combat silently. Surging forward with great speed, we slide wildly onto the exit almost veering off the ramp. Pumping my imaginary brake, I let loose a loud howl and clutch the door handle.
“You crazy motherfucker! Let me out!” I scream as we finally screech to a stop alongside an empty unpaved road.
He turns his head and stares at me coolly. My neck and arm hair prick from the eerie electricity he exudes. There’s a sinister twist to his mouth. Suddenly, a tan blur shoots out and my throat collapses. His sharp claw of a hand squeezes and pierces the soft flesh of my neck cutting off my breath entirely. His nails dig and bite and I suddenly feel tiny trickles of blood bubble and run to my shoulders. My eyes bulge as I struggle to free myself, my chest and lungs threatening to burst as my head swims with terror. But it is not enough for him as he bashes my head against the window over and over until I quit struggling and accept my fate, praying fervently that the darkness will come so I won’t have to live through this nightmare.
After the endless blows, his claw finally releases me. Oxygen races to my brain and rips through my lungs. I spit blood and cough with long broken gasps. As I regain consciousness, I softly begin to cry devastated that I didn’t get to die. The realization coupled with my undoubted brain injury makes my skull feel like it is about to crumble to pieces at any second.
“Listen, you nasty bitch,” He says darkly. “Fight me and I’ll kill you.”
I cower as far away from him as I can then begin to brush away the falling blood from my neck and head. Gently grazing the lacerations with my fingertips, I feel my soft black locks matt and tangle from the pooling crimson. The slightest touch causes me to wince. He chuckles with pride, sneering at my wounds, and flexing his taught arm muscles.
Snapping open the console, he pulls out pair of rusting handcuffs. Analyzing them with renewed horror, I notice dark red stains splattered across the metal. Motioning with his crooked finger towards my shaking hands, I slowly and painfully offer my wrists knowing that my freedom has not only been stolen but even worse, surrendered.
Once again his hands are on me. Ripping my blouse to shreds, buttons begin to fly and the material flutters to the ground. I bite my lower lip careful not to cry out. A switchblade appears and he pretends to stab me barely missing my cheek and eye, laughing at my pleas and streams of tears.
“Stay still or I’ll slice you from fuckhole to fuckhole,” He orders as he presses the blade against the bottom of my sternum under the middle of my thinning bra. Sawing at the straps, he cuts wildly at the wires and brushes my nipples with the tip. He pulls off the garment lifting it just under his nose then takes a big whiff. His nose wrinkles in disgust.
He looks at me then tilts his head back. Warm foamy spit sprays onto my face. I gag from the chewing tobacco that runs slowly down my forehead. Bastard. An unwanted and terrible flashback pounces and I suddenly think of my father who spat the same brand onto my face and spanked me with beer bottles.
My eyes are closed as I try to guard them from the brown goo that begins to slide over my brow onto my eyelids. The car door slams but I don’t dare to open my eyes. The blinding burn of the tobacco will only hinder my escape if escape is even possible. The hinges of the passenger door croak and the rush of summer air hits me. Tightly gripping my upper arm, he tosses me from the seat. I faceplant unto the mud feeling grit and rocks cutting into my stomach and bruising my chest.
“You better keep your face in the mud bitch… you ain’t nothing but pigshit in this world,” He laughs softly, his zipper loud as he travels down his crotch. “Fucking whore.”
Blue lights flicker and bounce of the trees. Tires slide and rumble across the ground close to us headlights pouring over us. Squealing breaks sound and the engine is cut. My heart soars as I struggle to my knees. He shoves his foot forcefully against my spine knocking me back to the ground. My face is pressed heavily into the mud, his foot resting heavily against my head. My nostrils fill with earth and I cannot close my mouth. Grit and pebbles scrape against my tongue and teeth muffling my moans.
“Sargent,” A deep voice calls in greeting. Footsteps close in on us. A sharp pop from an unfamiliar meaty hand stings my ass. My hope drains. My rescuer is only another enemy.
