RUNNING BACK

Chapter 20: When Dark Monsters Unfurl

It's Cash.

He hasn't changed out of his football gear.

He hasn't showered.

He's standing on my side of the bench, inches between us, staring down at me with an evil smirk on his face.

I look up at him, defiantly. I'm wearing nothing but a jog bra and football pants. My heart's beating against my chest wall so hard that I'm afraid he can hear it, but I'm swallowing my fear. I don't want him to see it.

He moves closer to me so that his feet push against the insides of mine. His knees press along my inner thighs, and I can feel his breath as he puts his hands against the locker on either side of me, trapping me in.

"Hey, I wanted to see if you could help us settle a bet."

I try to breathe normally and glare up at him. "Oh, yeah. You guys wagering on how many picks you're going to throw this season? I'm betting that if you continue as you have, you'll average three per game. You could set the record, if you work at it." I sound like a badass, but beneath the bravado, I'm terrified.

He slams his hand down so close to my head that the air swooshes into my ear. "Nope. Not that type of bet, Thomas. No, see, some of the guys on the team are convinced you actually have a dick." He smirks again. "I volunteered to find out. I can already see you don't have any titties. Looks like I'm gonna have to investigate further."

I stare at him, panic setting in.

I jump to my left, trying to escape.

He grabs me hard, squeezing my upper shoulders and slamming me against the locker. Using his left forearm like a lever against my neck, his legs splay against mine, pinning them.

"So, do you have a cock, Thomas?" he asks, laughing. "Do you?"

He plunges his filthy right hand into the front of my white football pants.

As his dirty fingers probe inside my compression shorts, my hand clenches into a fist. Using every ounce of strength I have, I upper cut his chin. His head snaps back, but his body stays firmly in place. He briefly stares at the ceiling before snapping his head back down with an odd sigh of frustration. His skull cracks against mine, crushing the back of my head into the cold hard metal behind me.

The pain brings a wave of nausea, and I struggle to focus. My attempt to defend myself has only left him seething, baring his teeth like a Pitbull about to attack.

He snarls. "Looks like I win the bet. You have a pussy after all. A nice, soft pussy," he hisses into my ear.

I'm trying to scream, but his arm is choking the air out of my lungs. Nothing will come out. All I can hear in the silence is my own blood pumping and his ragged panting.

He moves against me.

The ground has dropped out from under me. The only thing separating me from the abyss is the illusion of control as I squirm underneath him. He just leans in more.

I have no control. Just impotence.

And anger.

And despair.

The despair because I've made myself so vulnerable. The anger because I'm so fucking vulnerable. I close my eyes and send a silent prayer to Pax. "Please, please, please, please."

Cash's weight is removed from me. My eyes fly open as his body is flung backwards over the bench, his head, shoulders, and torso crashing into the opposite locker doors. He rolls fetal for a minute before getting his bearings and standing up to face his assailant.