PANTY RAID

93| Broken: Part II

~ Adedayo ~

Dayo's jaw clenched and unclenched in barely controlled fury as an unruly wind roared past. He ground his teeth and silently cursed himself for his impulsivity. He shouldn't have reacted the way he did.

He raised a hand to his cheek, remembering clearly the sting of her slap. It hadn't surprised him at all that she'd slapped him; he knew he had it coming. God, he was such a fucking asshole, wasn't he? Projecting his own twisted thoughts onto her and accusing her of trying to get some action with a fucking stranger.

Remorse washed over him in sickening waves. Damn near drowned him. He swore under his breath and raked his fingers through his hair. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Hadn't meant to make her cry. He should go after her and apologize for being an asshole. Or try to. She most likely hated him more than she already did, and he couldn't blame her.

Jagged spears of lightning lit up the sky as he retraced her footsteps. Both the light and the music from the frat house grew fainter the further he walked.

"Eniola?" he called out, the light from his phone's flashlight casting shadows around him, but there was no answer. Undeterred, he continued walking further and calling her name, his voice growing louder each time.

The air pulsed as thunder rumbled ominously, then crashed and howled overhead. Suddenly, a great fork of lightning lit up the unnaturally dark sky, sending a deep and unsettling feeling of unease creeping down his spine. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

No sooner had he finished this thought when a chilling scream pierced the air, causing his heart to freeze in fear and adrenaline flooding his system. Eniola.

With every fiber of his being on edge, he bolted towards the source of the sound. At that moment, the heavens opened up, and rain came hammering down like a volley of arrows in a medieval siege, pricking his face like needles and drenching his clothes in the blink of an eye. 

"Eniola," he yelled desperately, but the rain fell with such ferocity that his words were swallowed by its deafening roar.

Turning sharply to his left, Dayo stopped dead in his tracks as he took stock of the scene before him. Eniola, his Eniola, her clothes torn and her body exposed, struggling beneath a man twice her size, his hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

Rage unlike any he had ever experienced surged through him like a bolt of lightning. It didn't build or grow; it didn't allow him time to think or rationalize. It simply engulfed him. Dominating. Permeating. Clouding his vision in a murderous haze.

The son of a bitch barely had time to process what was happening before Dayo blindsided him, sending both of them sprawling to the ground.

"How dare you lay a hand on her, you bastard!" he yelled, jerking him up by his collar and slamming his fist into his nose.

His fist repeatedly collided with his jaw, the sickening sound of his nose crunching beneath his fist fueling his fury. He didn't stop even as blood spurted from his mouth, its metallic scent mingling with the scent of the rain. The fear he'd seen in Eniola's eyes shattered any semblance of rational thought, replaced by an overwhelming urge to exact revenge — a primal need to tear him limb from limb for daring to lay a hand on the woman he loved.

He struggled to fight back with what little strength was left in him, but Dayo's fist collided with his jaw with a nauseating crack. He punched and punched. He punched until he stopped moving, until his head dangled like a broken doll and he thought he might be dead. The possibility of him being dead should have scared him but he didn't give a flying fuck whether the bastard was dead; in fact, he damn well hoped he was.