Prologue
AYOLA
The sky was a bruised, sickly gray, heavy with the promise of rain it couldn't quite deliver. The air tasted thick, like dust and regret. I gripped the frayed strap of my bag, pushing my feet faster down the cracked sidewalk. The music in my single earbud was just noise, a flimsy shield against the growing dread.
I didn't slow down when I saw them, five shadows clustered by the derelict corner shop. Their laughter was a harsh, scraping sound that raised the hair on my arms.
One detached himself, stepping into my path. He smelled of stale smoke and cheap cologne.
"Hey, beautiful." His voice was a greasy drawl.
I didn't stop or flinch. I glared at him, adrenaline already sizzling in my veins, and tried to sidestep.
"Move," I spat, the word thin but sharp.
His smile vanished. "You got a mouth on you, don't you?"
Before the words were out, his hand shot out, clamping around my wrist. The touch was hot and crushing. Instinct took over. I didn't scream, I fought.
I dropped my weight, pivoting hard, and swung my heavy messenger bag backhanded. The buckle caught the side of his head with a meaty sound. He staggered back with a surprised grunt.
"Little bitch!"
The momentary pause was my only chance. I bolted, but the others were faster. Two massive forms converged, tackling me low. The impact sent a sickening jolt up my spine as I hit the ground, concrete scraping my cheek like sandpaper.
A heavy knee slammed onto my chest. The air rushed out of my lungs in a ragged gasp. I thrashed, bucking my hips, trying to roll free, but hands like iron vices grabbed my ankles and wrists.
I twisted my head, sinking my teeth into the arm that pinned my shoulder.
"*AARGH!*" The man roared, tearing his arm away. "She bit me! The little whore bit me!"
I spat the metallic taste of blood onto the pavement. My victory was momentary. Another hand immediately clamped over my mouth, smelling of sweat and dirt. I tried to bite down, but he held firm, his fingers digging into my cheeks.
"Stop fighting, Ayola. You're only making this worse," a voice hissed near my ear—the one whose face I'd scratched, Kael.
I fought harder, kicking out, trying to dislodge the weight on my chest. I heard the sickening of a belt buckle being undone. My eyes widened in panic, tearing up as I struggled against the hand mashing my face.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!" I tried to scream, but the sound was muffled, choked.
The heavy man on my chest laughed, a sound that shook my ribs.
"Look at the fire in her, boys. She's struggling so hard. We like that, don't we?"
My jeans were ripped open. The cold air hit my skin, followed immediately by the heat of a hand sliding roughly up my thigh, tearing through the thin fabric of my tights.
I thrashed violently, a desperate, animalistic struggle, but they had me anchored. The ground was cold, wet, and sharp against my back. I felt a stinging tear as my tights were yanked down to my knees, binding my legs together in a cruel knot of fabric.
One of them leaned close, his breath hot and fetid.
"Shhh. Just relax. You're soaked, Ayola. All this fight, and you're still ready for us."
His words twisted the violation into something predatory and sick. My mind screamed *NO*, but my body was pinned, helpless, exposed.
He pulled his fingers away, and I heard the rustle of his own clothes. The hand on my mouth shifted, replacing the rough gag with a heavy palm over my eyes, plunging me into blackness.
I tried to arch my back, to twist away, to use the last ounce of my strength, but they were too many, too heavy.
I felt the blunt, heavy nudge.
"*Mmmph…*" A choked whimper escaped me.
Then, one long, slow, agonizing push. He sank into me, stretching me, splitting me open.
The scream was ripped from my throat, a raw, piercing sound that tore past the man's hand and echoed off the brick wall. "*AAAAAAGH!*"
He buried himself deep, pausing only to grunt. "Fuck, Ayola! You're tight! Taking me so well!"
Each thrust was a jarring, painful blow. I fought until the last possible second, thrashing, trying to bite the hand over my eyes, until finally, the hot, sudden pulse of his release filled me, and the fight drained out, leaving only a hollow, trembling shock.
He slumped over me, breathing hard. The hands that held me down loosened, now merely resting.
Slowly, he pulled out, leaving a cold, sticky void. The hand left my eyes. I blinked up at the gray sky, seeing nothing but the shapes of the other men looming over me.
One spat beside my head. He zipped up his fly with a casual.
"That'll teach her to scratch," he muttered.
He adjusted his shirt, his eyes cold and satisfied. "Look at you. Beautifully spent. That was just the beginning."
They didn't linger long. They walked off, their heavy boots scuffing the pavement, leaving me fragmented on the cold ground.
I lay there, the fight completely gone, replaced by a seismic, shaking emptiness. My body was a ruin of aches and stings. My ribs screamed with every shallow breath.
It took forever to move. When I finally dragged myself up, my clothes snagged and torn, the world swam. I limped home, dragging my useless leg, the cold, sticky evidence of their violation seeping into my scraped skin.
At the front door, the normal world was still running. Inside, Yolanda was cackling at the television.
I dropped my bag and stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door with a trembling hand. I turned the shower to scalding, desperate to burn away the filth.
I stripped off the ruined clothes, throwing them into a wet heap. Stepping under the spray, the hot water hit the raw scrapes on my back and the bite marks on my shoulder. I didn't care.
I sank to the floor of the tub, the heat pouring over me, useless against the internal cold. The sobs started deep in my chest, huge, ugly, hiccuping sounds that shook my entire frame. I cried until my throat was raw and my voice was a shredded whisper.
The heat ran out. The water turned icy, but I stayed there, hugging my knees.
"Ayo?" Yolanda's voice was small, tentative.
I pressed my face against my knees, clamping my jaw shut. I couldn't speak. If I spoke, the broken pieces would scatter forever.
I stayed silent, letting the cold water wash over me, knowing she was waiting, knowing that even though I had fought, everything had still been irrevocably lost.
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