Chapter 2

I didn't see Dax on Friday or even know if he'd come to see Julie. In fact, I didn't see him again, at all. I hadn't seen him for weeks, which had somehow set me on edge, putting me on high alert. I cursed myself every time I glanced at the door, expecting him, and he didn't pass through it.

I'd done this to myself; I'd discarded his advances as though he wasn't worth the time of day. In an attempt to let go of the unreasonable anxiety I felt toward missing a man I didn't know, I decided to go out with my girlfriends. The bar sat on a side road off Main Street running through downtown, and I spent fifteen minutes looking for a place to park. Friday nights were usually pretty busy, but when we closed the bar down, the streets were empty by the time we left. The bartender had cashed out our tabs, and my friends headed out when I called a cab. With them all living in the vicinity of the pub, they hadn't had a need for a designated driver, but I was out in the suburbs and would never chance driving drunk-or even remotely intoxicated. I'd told the cab driver I'd meet him on Main Street since it was easier to get to than the door nestled in the corner of the little hole in the wall we'd shut down. And I knew the fresh air would only aid in my sobriety.

My first mistake had been not going home to change after work before I came out tonight, but I hadn't wanted to be later than I already was. My friends all worked the standard nine-to-five, while I never left my office before seven. I was still in a pencil skirt, blouse, and heels which, while professional, weren't conducive to a night on the town. The second mistake had come when I exited out the side door my friends had left through that emptied into the gravel parking lot of the bar.

The instant the door closed, I attempted to grab the handle to go back in and exit out the front door, but it had locked behind me. The sound of the latch clicking in place radiated like cannon fire in the quiet darkness of the back alley. Finally, I'd consumed enough alcohol to need a cab altogether. I felt every shot and each drink the moment my heels met the tiny-rock surface of the parking lot. The cloud cover blocked even the stars from providing any illumination, making the night sky black as coal. There wasn't a single light that shone in the alley.

The skin on the back of my neck prickled, and the hair stood on end. Someone else was in the parking lot, but I couldn't see them. There were ample places for an attacker to hide with what I assumed were the employees' cars haphazardly situated. My heart raced in my chest, and then I felt it in my throat-a tight knot formed, making swallowing difficult. As adrenaline coursed through my veins, my sole focus became getting into the street where I'd find a light and a sidewalk. My shoulders shuddered with nervous anxiety as I took one step at a time.

I stayed close to the building, dragging my hand along the wall, effectively blocking off one line of attack but leaving me vulnerable on three sides. The crunch of the gravel under heavy shoes created an altogether different sound than my heels. As the pace of my companion's steps picked up, instinctively, mine increased as well. Halfway down the wall, an arm snaked around my waist, and my ankle rolled with my high heel. The hard grip of an unfamiliar embrace caught me off guard, and a hand slipped over my mouth. My scream was nothing more than a muffled whimper as I tried to force sound through the stranger's hand.

The struggle against my assailant was meaningless-my arms flailed in every direction in an attempt to make contact with my attacker, kicking wildly when he threw my body against the wall. My head bounced off the brick with a solid thud, and the smell of blood permeated my nostrils as it trailed down my neck. The harder I fought, the more energy I lost, and the more lightheaded I became. His continued restraint had my wrists bound with fabric behind my back while he held my mouth with his enormous hand. I didn't know how he'd managed to cuff my wrists, but my feeble attempts at escape were fruitless. His fingers ripped at my blouse, tearing it from my chest. Tears seeped from my eyes and rolled like hot lava down my cheeks, burning the flesh as they moved. I refused to let him win. I would fight with everything I had before I allowed him to take what he was after.

I'd rather be dead than violated.

Pleading with him, I begged, "Please-please, let me go."

He ignored my muffled cries and stripped my bra from my chest, exposing me in the shroud of darkness surrounding us.

"Please stop. Please." My stifled prayers fell on deaf ears.

He hadn't uttered a word, only continued to maul my body with his dirty talons.

Trying to gather my wits, I sought any random bit of information I could draw on, but in the heat of the moment-the only time it mattered-none of the self-defense classes came to mind, and I was too frantic to pick through the files in my intellectual database. The only thing I could do was give him the illusion of defeat, making him believe I'd conceded and welcomed his advance in favor of fighting any longer. He pressed his body against mine, fumbling with his pants. In his distraction, I attempted to knee him in the crotch, but his thigh blocked it. He held me closer to the wall, eliminating any freedom I previously had to move, other than my neck and head.

Steeling my resolve, I sighed deeply into the palm of his hand-a silent admission of defeat. I quit struggling and surrendered. The brick scraped at my now bare skin, taking it off layer by layer like sandpaper on wood. His grip on my mouth relaxed just slightly while pressing his weight against me to prevent my escape, and he used his free hand to pull my skirt past my hips before letting it fall to the ground in discarded ruin. Standing in nothing but my thong, the wind caressed my skin in a cruel reminder that I was alone and bare. Exhausted, I leaned into his shoulder, resting my forehead against his collarbone, and his hands took it as an open invitation to grope my body, responding with their own brutal RSVP.

My breath was heavy as I panted in fear, which he confused for arousal, and the stranger allowed me to nuzzle into his neck in an intimate fashion. With my face turned to him, the stench that covered his skin assaulted my senses. An odd, musky smell of mold permeated my nostrils in the most nauseating way. It was a scent I'd never forget if I made it out of this alive. My will to survive forced my lips to the vein throbbing in his neck. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to control my gag reflex as I pecked his sweaty skin lightly. I then opened my mouth where my tongue met the sourest taste it had ever encountered.

And I went for it.

Wide open, fangs exposed to the vein that pumped life through his worthless being, my jaw closed with the intent of continuing until my teeth came back together with a chunk of his flesh.

I had no idea how much meat I'd managed to rip from his neck before he screamed like he was on fire. In anger, he slammed my head into the wall, then his fist into my face. The assailant repeated the beating over and over as if it were a mantra he was trying to instill in me-a lesson I was forced to learn. With each annihilating blow, I lost a little more of my hold on consciousness. His hands were all over me-every scrape of his nails destroying another piece of my identity. The tear of the only fabric still covering my body ripped through my ears like a wail; something invaded my sex, and then darkness fell.

I struggled to escape the yelling, and the sirens, and the arms surrounding me. Unable to get away, I faded in and out but was never coherent enough to make sense of anything in the peripherals of my consciousness. Light tickled my eyes as my lids fluttered, but strapped to what I presumed was a gurney in the back of an ambulance, I was left with little to go on. My head had been immobilized, and my eyes were swelling shut faster than I could blink. A strong hand gripped my fingers, but the face attached was as mysterious as the reason for my assault.

The more I tried to move away, the tighter the grip became. Tattoos covered the arm attached to the hand holding mine, but there was no voice, no body, and no face. Utterly alone-even though there were at least three other people in the ambulance-fear embraced me, and I couldn't hold on to consciousness as I welcomed the Grim Reaper.