Broken Seed

by R J Machado De Quevedo

  “Recognize your work do ya?” Dwayne said antagonistically as he stroked the scar once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get a few just like it in a few tender places.”

  “No! Stay away from me!” I scampered backward, trying to distance myself from him. Dwayne stood still, looking down at me malevolently and licked his lips as he drank in my fear.

  “Come back here, girl. Greet your father with a nice, big hug.” Dwayne held his arms out to me, a contemptuous smile shifting his hardened face into a mocking mask simmering with hatred.

  “No! Get out!” I bellowed. I hurried to my feet and took off running for the kitchen to try and get to the phone. I heard him behind me, his feet falling heavily and driven with purpose as he ran after me.

  “Go away!” I screamed inarticulately as I skittered into the kitchen and snatched the phone.

  “Give me that, you stupid bitch!” Dwayne roared as he crashed into me, knocking me into the fridge. It thumped and rocked from the impact and I heard our Veggie Tails magnets scatter. The phone nearly popped out of my hands, and I fumbled for it, trying to hit the buttons to dial 9-1-1. He grabbed my wrists with one hand and around my waist with the other. His strength was terrorizing. His grip upon my much smaller wrists was crushing.

  “Ah!” I shrieked, the pain too familiar. A lifetime wouldn’t have been long enough to forget pain like this.

  “You can’t be here! I have a no contact order. Get out!” I shouted as we grappled. I knew he wouldn’t give a damn about the NCO, but I had to try anything I could.

  I kicked at him, but he was standing too close, nearly on top of me, his six-foot-two frame an intimidating presence. My legs were unable to inflict any damage when I managed to strike him. In retaliation, his knee came up swiftly and connected solidly with my ribs, and I bellowed as I heard a crack and sharp pains engulfed my side.

  Dwayne laughed and his sickening breath huffed into my face as we wrestled, each one seeking an advantage. He slammed me onto the counter, his power and strength undefeatable with my own. He forced my hands to the counter, and a fist came down on them; the phone was knocked out from my desperately clinging fingers. I nearly sobbed as he stomped on it, the plastic phone cracking into pieces under his foot.

  I tried to escape him, to squeeze past him, but he shoved me back into the counter with a mighty explosion of power. A wicked grin was dancing across his lips as he stood planted, his feet apart, and his hands out as if to block me.

  “Oh, yes. What a fighter you’ve become.” His voice had grown thick with desire and his breathing heavy. I recognized the sound and sight of the masochistic excitement building in him, and I trembled, unable to stop myself from showing him the fear he so urgently craved. Fighting back only amplified his excitement, like adding fuel to a blazing fire, flaring it up in an all-consuming whoosh. But I didn’t have a choice. If I was going to survive this, I’d have to fight harder! An image of my sister, Vivian, being viciously raped flooded into my mind and then the image of her lying in a pool of blood in our old kitchen, her neck nearly broken. I wouldn’t be his next victim! I wouldn’t let him rape me, too!

  Oh, God help me!

  “I’m gonna enjoy every tender bit of you, girl. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” Dwayne nearly crooned.

  I cried out as he came at me, my hands going up to try and strike him. He blocked my hands and backhanded me across the face before I could recover my attack. My lip exploded, and blood splattered across the kitchen like droplets of rain.

  He shoved himself against me, his body hard and eager, and he bit down on my neck. The smell of his oily brownish-blond hair, pungent body odor, and thick cigarette smoke, sparked a new level of fear, as the memory of his sickening scent rattled through me.

  “Help!” I screamed with every ounce of strength I had left, and he bore down on my neck. I felt the hot trickle of blood as his teeth sunk into my flesh. I cried out in pain and scratched at his face, my short nails, nearly useless.

  “Stop that!” Dwayne roared and he twisted me around with a vicious yank, his arm going around my neck from behind to strangle me, the other around my waist, crushing my diaphragm and inhibiting my breaths. He dragged me across the kitchen toward the living room, my body pinned to his.

  “No!” I screamed, and I elbowed him as hard as I could in the ribs. I heard Dwayne moan as my elbow found him and he tossed me aside, slamming me into the wall.

  Smack!

  My head whipped to the side as Dwayne’s fist connected with my face, and I saw white stars flash across my vision like a burst of fireworks. Fire ignited across my cheekbone. I think he might have fractured it.

  Thwack!

  Dwayne grabbed my hair and slammed my head back into the wall. I felt my skull crash through the thick sheetrock and onto the beam beneath, my head felt like it was being ripped off my neck as he did it again. I felt dazed and my breathing hindered as he pressed himself into me, his body solid and impenetrable.

  “When are you going to learn to respect your father, Melo?” He snarled in my face and punched me in the gut. What little air I had left in my lungs was knocked out of me. My knees gave out, and I started to collapse. Dwayne caught me and tugged me to him, holding me by his strength alone. My head lolled back, and I saw his dark, evil eyes laughing at me.

  The sight of his enjoyment at my pain sent a spark of anger through me, and I felt my will to not fear him solidify. I glared up at him and spit in his face.

  “Go to hell,” I managed to say, my strength to speak nearly gone.

  “Useless bitch!” Dwayne snarled.

  Smack!

  My head snapped back again as he hit me with all his might and he dropped me to collapse onto the floor. I lay in a heap, unable to summon any strength in my shocked and battered body to move or run.

  Dwayne wiped my spit and blood off his face with a thick callused hand and loomed over me, his face full of such savage rage and hatred that I felt as though I was looking into the face of Satan himself.

  “Hell is where you’re gonna wish you were when I’m done with you, Melo,” Dwayne said, almost quietly as he crouched down next to me, his dark gray-blue eyes gleaming with sadistic expectation. He touched my face, his fingers lightly caressing my skin. I felt revulsion twist in my stomach and threaten to make me sick.

  “Jesus.” The one-word prayer was all I could say. I lay dazed, feeling disconnected, my head swirling as if I was tumbling down into my own nightmares ensnared in a dream like trance. My head was throbbing, and my vision was blurring with shades of black closing in around the edges.

  God, where are you? Help me! Please!

  Dwayne stroked my face and let his hand slowly trail down my neck to where it touched the blood still seeping out from the bite that he’d given me. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a quivering breath. He pushed his fingers into the wound, and I cried out, the pain shooting through me like the cutting of a blade. He smiled at me as he licked my blood off of his fingers, making a show of his enjoyment as if he was sampling a delicious delicacy.

  “You. Taste. Good.” Dwayne said suggestively, his voice growing hoarse once more.

  His eyes trailed over my body hungrily, and I could do nothing to stop him as he reached under my shirt and found my breast with his rough, greedy hand. I groaned a pathetic sound of dismay as I fought not to lose consciousness.

  This can’t be happening to me. No, please. God, no! Not like this!

  “Still haven’t grown a decent set. Tsk-tsk,” he said, looking truly disappointed. “Just like your squealing sow of a sister. And just like her, you think you’re too good for me,” Dwayne reached down and grabbed a handful of his own crotch and jerked it vulgarly. “Well, I’ll see if you’re any good and let you know when I’m done.”

  Dwayne positioned himself over me, his knees on either side of my thighs as he started fumbling at my pants, yanking at them aggressively, trying to get them down over my hips.

  “Get off
her!” I heard a furious masculine voice roar.

  Two strong, tan hands reached into my line of sight and grabbed Dwayne around the neck, pulling him backwards in one massive heave. I heard a violent scuffle, outbursts of fury and curses as loud thumps and crashes echoed throughout the house. The men’s voices twisted into a jumble of shouts and vibrations as the sounds of an intense battle shook the walls and vibrated through the floor where I lay like a broken china doll.

  “Melo!” I heard my father scream out in a passionate rage, and I began to convulse, my body shaking violently as terror tried to ensnare me once more.

  My awareness became foggy. I fought against my own weakness to remain awake, frantic to know if my unforeseen hero would end up running away and abandon me or be killed by my father.

  I clung to consciousness with frantic desperation, as dark shadows twisted into flickering images and surrounded me. I heard them laughing, a wild, crazed sound, and I felt their presence like a suffocating mass pressing upon me. Evil so dire that my terror intensified and I seized, unable to breathe. I saw the black, razor clawed hand of the wicked darkness, reach out to stroke my face, much like my father had moments before.

  “Jesus,” I gasped, my voice lost within my failing strength.

  The dark shadows and hand of darkness were suddenly driven back by a flash of blinding light, and white flames encompassed about me, chasing out the darkness. I sucked in a quivering breath, unsure if I was dreaming or tethered between realities. Then I felt myself slip into unconsciousness.

  After what must have only been a few moments, I was startled awake by the front door crashing open and a second later, the sound of metal smashing and scraping. Then tires peeling out down the street accompanied by loud shouts that my brain was unable to distinguish. I lay unable to move, struggling not to let go of the present and blackout again. A moment later, I heard hurried footsteps coming back toward me, growing louder.

  Oh no, not again. Please, no! I thought franticly, thinking that surely my father had chased off whoever it had been who had tried to help me.

  I felt powerful hands lift me up and what little adrenaline my body could expel snapped me awake just enough to cry out, “No!” The room spun around me into hazy shapes and blotches of color.

  “Melanie! Melanie, it’s me!”

  “No! Don’t touch me!” I struggled to whisper, my power completely gone.

  “Melanie, it’s over. It’s over!” I felt my body being shifted and set gently down on the couch, and the room stopped spinning. David’s face came into view. His concern for me was so raw that I let out a broken sob. I started to shake, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that were shifting from terror, to relief, and now safety.

  “I’m just going to fix your jeans,” David said in a rushed whisper. I felt my torn jeans being gently pulled back over the curve of my hips. I had a fleeting thought what else David had seen when he’d come in?

  Had my underwear been exposed? Had they been yanked down my hips along with my jeans? What had he seen?

  I felt utterly vulnerable and naked—violated. I was still trembling as the jeans shifted back into place with David’s help. I tried to wrap my heavy arms over my breasts, afraid they too had been exposed, but the t-shirt was only pushed up to my mid-stomach.

  David kept his eyes carefully locked onto mine as he helped me recover what was left of my modesty, never glancing downward to take advantage of what had been exposed.

  “I’m all done,” David said softly, his face full of sympathy and concern.

  Then David darted away, and I heard his rushed footsteps through the kitchen. He returned promptly with the large kitchen towel and gently lifted my head to hold it to the back of my skull.

  “You’re bleeding. Gosh, you’re bleeding,” David moaned.

  I looked up and saw that David’s nose was bleeding, too. He had a gash over his right eye, and his hair was tussled. I tried to reach up to touch his injured face, but my arm would only raise a few inches. Seeing me try to touch him, David tenderly lifted my hand and placed it along his cheek. The knuckles of his hand were gashed and turning a purplish-red and starting to swell. He closed his eyes, and I saw a single tear slide down his cheek.

  “Thank God, I got here in time.” David exhaled in relief. “I could have lost you.” His voice broke, and he kissed the inside of my palm and placed it against his face once more, his eyes closing in a silent prayer of thanks.

  “How?” I whispered.

  “Shh. Don’t. You don’t have to speak.”

  David was kneeling alongside the couch, and he slowly moved in closer to me, leaning down slightly to look into my eyes. Relief and fear for my safety were still lingering within his eyes, showing every bit of depth he cared for me. He wasn’t trying to shield me from his feelings now. Perhaps he no longer could.

  The tenderness and purity of his compassion for me was a striking contrast to the rage and hate of my father. And his kindness melted away the haze of thickening denial that was trying to numb my emotions and shut down my mind. I began to sob uncontrollably. The reality of what I had just lived through sinking in and ripping me to pieces inside.

  David quickly gathered me up into his arms and maneuvered himself to sit on the couch next to me. He held me gently against him, making me feel complete safety in the protective embrace of his arms.

  “Oh, Melanie. He’s gone. He’s gone,” David repeated reassuringly.

  I trembled and clung to him, feeling overcome with gratitude for his presence, David’s hand making gentle circles on my back as I wept.

  “We need to call the police,” David said after a moment of comforting silence.

  I held him tighter, unwilling to let my protector go, my throat constricting as I tried to speak. “Please, please don’t leave me—”

  “Melanie, you’re bleeding. He hurt you pretty bad. You need an ambulance,” David insisted. “Do you have another phone? I think mine is busted.” David carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out a smashed cell phone.

  “Ye—yes. Upstairs in my room,” I stuttered weakly.

  “I’ll go get it. Which room is it?” David asked as he gently dislodged himself from beside me and carefully rested me against the side pillows of the couch.

  “End of the hall, on the left,” I answered mechanically. I think I was going deeper into shock.

  “I’ll be right back.” David bounded off and up the stairs. I soon overheard him talking to someone, my cell phone having been easy to locate on my nightstand. Then a moment later, I heard him jogging quickly down the stairs.

  “Yes, please hurry,” I heard David say as he made his way back to me, the phone pressed to his ear. “We need an ambulance right away—it was an attempted rape. She has a laceration to the back of the head, contusions on her face, arms, and hands. A vicious bite mark on her neck.” David paused, his face serious and his eyes flashed. “Yes, human. It was a human bite.”

  David came and squatted down next to me again, reaching out to touch my hand. “She’s conscious but fading in and out. I think she might have a concussion. Please hurry. Her attacker fled when I interrupted—stopped his assault.” David’s voice squeezed tight. And I saw fury sizzling in his eyes. David took in a big breath, his chest swelling as he drew it in, then paused once more, his eyes closing as if to master himself.

  “I think he came posing as a flower delivery man. The SUV he took off in had the side window busted out, so I think he stole it. He crashed into my motorcycle when he escaped. I couldn’t follow him.” David had regained some control and had started speaking calmly with precision, and I caught a glimpse of the soldier he once was kick in. He was very soldier-in-combat-deal-with-facts-only mode.

  “We fought. The man is extremely strong. His rage barely let him feel any pain that I could tell. My blows couldn’t stop him. Your officers will need to be very careful. I don’t think a Taser will even stun this animal.” David paused, frowning harder than I had ever
seen him. “It was a white Ford Escape. It said Veronica’s Floral Arrangements on the side. The plate number is 1-R-O-S- E-2-U.” David repeated from memory.

  “Oh, and send a female medic and female officer, please. I think she’d be more comfortable,” David instructed, his voice softening with sympathy for what I must be feeling. He paused, listening. “Yes, I’ll be staying here until you arrive or until she asks me to leave.”

  David leaned in toward me and rested his forehead on my hand, seeking comfort himself. I reached over with my other trembling hand and placed it on his head, his hair slipping through my fingers as the weakness in my arm took hold, and my hand slipped away.

  David raised his head and searched my face with concern. “Please hurry. I think shock is setting in. I’ll keep her talking. I’ll keep her from falling asleep.” He hung up the phone. David carefully gathered me up into his arms again and sat down next to me, gently resting me against him and holding the towel to the back of my throbbing head.

  “Melanie? Stay awake. Don’t fall asleep,” David said urgently, the vibrations of his voice sounding deep against my ear where it lay pressed to his chest.

  “Call, Liz. Please…call—”

  “I already did,” David said quietly.

  “You did?” I asked surprised.

  “Yes, before I came down stairs. She was the first number on your speed dial, and I knew she’d want to know,” David said.

  “Thank you,” I whispered in relief and started to blackout.

  I was startled back to awareness as David shook me gently. “No. No you don’t. Stay awake. Talk to me, Melanie. Ask me anything. Just don’t go to sleep,” David said alarmed.

  “Anything?” I asked hazily.

  “Whatever you want.”

  “How-how did you know?”

  “Umm…You might not understand. Most people don’t,” David said, sounding unsure.