(This blog was originally removed from popmundo by Alternate She, so the exact date is unknown) The bass thudding within her chest was more than annoying. Bella practically rolled her eyes as this stranger pressed against her, barely dancing in rhythm with the music. When she could no longer take it, she shoved him aside and retreated to the bar. Tonight, the dancing did the opposite of uplifting her. It dropped her mood to an all-time low.
She monotonously ordered a series of drinks and tapped her fingers against the bar counter in time with the music, but still, she couldn’t stand it. Better at the club than at home though. At home, she was left alone with her thoughts, and that did her no good. Guilt wrapped its vice grip around her heart, and she wasn’t in the mood to face it today. She just wanted to escape it. Her head buzzed after too many drinks and the bartended inquired of her means of travel back home. Once she assured him that she wasn’t driving, he let her go. Bella held her head high and walked right out of the club. Her legs felt as though they weren’t hers, but she still managed to make them work. At last, she was heading home. The gentle breeze that blew through her hair, cooled the glaze of sweat on her skin. Just as she wrapped her arms around herself, she heard a voice. “Back here so soon?” he inquired. Bella glanced over her shoulder. “Oh for crying out loud,” she mumbled as she recognised the man’s handsome features. “If it isn’t Mr. Desperate. Came for another lesson?” she inquired with a soft snort. It was only a couple of weeks past that he’d tried to make his move on her… by taking her phone and insisting on a kiss. Bella rolled her eyes again. “Give up,” she said, walking away once again. This time, however, she didn’t have the upper hand. And before she knew it, she was grabbed from behind and flung up against the wall. The impact of the cold brick against her forehead smarted like hell. She turned, reflexively to defend herself, but her vision swam before her eyes. She swung at one of the bodies in front of her, but her fist met open air. Before she could swing in the opposite direction, the man’s large hand closed around her throat. She tried to pry his hands away but, somehow her body wouldn’t cooperate. She was frustrated with herself. She knew how to defend herself in these instances. She’d been trained! But tonight, with all the alcohol seeping through her bloodstream like venom, coupled with the searing headache, she couldn’t fight back. The dizziness quickly intensified and Bella realised she was losing air. There was no one around. Where was everyone?? She tried to scream, but it only emitted as a mere whimper. “All I asked for was a kiss,” the guy say. “Was that so much to ask for?” Even while he spoke, Bella could feel his other hand trying to tug her pants down. She resisted, bringing up her knee so that he hunkered over in pain. But it only lasted a moment, and her vision was to blurry to make sense of her surroundings. The next thing she knew, her cheek was pressed up against the wall again, the rugged surface scraping her skin as the man forced himself on her. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even fight. Instead, she gritted her teeth against the pain of violation and humiliation, her body numb to the physical happenings. But before he could finish, she’d mustered up enough strength and coordination to push him away. She turned and punched him square in the nose. When he reeled back in surprise, clutching his face, she pulled up her pants and kicked at him, aiming low. His cry of pain assured her that he aim had connected with the right body part. And when he sank down to his knees, he didn’t ease up her attack. She punched and kicked until the man lay motionless, his face a bloody mess. Bella didn’t take the time to find out if he was alive or dead. She just began to run. She wanted to pull out her phone and call someone. Anyone. But her body seemed to be losing control, step by step. She’d barely made it to the metro station before she stumbled and went crashing down on the pavement. She fought unconsciousness, fumbling in her pocket to find her phone. He fingers numbly dialed the last number she’d called: Adam’s. But just as he answered, the only word she could get out was, “Help,” then the world shut off.
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December 2017
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