Ray Gorham - 77 Days in September

“You don’t, but I’m not a violent guy. I just like women.”

“Why me, Doug. Why not someone else?”

“Why not you? You should have liked me. Your husband’s dead, and you needed a man around. I would have been good to you. Everyone else is either old, nasty, or they have a husband at home. Who else was there?”

Jennifer’s mind raced for a way out. “If I do what you want, then what? What happens tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow I’ll be gone. I’m bailing. My friend’s got a cabin in the mountains, and I’m going Grizzly Adams. People are going to start killing each other soon, even in our precious little community. I’m looking out for myself. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left. Now shut-up! We don’t want to wake your sweet daughter. I hope she’s a deep sleeper.”

Doug stepped back from the bed and took off his shoes. As he slid his pants down, he glared at her. “You’re not getting ready. It’s our honeymoon, Jenn. You should be more excited. I’m sure you’ll have the time of your life.”

Jennifer lay frozen in bed, her eyes locked on Doug. She didn’t see any weapons other than his knife, but it was a hunting knife with a long, threatening blade. If she could get to it, or her gun, she thought, she might win. But if she didn’t, then all of them would lose. She started to slide her sweatpants down her legs.

“Wait!” hissed Doug. “It’s my honeymoon. I’ll take them off.” He stood by the bed, now dressed only in his boxer shorts, and set the knife down on the floor by the foot of the bed. “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned before throwing the covers off of her. He grabbed the waistband of her sweats and slid them slowly down her legs.

Jennifer held her breath and turned her head away as she felt him running his hands across her legs.

“You have nice legs, Jenn,” he said. “Your skin is soft and warm.” He caressed her thighs with his cold, clammy fingers. “Sit up!” he ordered her.

Jennifer sat up, her eyes still closed.

Doug grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt and started to lift it. “Open your eyes and look at me. I want to see the look of love in your eyes.”

Jennifer took a deep breath and forced her eyes open. She turned and looked at Doug, his features more evil now than when the assault began. Jennifer’s expression was cold and hard, her eyes boring into him.

“I guess that’ll do,” he said, continuing to lift her sweatshirt. He pulled it up over her head, revealing a thin white undershirt, then tossed the sweatshirt on top of her sweatpants. “You must get cold at night.” Doug grabbed the neck of her shirt with both hands and, pulling them apart, tore her shirt in half, the violence and noise of his action terrifying her.

Emma stirred in the bed and both Jennifer and Doug froze until she was settled again. “Don’t wake my daughter!” Jennifer begged, panicked. “Please don’t wake her.”

Ignoring her plea, Doug looked at Jennifer, who now sat in the bed in her panties and a sports bra. “You’ve got more layers than an onion, but I’m sure you taste much better,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her shoulder and neck. “See, this isn’t so bad. And you look pretty good for having three kids.” He nuzzled her ear, then threw her arms over his shoulders. “Act like you enjoy this!” he ordered.

Jennifer fought the urge to vomit and squeezed Doug with her arms.

“Say my name, like you want me!”

“Doug,” she choked out. “Oh, Doug.”

He pulled away from her. “You sound like you’re ill,” he said disgustedly and shoved her away.

Caught off guard, Jennifer rocked backward and fell hard onto Emma. She held her breath as she looked at her daughter, praying that Emma wouldn’t wake up and feeling her heart pounding so hard she was sure it would break her ribs. Emma’s head turned towards Jennifer, and her eyes opened a crack. “Mom?” Emma whispered.

“It’s okay, baby,” Jennifer whispered frantically. “Go to sleep! Please, baby girl, go to sleep! Everything’s okay.” Jennifer saw Doug, holding his knife, step around to the foot of the bed. She cupped a hand over Emma’s eyes to shield her view, but not before Emma noticed the movement and pulled her head back to see who was there.

At the sight of Doug with a knife, Emma let out a scream. Jennifer immediately slapped her hand over her daughter’s mouth, cutting off the sound. As Doug moved towards them, Jennifer pulled Emma protectively under her and held her arm up to Doug.

“Baby, close your eyes, just close your eyes,” Jennifer begged her terrified daughter. “Just think of this as a bad dream. Close your eyes and say your prayers. You know how you like to pray. That guy is someone mommy knows, so don’t be afraid.” Emma’s panicked eyes darted around the room. “Do you understand me, sweetie?” Jennifer asked, her hand still clamped over Emma’s mouth. “Can you do that, baby? Can you do it for mom?” Emma nodded, her eyes still open and terrified.

“Okay, good girl. Good girl. I’m going to slide you over to your edge of the bed. Lie on your stomach and don’t look at anything. Close your eyes. Put a pillow over your head and hold it tight against your ears. Try not to listen. You understand?” Emma nodded. “Okay, good. Think songs, or prayers, anything. Just don’t look, and don’t listen. Promise?” Emma nodded again. Jennifer tenderly rolled Emma over to the edge of the bed, pulled the blanket up, and put a pillow over her head.

Doug stepped back around to the side of the bed and they stared at each other, neither one of them saying anything. “Do what you need to do,” Jennifer whispered. “Then go to hell.”

Doug set his knife down on the floor and stepped towards her. His eyes were steely and hard, and Jennifer knew that he was determined to get what he came for. She lay back onto her pillow, closed her eyes, and braced for it. As Doug’s fingers reached inside the waistband of her panties, Jennifer heard a noise from the doorway. Her eyes flew open just as David lunged across the room and leapt onto Doug’s back.

David grabbed a hold of Doug’s neck and head and tried to pull the man away from his mother, twisting with every bit of strength he had. Doug stepped away from the bed, clawing at David’s arms, trying to shake him loose. Doug balled up his fists and swung behind him, landing glancing blows, but David clung tight. Doug maneuvered to the doorway and repeatedly threw his body back against the corner of it, pinning David and knocking the air out of him with each blow. The third strike broke David’s grip and he dropped to the floor. Jennifer dove onto the floor where Doug had placed the knife and grabbed it.

Doug turned back towards the bed. “This isn’t how I planned this,” he snarled. “No one was going to get hurt.”

Jennifer stood against the far wall, clutching Doug’s knife. “Get out! Get out now!”

Doug laughed. “I’m not afraid of you and some twelve year old. Tell him to go back to his room! I just want one thing.” Doug stepped towards Jennifer. She raised the knife, prepared to strike. Doug shook his head. “This is your fault, Jenn. It didn’t have to be this way.” He came towards her quickly, deflected her swing, and then grabbed her wrist and forced the knife from her hands, before roughly pushing her onto the bed.

As he bent to pick up the weapon, David tackled him from behind and knocked Doug headfirst into the wall with enough force that Doug dropped to the ground.

Jennifer scrambled across the bed and pushed Emma onto the floor, then thrust her arm under the mattress searching for her gun.

“Stay away from my mother, you jerk!” David shrieked as he stepped back. His fists were raised in front of him and he rocked nervously from side to side.