Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Jenny - Day 986

“Just the two for now?” the Soldier asked. “You sure?”

Griffin nodded. “Take that part of the deal for now, and we’ll be in touch.”

“Your buddy doesn’t seem excited about us being here.”

“Don’t worry about him. Give me a few days, and we’ll have an answer. Tell Haverty I won’t leave him waiting too long.”

The Soldier and Guard wandered out, leaving only Griffin and Jenny in the room.

“Oh, Jenny. They’ll never have you.” Griffin ambled toward the door, locking it to prevent her escape. “I have another deal involving you. It might not be as nice of a life as you’ve had here, but at least it’s living. Can’t say the same for Matt and Grant.”

“How can you do this?! You’re crazy if you think I’m doing anything you say!” Jenny grasped for the missing knife, wishing she hadn’t wasted it on such a feeble strike against the Soldier. It was now with Griffin that she truly needed it. She gritted her teeth, cursing herself for acting so soon. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice began to break.

“Don’t look so upset. You’ll finally find your place in the world.” He approached her, cornering her in the small room. “I’ll need a parting gift before you go. Something… to remember you by.” He began to unbutton her coat.

“Get off!” She forced his hand away. “No!”

“Nuh uh uh.” He wagged his finger at her then pointed to the revolver stuffed in the front pocket of his coat. “Don’t fight it, Jenny. You liked it the last time.”

His hands wouldn’t leave her. She had no choice but to fight. Not again. Never again. “Get off!” she screamed, clawing, striking him everywhere she could, but it wasn’t enough. Her coat lay in a heap. One of her shirtsleeves hung loose. Her collar stretched, ripped. Griffin grabbed hold of her shirt again and pulled, but Jenny slipped it and rushed for the door, stumbling through hurried steps. “Help!” But her pleas went unheeded. The exit seemed a mile away.

With little effort, Griffin took back control, jerking her upright by the hair, twisting it within his grip. “Now, Jenny,” he said through clenched teeth, “you aren’t playing very nice.”

“Let go!” She stomped the inside of his knee causing him to buckle only slightly.

“That’s all you got?” He swung her sideways by the hair—her body slamming into his desk with a bang . The edge caught her between the ribs, forcing a gasp for air.

“Stop! Enough!” She put her hands out in front of her. “Just stop! Please!”

He leered at Jenny, drifting toward her. “No…”—He smacked his lips—“I don’t think that would be very fun. I kinda like fighting for it. Makes it exciting.” A stiff slap sent her cowering to the floor. The harsh sting left her little choice but to raise her arm in defense, anticipating another. “Get mad!” He snatched her wrist and yanked her from the floor, screaming at her from merely an inch away, “Hate me! Come on, Jenny! Let that hate out!”

“Fuck you!” She kicked for his groin, but whiffed, instead striking his inner thigh. Futile.

“You’re pathetic…” Griffin shoved her to the ground and went to straddle her. Jenny countered with a flurry of kicks, keeping him at a distance. “That’s more like it!” Taking hold of her leg, he peeled off one boot then the other, pitching them into the corner. Her pants—the only thing preventing him now. His hands clawed at them. A sharp tug, but they wouldn’t budge. “Damn it!” He grabbed hold of her waist, slamming her body halfway onto the desk, face down and away.

Her eyes darted frantically across the desktop, searching from something, anything she could use to protect herself. Scissors! She stretched toward them, her fingertips pecking at the plastic handle. Almost! Raising onto her tiptoes… But not soon enough. Griffin lunged into the desk. A loud scrape across the floor and everything toppled from the desktop. Everything clattered to the floor. Shit…

“Let it go, Jenny.” He breathed into her ear. Her body shuddered, cringed, collapsed in on itself. “It’s okay to let some tears go. I didn’t mind it the first time.”

Don’t you cry, Jenny. If she couldn’t prevent Griffin from having his way, she’d at least steal some of his power. Take some of that satisfaction from him. His fingers crawled toward her waistline. The belt buckle loosened. She felt the tightness of her pants give way. The cold air began to envelop her entire body. Legs shaking, she squeezed her thighs together to thwart his effort. One of his hands pressed against the small of her back—his other struggled with his zipper. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying everything to leave this place, to find somewhere to hide in her mind.

Then, from behind them, a deep growl filled the room.

“Fass!” Danny shouted.

Sherman stormed into the room and latched onto Griffin’s thigh, violently jerking it back and forth, pulling him away from Jenny. Without hesitating, she stole the opportunity, scurrying off into the corner. Not the greatest position, but she couldn’t bring herself to slink past Sherman. Distracting him from Griffin was the last thing she wanted.

“Someone call him off!” he begged.

The thought never crossed her mind. Instead, a vengeful pleasure swelled inside her—to see him finally getting what he deserved—to see him struggling, pushing, prying at Sherman’s muzzle like she had done to him. Now, their fates had reversed. He was the prey, and she reveled in it—the horror descending upon him, his pain. All her time at the Depot she had been suffocating, but now, she could breathe.

Sherman’s teeth continued to gnash at the thigh, unrelenting, spurting blood through Griffin’s tattered pant leg. “Help!” Off-balance, he tried to escape, but crumpled to the floor. “Come on, Danny!” The pain in his voice rang out louder than his words. Terror in every outburst that followed.

Danny’s face showed no pity, no mercy. “Fass!”

With the command, Sherman released for only an instant then clamped down again, harder, into his calf. Never had Jenny seen something so violent. She expected Danny to call it off at some point, but he remained stoic, unflinching. Not moved by Griffin’s need for this to stop. Not moved by his pleas for help. It seemed Danny had made up his mind. Griffin was guilty, and this was the sentence.

Crack!

The gunshot startled the room, and Sherman released his bite.

“Hier!” Danny called to him.

Griffin raised the revolver from his coat pocket and toward the fleeing canine. Crack! Crack! Crack!

In a panic, Jenny dove behind the desk to avoid the sporadic gunfire, landing in the mess that had toppled over earlier. The scissors! She snatched them from the floor. I have to end this.

Crack! Crack! Click. Click.

The clicks echoed a million times louder than the shots in Jenny’s head. He’s dry!

“Shit…” Griffin cursed his misses and tried to stand, but his wounded leg was unable to bear his weight. Again, he fell to the floor, his back crashing against the desk. His head lolled from side to side, woozy from the loss of blood. “That mother…” he muttered, his voice weak, barely able to part his lips.

Jenny peered over the desk, rubbing her thumb along the scissor’s blade. Watching him, she knew he wouldn’t make it. Too much blood. Now, her decision was whether or not to walk away knowing he died or to play a part in it. It seemed simple enough with all he had done to her. All the nightmares he had given her. The constant angst that stalked her through the Depot. Can I really be the one who does it? Griffin’s head fell into the nook of his shoulder. No way. You’re not leaving until I get my last word. You’re not taking that away. Not after what you did to me!