A/N Warning violence and rape

Ch 30.

The party is totally raucous by the time I arrive after work. My mother still has my keys, so I had to walk the 20 minutes in the cool night air. I am falling apart at the seams and I can only hope to forget at the party tonight. The keg shines brightly across the room and I am drawn towards it like a moth to a flame. I want to be numb, dulled, and my mind to be quiet, and multiple trips to the keg seems like the best way to do it since I am out of weed. After an hour or two, time is slipping away and everything wrong in my life is not forgotten, but not waving in front of me either.

Music pounds at my head, knocking me sideways when I try to stand. I need the bathroom and then some more to drink, colours and people spin in front of me making it hard for me to grope my way across the room. A hand slips around my waist, warm breath in my ear. "Need a hand, Sweetheart?" I recognize the voice and try to turn to face the person holding me.

"I need the bathroom, that's what I need." I'm pretty sure that's what I said.

"Let me help you, Darling," this time I am able to place the voice and realize it's Chad, one of the guys Ian used to party with all the time. This is an Ian type of party, beer flowing, pipes lit, but apparently he's trying the straight and narrow for awhile. I'm not sure if it was prompted by Chris' applications to a bunch of universities all away from home, whereas he has no prospects, or if he just got tired of being so angry all the time. That's okay, I'm angry enough for all of us. Either way, it's not like either of them are talking to me right now, and Chad is.

"Thanks, Chad," I giggle as his scruffy goatee tickles my neck.

He leads me to the bathroom and waits outside for me while I relive the fulness of my bladder. When I come back out, he's all over me again. It's kind of flattering that Chad's interested, when most guys aren't. I'm sure its still because of the Reed Boy's threats, and Owen's beating, but it's nice to get some attention. There were random guys in the summer, but none of them were from around here, none of them really knew me. Besides, I know that Ian and Chris won't bother to protect me now. Chad and I stumble back across the room where we stake a claim on a couch. He gets me another drink, then the two of us get much better acquainted. His tongue is jammed down my throat and it's not all bad. It's not a sweep me off my feet kind of moment, but I'm not sure I'm even that kind of girl. People jostle against us, causing the kiss to break off, and Chad gives me what I think is meant to be a sultry look, his lidded eyes and pouting lips fill my vision. I try not to laugh because I don't want to wound his pride, but it really is funny. Chad ignores my reaction, or at least chalks it up to the amount of beer I've consumed, but suddenly I know this isn't for me.

"Shit, I have to go home. I'm just totally done," I try to stand.

"No problem, Grace, do you need a ride?"

I try to remember where my car is, and realize it's at home. Crap. Maybe I should call someone for a ride? Who would come? "Yeah, I do. Can you take me?"

"Us alone in a car? I like those odds," Chad makes some sort of innuendo, but it doesn't fully register.

"Let's go then, Chad." I stand uneasily, and his arm steadies me, helping me outside. I am cold but can't remember if I brought a coat, and I get goosebumps up and down my arms.

"Looks like you're excited," Chad says, leering at my breasts.

"Just cold, and tired," I try to rebuff him. Maybe I should just walk home? I turn towards the sidewalk.

"Where are you heading? Grace, the car's right here," he points to his beat up sedan and opens the passenger side door for me. "Come on, let me take you where you need to go."

He's causing a vibe of uneasiness to run through me, but I tamp it down and climb into the empty seat, buckling myself in before I fall out. Chad gives me a sly grin as he shuts the door behind me. I don't remember too much of the drive, I don't remember giving him directions to my house or him pulling in my driveway. I think I fell asleep on the way home. What I do remember is waking up with his hand up my top and tongue in my mouth.

"Get off," I try pushing him away, my eyes open wide, sobering up. I can see the moon through the sunroof and I'm disoriented. It takes me a second to realize that he's even reclined my seat.

"Come on, Grace, you know you want it. You've been such a little cock tease all these years." Chad tells me, not relinquishing his grip on my breast, instead squeezing harder.

"Oww, Chad, that hurts," I try pounding on his back and fighting him, but he has shifted to being almost on top of me, and I can't get away. His free hand has moved to the waistband of my jeans, and he's working at the button trying to get them open. He forces his knee between my legs, and redoubles his efforts on my pants.

"You need it, Babe, you've been begging for it all this time. Why leave you for Ian, when he's too fucked to do anything? Let a real man take care of you," Chad's voice is like poison, his actions nauseating, his hard penis pressing against my leg through his pants, making me want to vomit. How can he be excited at the prospect of forcing me? Whatever I want, I don't want it like this, or with him. Fear seizes me as I can feel my button burst open and my zipper being yanked down.

"GET OFF ME!" I pummel his back with my aching fists and try kicking with my legs, body thrashing beneath him. My heart is pounding in my chest, threatening to stop altogether as the pain of what's about to happen overtakes me. "NO, CHAD, NO." I yell again and again, but to no avail. His hand is in my pants now and jamming into my underwear, fingers forcing their way inside me. His knees force my legs apart and he is struggling against the tight fabric of my pants to reach his goal. His other hand lets go of my bruised breast and moves towards opening his own pants, anger and lust in his eyes. I am sobbing and my breath is ragged, voice hoarse from screaming, flight draining from me. This is the black abyss, and I am teetering on the edge, very nearly falling.

The interior light of the car flashes on and the cold air hits me and a fist hits Chad squarely in the jaw and I am being dragged from the car and I am not able to stand, sit, think, function. I gag and gag and gag again and filth spews from me, from my stomach and pores and mind and body and soul and very pit of me, curling on the grass in a ball while I hear the grunts and cracks of a fight, the pounding of fists hitting flesh. There's a squeal and headlights and tires, then nothing but sobs and silence and wind and cold. So cold. I shake and shake and shiver and close my eyes to keep the pain from overwhelming me. The abyss is still there, even though my attacker isn't and I don't want to fall in. I need and need and need, and the pain hurts, I am damaged and disfigured. My body aches and my soul aches and I feel used and dirty and filthy and grimy and squalid. I gag again, choking and drooling and snot hanging from me. I collapse into myself again.

Gently, so slightly, my face is wiped with warm cloth and I am lifted from the grass and carried in strong arms. I am shielded from the light and brought in and upstairs and laid softly down. A warm blanket is placed on top of my disheveled clothes, shivering frame, and yet I still shake. I can't stop shaking. I curl into a tight ball, curl into myself, curl away from everything and everyone. I can't make myself small enough, disappear enough. And I cry and cry and cry. I cry tears of loss and tears of pain and tears of desperation. It is too hard to think and I want to die. A warm body curls against me from behind and a warm arm holds me close and a soft hand runs fingers through my matted filthy hair, curls full of leaves and debris from the grass.

"You're safe now, Gracie, it's okay. He can't hurt you," soft, gentle, soothing words barely whispered strain to reach me, lost. I am still shaking and crying, but less, and I am slipping away, exhausted. I roll towards the person holding me, burying my face into his sweater, clinging to him, trying to steady myself. Words, so many words winding their way into my sleep, I hear them and feel them and see them, but I don't know what is real. "I love you, you're so strong," and "I'll always save you," vibrate through my mind, but I have no idea if they're really there.

I wake early to a room as familiar as my own, although I haven't been in here in years. Three smiling faces greet me from a picture frame across the room, and Ian's strong arms are still wrapped around me, keeping me safe. There's cotton in my mouth and I feel pain everywhere. My pants are still undone and the reality of last night crashes around me again. I gag and choke, and Ian reaches for the garbage bin just in time as I wretch, but there's nothing left in me. My eyes are too dry for tears and I am numb and broken.

"Gracie, you're safe. He can't hurt you." Ian rubs my back, fingers tracing soothing patterns through my shirt, giving me strength.

"I need to go...Can you take me?" my mind is racing, but I know he can't get away with this, can't hurt anyone else.

"I'll take you where ever you need to go, just ask."

"I need to go to the hospital, they'll need proof."

"I can take you right now, Grace, and I'll be there the whole time."

"Thank you, Ian."

Ian gets me a sweatshirt that I can wear overtop of my torn and stained shirt because I don't want to change just in case, and brings a spare pair of pants. I am sore and bruised and shaken but I know I need to do this now before I change my mind.

"Mom, I'm taking the car, okay?" Ian calls as we get to the front door.

"Sure Ian, everything alright?" Andrea rounds the corner and her face falls when she sees me. "Grace, oh my, are you okay?"

"Not really, but I will be," my voice catches in my throat as I try to keep from breaking down, "Ian's just helping me out."

"Whatever you need, Honey, and Ian, you take care of her, okay?"

"Don't worry, Mom, I won't let her out of my sight, I promise," he wraps his arm over my shoulder and I lean into him as we walk out to the car.