Viktor(27)

His hand drifts down my belly, to my skirt … unbuttoning it.

“No,” I scream, but he covers my mouth with his hand.

“I’ll give you what you need. Now, do as you’re told.”

In one go, he rips my skirt down. I try to fight him by kicking and twisting in place, but his tight grip on my wrists stops me from giving it my all. I’m left to fend for myself with half my strength, but I won’t give up. I won’t let him win. I won’t let him have me.

Not this. Anything but this.

“Get off me!” I yell as he zips down his pants behind me.

He slams my face into the car.

“Shut up, you filthy slut.”

The metallic taste of blood poisons my mouth with fury.

Instincts take over, and I kick back at him as hard as I can. His ‘oompf’ tells me I’ve hit him right in the balls. “Motherfucker,” I scream.

I turn around, but with my skirt around my ankles, it’s hard to run. When I look behind me, he leaps forward and grabs my legs. I fall down to the ground face first, screaming as he crawls on top of me. He smashes my face into the ground with the palm of his hand.

“You little cunt, I’m going to rip you a new one.”

Tears well up in my eyes, but I will never stop fighting him, not until I’ve either passed out or I’m dead.

From the corner of my eye, I spot a car racing toward us. I try to scream, but the fucker covers my mouth again. My body is completely pinned to the ground, and with the police car covering our position, there’s no way the person in that car will see me.

Panic rushes over me as I struggle to breathe.

But then the car comes to a screeching halt right in front of us.

With my face smashed against the concrete, I can’t look up, but I can clearly hear his steps as he charges toward us. Then my attacker is swatted off me like a fly.

The cop screams out from pain. “Motherfucker!”

I turn on my back and scramble away from the scene, pulling up my skirt at the same time. The sun shines on my face so brightly, I can barely see what’s happening, but I know they’re fighting. That’s when I notice the little strap around his head.

It’s Viktor.

I put my hand in front of my mouth as I watch them hit each other. The cop punches him dirty, in the gut and in the balls, and Viktor buckles. I don’t know what to do as I get to my feet and watch the men fight. Viktor keeps punching him until the cop is down, and for a moment, I think victory is near.

Until the cop pulls out a gun.

Bang.

It only takes a fraction of a second to get Viktor to the ground.

I scream as blood pours from his thigh.

But Viktor doesn’t give up.

He charges at his attacker with everything he has, pinning him to the ground. But the cop won’t give up either, not while he has a gun in his hand, which Viktor is trying to snatch. They roll around on the ground, engaged in a power struggle, but neither of them seems willing to give in. The pure male grunts that come from both of them tells me neither will stop until the other one is dead.

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I run to the cop’s car and search around inside for anything I can use. I know it’s only seconds, but it feels like minutes before I finally find something useful … a baton.

I take it out and rush toward the two men. That’s when I notice Viktor’s on the ground with the cop on top of him … and the gun pointed at Viktor’s chest.

He shoots.

The baton goes up and down, smashing with full force onto the cop’s head.

His hand drops to the ground.

So does my baton, blood spattering everywhere.

The guy’s face is completely ruined, his eyes still half-open.

I watch his soul leave. And I fucking enjoy it.

Panting, I step back away from the blood pooling at the cop’s head. Tears stain my cheeks as I realize what I just did. What just happened. It all went so quick.

Viktor turns his head toward me as he tries to sit up.

His mask has split into two and pieces of it have broken off.

And then his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he falls down sideways on the road.

I look at him and then back at the cars, which are now empty and ready to use.

For a second, I contemplate escaping the scene.

But as I get up, an unfamiliar feeling weighs down on me.

A feeling I’ve only ever felt for my sister.

Responsibility.

He came for me.

Viktor pushed the cop off me and fought him to save me.

Whether he did it to get me back or to help me is beside the point.

He helped me … and he paid for it with blood.

I can’t not help him.

So I kneel beside him and lift his head. For a moment, I’m taken aback by the scratch marks and bruises on his skin from his struggle with the dirty cop. I try not to look at the body beside Viktor as I inspect his wounds. They look like they need to be treated, but I can’t just take him to the hospital. With both our histories, that would be like handing him over to the cops myself.