The inside of my eyelids felt like sandpaper, scratching and burning against my eyeballs. I fought between blinking them open to clear out some of the lingering sand and clenching them tighter so that the peeking sun I could feel against the skin of my eyelids would be kept at bay. I sensed that it would make my already throbbing headache worse. It was beating like a heart, pounding like I’d just had a pint of whiskey to myself the previous night. At first, I wasn’t sure why. I was lying down and the bed beneath me was soft, forgiving and— The man grinned at me, not as malicious as Stitches, but just as eager. His expression was a mask of lust, but not that delightful, edible lust that I saw shine in Johnny’s eyes before he took me until I screamed. No, this was different. This lust was as much for the violence as it was for my body. I couldn’t let this happen. I watched as the man began to undo his belt buckle. I realized that beneath his jeans there was already a bulge, telling me that he wouldn’t need any time to get ready for me.
