The Maing of Wren

How does he even know my name?...

One more equation. My head was already aching from staring at my trig book for hours. Finally. I shut the book with a huff and stretched my legs out in front of me. They were tight from sitting on them as I bent over my books in my humble apartment bedroom. The lamp beside me cast a warm glow around my cozy space. With a sigh, I lifted my books and dropped them into the worn messenger bag that had been my father's.

Standing, I stretched again and felt the muscles in my back begin to loosen. I shook my hair out of my headband and glanced at my watch. It was already well past midnight. I made my way to the kitchen and found one of my favorite mugs that was shaped like a fox. I started a pot of boiling water and heard the front door slam. I glanced over to see my roommate drop her purse by our door and run a tired hand through her wild blonde hair. She was the picture of a young, hot, blonde, Southern California native. I knew I was pretty, in an understated kind of way, but Miranda was something else entirely.

"You know it's Sunday night, right?" I asked her with a raised eyebrow.

"The weekend doesn't end till I say so," she slurred, pointing at me lazily.

"Your lecture tomorrow morning might disagree with you."

She grinned saying, "Worth. Every. Minute. Trust me."

"Oh yeah? What was his name?" I grinned.

"Bish, how do you know it was a guy?" she laughed.

I pointed to my neck to indicate the dark oval bruises dotting her collarbone and jugular. She glanced down trying to assess the damage what's-his-name may have inflicted.

I smirked and shook my head. The nightlife was never lost on Miranda. She stumbled to her room to sleep off the rest of her adventures that I was sure I would hear all about tomorrow, granted she remembered them.

Miranda and I had become fast friends our freshman year. In that awkward uncomfortable sea of feeling over confident to finally be a college student and also woefully overwhelmed and self conscious, finding out that Miranda and I both danced growing up was all the glue our friendship needed in the beginning. We bonded over long nights of late night milkshake runs and swapping horror stories of forgetting dance steps on stage and crazed teachers swearing they would chop our toes off if we didn't point them. When the opportunity to move off campus together came, we took it.

Once my tea was made, I brought it, and my tired self, back to my room. I peeled off my purple tank before pulling off my shorts. I hadn't slept clothed in years. It was fall, but in southern California, that didn't mean much. I switched off the lamp on the desk by my bed and laid down. I pulled my soft duvet over my naked body and lay on my back for just a moment. A familiar itch that I had gotten good at suppressing throughout the day surfaced in my body. The feeling that began to kindle in my core began to spark and flame as my mind wandered back through all the stories I had read and the videos I'd seen. As my hand began to wander down my body, I dwelled on a familiar scene I had read over and over again online. In my mind's eyes I could see a handsome, muscular man behind a woman with her legs splayed. He had her wrists tied in front of her on the bed, and she was bent at the waist. I imagined how he roughly grasps her hips as he thrusts into her wet pussy. I imagine him reaching up her body and grasping a handful of her hair, pulling her head back, and making her scream. As my mind indulged in these thoughts, I began to slowly rub my damp pussy. I could feel myself getting wetter as I rubbed.

I picked up my pace, running my fingers through my wet folds. I ran my other hand down to my breast. I kneaded the soft mound in my hand as I slowly began to press my fingers into my tight slit. I stifled a moan as I pressed two fingers all the way into my dripping pussy. I let out a sigh of pure pleasure as I gently pinched my nipple and began to press against my g-spot. The aching flame inside of me was at a full blaze now as I continued to imagine scenes of rough, hair pulling, neck biting sex. I pinched my nipples a bit harder, my fingers now thrusting in and out of me. I could feel my tight walls clenching around my fingers as I got closer and closer to climaxing. With a final thrust all the way into my now soaked sex, my back arched, and I came with abandon. Finally sated, sleep began to creep into my vision. My tired eyes consumed me as my body lay in the afterglow.

I woke up with a start. My breath was heavy and sweat dampened my brow. I chewed my cheeks to relieve my extreme case of cotton mouth as my eyes fell on my window. The moon was high, and the city slept. I rubbed my eyes for a moment, debating. Could I fall back to sleep? The nightmare I'd become all too familiar with had settled in my subconscious again. I looked around my room focusing on anything else but the tendrils of memory slowly slipping away.

I sighed before swinging my legs off the side of the bed. Sleep would not be an option right now. I'd had so much trouble sleeping lately; I constantly felt watched. I always felt like I wasn't alone. Nightmares had plagued me for months now, and I went to bed nearly expecting them. Strange houses, large mazes, horrifying monsters, and dark faced men. These were all my companions after I closed my eyes. I was annoyed at this point. Nightmares as an adult felt not only terrifying, but downright embarrassing.

I drug myself out of bed and pulled on my running shorts and a sports bra. I grabbed my tennis shoes as I walked out into the kitchen. Glancing at the illuminated stove clock before I left I saw it was nearly 5. My classes would be rough today, but running always made me feel grounded. I strode out into the warm, but breezy, California night and took up a slow jog; a short run would exhaust me enough to get a couple more hours of sleep later. I loved being out when the rest of the world slept, nobody was expecting anything from me, I didn't have to be anywhere, every moment mine.

I ran down a side road past my apartment and passed a slew of cookie cutter houses with minor variations between them. All trying to prove their individuality in a sea of conformity. There were clouds over the moon, and I heard nothing but the sound of my breath getting heavier as I ran. I saw no one, not that I expected to. A low rush of wind passed me and made the hairs on my arms stand straight up. The quiet suburb I ran through let off to a connector road between two

eighborhoods. I stopped for a moment to collect my breath, and then I looked around and still saw no one. I half expected to see a pair of glowing eyes peeking out at me from the bushes. I shook my head at my paranoia. Get it together, Wren.

I picked up my pace again and continued to make my way towards the second suburb. My shadow began to shift in front of me as headlights came up from behind. I made my way to the sidewalk to allow the van to pass by. Brakes screeched, and I turned quickly as adrenaline began to pulse through me. It was all in slow motion. The white van doors flung open, and out leapt three men like panthers. My scream was caught in my throat as I tried to run the other direction. They were cloaked in black and the cover of night. The first one to grab me grabbed my upper arms from behind, the rough skin on his hands cutting into my arms. I tried to kick up and get off the ground to kick something, anything. His grip was vice like around me. I wriggled forward and twisted trying desperately to shake his grip. Another man came forward and grabbed my legs and hoisted them out from under me. I was now held like a sling between the two men, my legs kicking furiously.

A scream ripped out of my lungs, but nothing happened. I kept screaming as I was hauled towards the van. No one came. I was alone at the mercy of these beasts that hunted me. I was being moved towards the open doors of the van that looked to me like the open gaping passage to hell. My breath was gone. It was leaving me as I gasped in panic trying to regain my ability to breathe. They were too strong and quick; I didn't stand a chance. Panic gripped my very bones.

I was tossed haphazardly into the back of the cold, seat-less van, and the men followed close behind. I scrambled to the far corner of the van on all fours away from them. I didn't realize I had been crying until I felt the AC on my damp cheeks. The engine revved, and I felt the van jump into gear with a jolt. I felt the weight of my situation in full as I realized I was being carted away to god knows where.

"Remember what Mav said," The driver called back. I leapt for the side door, but before I got to it I was grabbed by the waist and pulled into the lap of one of the men. I struggled as much as I could before my arms were painfully wrenched behind my back. I felt a thick, cutting rope encircle my wrists tightly and bind them there. I sobbed loudly as the circulation was cut from my hands. I kicked as much as I could, but it did no good. All my feet could find was the floor of the van as I was held against the man who had tied my wrists together. I howled in anguish as my hair was pulled hard by the man behind me.

"Shut up," he demanded. I sobbed and couldn't stop. I wanted to be strong, I wanted to be defiant, I was only terrified. I heard one of the men behind me moving. He soon crouched directly in front of me, and I could only now clearly see his face. His brow was heavy set, and prickly scruff lined his cheeks. Two silver loops pierced his brow, and a snarl spread across his cracked lips.

"If you do not shut the hell up I will give you more to cry about, cunt," he threatened in a heavy accent.

"Calm down, Don," the man that held me said, obviously annoyed. "Besides, Mav wanted her delivered unharmed." Even after the defense of the other man, I tried to quiet my crying. I felt the man holding me relax his grip a bit. I debated only for a moment. I may not have another chance, so I made my move. I kicked up and out of his hold. I tried to spring to the door of the van as quickly as I could. I pulled at the binds on my wrists, but it did no good.

"Little bitch," I heard Don yell. I turned just in time to catch his knuckles soaring towards my vision. Blackness.