Ben & Nancy

Passion in James County XV: Ben and Nancy

Chapter thirteen

Trish Wilkins only went to see Mrs. Thompson, the school psychologist because she had to in order to keep from being suspended, but she found she liked Mrs. Thompson and kept going back to see her after that first session. And the more she talked with Mrs. Thompson the more she liked her. Before long, she was looking forward to her appointments. Mrs. Thompson understood her, and listened to her, really listened. Talking with her seemed to make the bad feelings Trish had a lot a little less upsetting, and they began working on ways Trish could improve her situation.

After a few weeks, without Trish even realizing it was happening, the girl began to show signs of change. She wasn't aware how much she'd changed until Dawn Dillon commented on it one day as they ate lunch.

"What's going on with you, Trish?" Dawn asked. "There's something different about you lately."

Trish shrugged. "What do you mean?" she asked her friend.

"I don't know, you seem mellower," Dawn said. "And I've never seen you in that outfit before."

"This, it was something I got for Christmas, I just never felt like wearing it before," Trish said. The outfit in question was a loose maroon jumper, with a white turtleneck under it. When she got it, she hated it, and swore she'd never wear it. Now she couldn't remember why she felt that way.

"It looks good on you," Dawn remarked. "And I like the way you have your hair done today, too." Her friend's hair hung loose, it wasn't done up in the outlandish styles she had previously affected.

"You keep that up," Trish said, feeling her face get hot, "and you're gonna make me blush. If you do, I'm gonna smack you, right here in the cafeteria."

Dawn smiled at her friend. "That sounds more like the Trish I've come to know and love," she chuckled.

Trish had even gotten to like working on the school newspaper and was learning to write better articles. Mr. Morris had complimented her several times, and she really liked that. She liked him, too, and was glad he hadn't done what she'd asked him to. It also helped that, after the incident occurred, he never mentioned it again.

When school let out that day, she headed for the paper's office to finish an article she'd started. She bumped into Dawn.

"I'm going down to the mall," Dawn said. "You want to come along?"

"I can't," Trish said. "I have to finish writing an article for this week's edition of the paper."

"You really have changed, haven't you?" Dawn smiled. "I don't think I ever heard you refuse an invitation to go to the mall before."

"Get out of here," Trish laughed. "Some of us care about our responsibilities and aren't just slaves to shopping.."

Dawn giggled. She liked the changes in her friend. " Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow, Trish," she said, and headed out the door.

Alone in the newspaper office, Trish finished the story she was working on, put it in the editor's basket, then turned to leave. She was startled when Buddy Marks walked in. She'd gone out with him a few times and he was a member of a gang of kids she used to hang out with before she started seeing Mrs. Thompson. He was small, stocky, none too clean, and a little stupid. She wondered why she ever thought he was cool and felt a little ashamed of herself for having had sex with him. She hadn't even talked to him in months and was a little frightened by the look she saw in his eyes. "What are you doing here, Buddy?" she asked.

Buddy grinned at her. "I heard you tellin' that Dillon bitch you was comin' up here to do somethin'" he said. "I thought I'd come up and see if we could get it on, you know, like we useta do."

"Buddy, get out of here!" Trish said. "I have no intention of ever doing anything like that with you again!" She tried to get past him, but he grabbed her arm.

"Hey...what's the deal? Is that any way to talk to me?" he asked. "You and me, we useta be real tight, no reason we can't be again."

"Let go of me, Buddy, I have to get home," Trish replied. She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp. Her heart was pounding and she was getting more and more frightened. She knew Buddy was a bully, but she'd never seen him like this before. He'd never done anything like this to her while she was dating him.

Buddy tried to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but the girl managed to get her arm out of his grip and backed away from him. "Don't, Buddy," she said. "Just go away and let me alone."

"Hey, come on, Trish," Buddy said. His face clouded over with anger and he started toward her. "I don't know what makes you think you can get away with bein' so fuckin' snotty all of a sudden. I know what kinda chick you are, so don't give me that shit!"

"Stay away from me, Buddy!" Trish yelled. She was hoping against hope that someone in the school building would hear her cries, come in, and help her. "I'm not going to do anything with you, not now, not ever! Get out of here and leave me alone!"

Buddy had gone to the newspaper office thinking Trish would be only too happy to do a little screwing. Seeing her act as if she wanted nothing to do with him and hearing her tell him to go away enraged him. Who the hell did she think she was? As anger flared inside him, the young man was no longer thinking straight. "Fuck you, Trish!" he said. "Don't give me that shit! You and me, we got it on more times than I can remember. Now you're telling me to fuck off? You can't do that. I've got needs, you know."

"Give me a break, Buddy!" Trish snorted. "I don't owe you anything," she said bitterly. "Get out of here and get away from me! God, you make me sick!"

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Buddy demanded. Something snapped inside him. "Look, bitch, you're gonna give me what I want!" His face contorted with anger, he started toward her.

Trish tried to get by Buddy, but he grabbed her in a powerful embrace and tried to kiss her again.

"Buddy! No!" Trish protested. She struggled to get out of his grip and turned her face aside so his lips wouldn't contact hers. What was wrong with him?

Buddy was out of control. He dragged Trish toward the sofa sitting along the wall of the newsroom, fumbling at her dress, pulling it up, thrusting his hand under the skirt.

"Buddy! No!" Trish cried. She was scared. Buddy was going to rape her! She couldn't believe it! Not now, not when her life was looking so bright. "Please! If you don't stop right now, I'm gonna scream!"

"Go ahead, you cock-teasing cunt!" Buddy growled. "Nobody's gonna hear you. The only person in school is the janitor, and he's clear on the other side of the building."

Trish was more frightened than she'd ever been in her life. Buddy was gaining ground. His hand was between her thighs now, and she could feel his erection pressing against her legs. She didn't want this to happen, but she wasn't sure she'd be able stop him. She didn't understand why he was doing this to her.

Buddy kept trying to insert his hand between Trish's legs. The fact that she was writhing and straining under him only served to inflame his out of control passion more. It also made him more and more angry. He wanted her and was going to have her, whether she wanted him to or not!

"Help!" Trish screamed. "Somebody, anybody, please help me!"

Buddy continued his assault. "Shut up, you bitch!" he yelled. He back-handed Trish across the face with his free hand.

Trish, already shocked that Buddy was trying to rape her, was stunned by his violent slap. For the first time since he'd come into the room, the possibility that she would get raped sank in, and she was more scared than she'd ever been in her life. She wanted to scream again, but was afraid he'd hit her again, or worse. She didn't know what to do. "Please! Don't, Buddy!" she begged. Her arms were flailing and she felt one of her hands smack against Buddy's face. She hadn't intended to slap him and didn't hit him very hard, but it only stoked her assailant's anger even more.

"You fucking cunt!" Buddy yelled. "You slapped me, you bitch!" He threw the young woman toward a row of file cabinets across the room.

Trish felt herself flying through the air, then she slammed against a metal file cabinet face-first, felt something snap in her nose and experienced a twinge of intense pain. Something warm and wet was flowing onto her lip. Unable to stand, she sagged to the floor and laid there, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand, licking blood off her lips.

Buddy had reacted to Trish's attack and thrown her away from him without thinking. He looked down and saw Trish lying on the floor, her face bloody. If she didn't tell anyone what he'd done, nobody would know, he figured. He walked over to the girl, bent down, grabbed her arm, and yanked her to her feet. "You ain't gonna tell anybody what happened, you bitch!" he growled.

"The hell I'm not!" Trish retorted defiantly. She saw Buddy's arm move, then his fist slammed into her face and bright lights exploded inside her head. The intense pain didn't begin until he'd hit her several times.

Once Buddy started hitting Trish, he couldn't stop. "You ain't gonna tell nobody. You ain't gonna tell nobody," he said, over and over; every time his balled fist slammed into Trish, who was soon dangling limp from his hand. He kept on hitting her, oblivious to the blood splattering the file cabinets, the wall, and him.

Finally, exhausted, Buddy stopped hitting Trish, let go of her, and watched her drop to the floor. He looked down at her. Her face was a bloody pulp, barely recognizable as human.

"Now I'm gonna get what I want, you cunt," he thought, opening his pants.

After he finished, Buddy got to his feet and pulled his pants up. He was starting to settle down and as he did, panic filled his mind. "What if she's dead?" he thought as he looked down at the bloody and battered young woman. He realized his hands were bloody, and that blood had turned the front of his shirt bright crimson. He looked around for something to wipe his hands on and spotted Trish's panties lying where he'd tossed them. He picked them up, wiped his hands as best he could, then he stuffed the bloody panties into his pocket and bolted from the room.

Trish wasn't dead, although she was close to it. She lay there, a broken heap on the floor, moaning softly. For some reason, as waves of pain washed over her, she felt it was extremely important to let Mr. Morris know she'd finished her article like she promised she would. Making sure she hadn't failed him became her entire focus, and she fought to stay conscious so she could be sure the message was delivered. She heard the door open.

"My God!" a male voice said.

Trish could barely see because of the blood covering her eyes, but she thought she recognized the voice. It belonged to Mr. Barrett, the school janitor.

The shaking man knelt next to the badly beaten girl. "Who...who did this to you?" he asked. "My God!"

Trish wasn't sure she could stay awake much longer, so she tried to tell Mr. Barrett that he had to tell Mr. Morris the article was done before she told him who had hurt her. "Morris...Mr. Morris...he..." she whispered. Then, too badly hurt to continue her struggle to convey her message, she passed out.