"Hey, you dumbass, quit standing there and help me hold her down!"The black man barked, straddling Izzy's crumpled body.He had just slapped and punched her—hard enough to make her double over like a broken shrimp.
Another man, white and reeking of cigarettes, flicked his butt aside and knelt down, pinning Izzy's wrists into the crushed grass.His sour breath and rotting teeth stench washed over her face, making her gag and turn away.
She shivered as rough denim scraped against her skin—the man yanked down both her torn jeans and purple lace underwear in one brutal pull.Tears welled up in her eyes.Memories of her mother—and what had happened to her—flooded her mind as terror swallowed her whole.
She heard the clink of a belt being unbuckled.
Then something forced its way inside her.
The pain—raw and burning—made her cry out, but no sound came from her lips, just the silent tremor of a soul breaking apart.Her blue tank top, the last piece of dignity she wore, was tugged upward, exposing her flat stomach and the trembling swell of her breasts.
Izzy felt her bra snap away.
It was as if her very spirit had shattered into dust, like fragile glass thrown against concrete.In that moment, she wished she could disappear—become nothing.
Gantzuke was twenty paces away when he struck.He circled wide, creeping silently through the tall grass behind them.
Ffft.A silenced round ripped through the back of the black man's throat.He collapsed forward onto Izzy, dead weight pressing her down.
She heard his final, rasping breath against her ear before he went limp.
"What the hell—"The second man looked up sharply.
Click.Gantzuke's gun jammed—no bullet fired.
...Shit. Jammed round…Gantzuke's heart hammered against his ribs.
Time seemed to stretch into syrup.Gantzuke raised the pistol, ready to hurl it at the bastard's face.
The man's wide eyes locked onto him, mouth gaping.The muzzle of his AK-47 swung toward Gantzuke.
His finger squeezed the trigger—
CRACK.
A gunshot exploded from the side.Izzy—still trembling—had wrestled the dead man's pistol from his waistband.
In a desperate act of survival, she fired.
The bullet punched upward into the white man's chin, blew out the top of his skull like a fountain.He toppled backward, dead before he hit the ground.
Gantzuke raised his hands instinctively when he saw Izzy pivot the pistol toward him.
"Don't shoot!" he called.
The voice—steady, warm—pierced the fog of terror clouding Izzy's mind.For a heartbeat, she felt safe.
He rushed toward her as the pistol slipped from her shaking hand.
Blood—thick and dark—trickled from her forehead into her eyes, blinding her.She couldn't see his face clearly.Her battered, broken body finally gave out.Her eyelids fluttered shut—and she surrendered to the darkness.