آپ were lying on the ground of the cold, dark, wet ally, soc on سب, سب سے اوپر of you, unbuttoning your shirt. آپ had دیا up the screaming and crying; no was going to hear آپ anyways. آپ were helpless.

The booze on his breath was strong. آپ tasted it in his mouth when he tried to kiss you.

“You’re a verrrrrry purtyyyy girl,” he slurs into your ear.

“Get off me,” آپ scream.

He clamps your mouth shut with his hand. “Shhhh, I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

آپ bite down on his hand. Hard. He lets go of your mouth, and آپ scream for your boyfriend Soda, یا anyone that would hear.

سے طرف کی this time your شرٹ, قمیض was off, and he was working on the بیلٹ, پٹی of your jeans. All آپ could do was cry. He was much bigger than you, آپ didn’t stand a chance of fighting him off.

Suddenly, the soc is knocked off of you. آپ sit up to see Soda, punching the guy repeatedly in the stomach, screaming profanities at him, face full of rage.

The سیکنڈ the soc is out, he turns his attention towards you. He rushes over to you.

“(Y/N), baby,” he kisses your forehead. “Are آپ hurt? Did he actually…” He asked, eyes full of anger.

“No,” آپ say, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“You’re going to be fine…” He says gently rocking you. “I promise.”