Fanfiction: Survivor
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“Please Hear What I’m Not Saying” Don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by the face I where. For I wear a mask, a thousand masks. Masks that I am afraid to take off. And none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me. Don’t be fooled. For God’s sake and mine, please don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure. That all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without. That confidence is my name and coolness my game. That the water is calm and that I am in command, and that I need no one. But please don’t believe me.
~~~~~~
Franklin Inc. Coal Mine
Friday, May 4, 2004 9:45 PM
Sunnydale, Ca
Rational thinking and I have never met before.
Oh well, I tried to call B on my cell, but the battery was to low and I never signed up for the unlimited nights and weekends. That’s as rational as I’m going to get about what I’m about to do.
This night is so typical it isn’t even funny. Dark, storming like crazy, wet and not in that I’m-about-to-get-some sort of way. Here I am at the entrance of a coal mine, about to rush in and lay the smack down on Sunnydale’s first demon serial killer.
The Rainman, as he’s being called in the underground these days for all the tears he’s caused, has murdered no less than forty humans and demons in the last five weeks. Some of his demon victims were informants of ours. Pretty okay for the non-human kind.
Never before has it taken so long for us to catch one baddie. Especially one that’s not even all that super powered. Three of his victims got away, and all said that while he was pretty damn strong and invulnerable, he bled and could be hurt. They had all gotten lucky.
Good enough for me.
Problem was, this guy was smart. Never killed in the same place twice. Had no preference of victims, and no real agenda. He just wanted to make a name for himself. Make a statement. Being a demon killer in a town full of Slayers was one bold ass move to begin with. He killed and left the bodies for us to find. Mostly just broke peoples necks.
Two days ago he broke a kids neck.
A five year old little girl with big blue eyes who was guilty of nothing more than running a little to far from her Dad at the park. She was reported missing from the Park View Children’s Playground. Her disappearance has been the talk of the West Coast ever since. With all the added Police, F.B.I., and media running around it’s been making things tougher on Buffy and I to catch this monster.
I had the unlucky fortune of finding the little girl. And let me tell you, shit doesn’t get to me to often. Ain’t to much a bottle of Jack Daniels and some good sex won’t make me forget. Most of the time the Jack Daniels is more than enough. But not this time. Finding that child’s cold lifeless body in the bushes behind a garbage dumpster made me almost lose my lunch. I patrolled that night for nine straight hours looking for the Rainman.
I found nothing. Not diddly squat. And I wanted this motherfucker so bad. Xander thought I was becoming obsessed. He was right about me as usual. He sees through me better than most. Even Angel these days. When this is all over I’m gonna have to have a talk with Mr. Nice and Sexy Shoulders.
He’d love it if I called him that to his face. Maybe someday….
Back to business.
B and the Scooby Gang are worried about me. Especially Xander. Tough shit. This guy got major TV exposure last night and I think I got him figured out. He’s a glory hound. He’ll want more victims. I have no doubt tonight’s victim will be a human, but he’ll try to escape using Sunnydale’s underground tunnels and passageways. He wants the media whipped up into a frenzy. He’ll attack again. Keep the momentum going. He enjoys that. Gets off on it, I bet.
Good.
Let him.
It’ll be easer to kill him that way.
I got lucky as hell about ten minutes ago. From the three surviving victims, one was a demon and I talked with him for two hours straight. Got a real good idea about what this guy looked like, and that he was tattooed from head to toe. I actually caught sight of him creeping into this abandoned coal mine from the streets. Area’s like this are known demon and vampire haunts. The local coppers know to stay away. Good thing me and law enforcement don’t mix.
Willow’s been doing her magic mojo day and night trying to find this guy. Whatever he’s doing, he’s blocking her attempts to find him.
He won’t block my knife.
I’m going to tie this disgusting piece of shit to a wall, cut him in about twenty places, and watch him bleed to death. Slowly. Then sit back like I’m watching some motherfucking T.G.I.F comedy shows. His death will be the highlight of my week.
And maybe the parents of that child I found will get some closure.
I’m running through a small series of tunnels now. It’s dark as fuck, and I’m drenched. My feet are digging deep in mud. But I’ve got his scent. I can smell death and it’s not far up ahead. My knife is hungry. I’m the predator tonight. No one else is going to die.
Light.
Up ahead. Fire light. Torches. Good.
I’m creeping along the side of the wall, no doubt ruining my leather coat. I can hear chanting up ahead as things become clearer for me to see. I can smell dead flesh and I know I’m close. This fucker is…is….
Okay, all of a sudden I’m nauseous. It’s a wave that hits me like a ton of bricks. But as soon as it hits, it’s gone. Maybe that Taco Bell I ate earlier is coming back to haunt me.
Finally, from around a corner, I see him.
The Rainman.
Built like a tank, he was all hulking chest and bulging biceps. First impressions on his skin made him look like a white guy, but a closer look told you his skin looked nothing like a normal humans. Dry, raised, and resembling the material of my jacket more than anything. The Rainman stood about 6’11, just like the reports said. His eyes are dark, no pupils. He’s sitting in the middle of a Pentagram, shirtless, wearing only black pants. His entire body, arms neck, shoulders, chest, stomach, back, are all covered in Satanic symbols. All appear to have been carved in his skin. I recognize them because I’ve studied them recently. Another clue one of the victims was able to give us.
From the side he resembles a common biker thug. Just some big lumbering guy with a ton of tats and a face no mother could love. I wonder if he knows he’s going to die tonight.
“Leave now while you still can.”
I’m smiling already. Good, he knows I’m here. We don’t have to play games. “You’re never going to leave this mine shaft, Rainman. I’m going to see to that.”
He doesn’t move from his spot on the ground. This cave clearing we are in has torches aligning the floor. More Satanic symbols adorn the walls, know doubt written in blood. “Had you not come alone you might have had a chance against me.”
“I’ve been counted out plenty of times, jackass. And I’m still standing.”
Finally, he does too. His bald head is even covered in tattoos. He turns to face me. Evil and uncaring. Looks as if he weighs at least 300 pounds. And that’s all muscle. Doesn’t matter. He’ll bleed just like the rest. Before I tie him up I’m gonna beat the shit out of him. Make it hurt real good. And take my time while I’m at it.
He’s circling me now, expressionless, full of that kind of evil that had no name. “Do you like to kill?”
Oh great, another jerk who’s watched Silence of the Lambs once to often and wants to engage in psycho babble. “I don’t want to play games with you, junior.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To end your miserable life.”
“Then you do like death after all. You seek it even now. How alike we are in that regard.”
Enough is enough. I charge dark and ugly, duck a lunging right hook, and land one of my own. Instantly my hand explodes in pain as I reel backwards. My blow didn’t even turn his head. What the fuck?
“You hunted me, but could not find me with your magical eyes. That’s because these are enchanted torches. Anything in their vicinity having to do with magic or mystical properties is negated. The only demonic power I possess is the need to not breathe. I tell you this for two reasons.”
The hair on the back of my neck is flaring up as bad as the pain in my right hand. My knife is drawn in the next instant. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
The bastard’s smiling at me now. “I don’t mind telling you all of these things. The knowledge will do you no good after tonight.” Good, stupid bad guy. Keep talking. Just keep talking. “You’re gripping that knife pretty hard.”
My hand’s still killing me. Whatever. Push past the pain. “Enough of this shit.” I rush in this time, landing a straight kick flush to his chin that staggers him a bit, but should have sent him off his feet and slamming against the wall. Wasting no time, I slash once across his chest, taking his blood at the same time. Viciously, he lands a brutal backhand that connects with the side of my face and I can’t remember the last time anyone hit me that hard. Not even Angelus or Buffy hit that hard.
I’m on the ground now. My lip’s busted pretty bad and my neck hurts like a sonofabitch. He’s standing over me, staring….
Then he absolutely smashes his fist into my face. I scream, despite myself. My nose may be broke. I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. I can’t even move. Everything is a blur of pain and vulnerability.
He hits me again, harder!
I’m slowly losing consciousness. How in the hell is he that strong? I should be able to shrug off his blows with ease. This doesn’t make sense. What in the world….
Then it hits me, but he explains at that very moment.
“Your Slayer powers are mystical in nature, young one. But here, they are negated. You are no more than a slim, frail little girl attempting to attack me. Nothing more. Less than that even. You allowed your rage to fuel you, and that it is your undoing. You weren’t smart enough to figure out what was happening around you before it was too late. You rely on your powers more than your mind. Without those powers, you are worthless.”
Before I can respond he backhands me again so hard I cough up blood all over myself. Next, he reaches down, grabs my hair and lifts my head off the ground, then rams the back of my head back down into the dirt. I’m barely there, breathing heavy, bleeding, in severe pain. My face feels like it is on fire. I can’t move, though I try to scoot away.
Fear…. Fear begins to grip me.
Then I feel them.
His hands.
Pulling my leather jacket off…. Ripping my shirt in two…. Tearing my bra away…. Oh God, stop. Please stop. My mind is begging because my lips can’t do that. I want to. I know I need to. But if I’m to die here, he won’t get the luxury of hearing me beg. I’ll die with that.
My jeans are yanked off of me hard. My ass connects with the ground, He uses my own knife to tear my panties away, and I’m naked. Naked and helpless before him. “Killing me won’t prove jack shit,” I manage to slur while spitting some of my own blood in his face.
“Who says I’m going to kill you?”
I’m delirious and now sick to my stomach and…. I’m scared. Having flashbacks of my youth when I actually had innocence to be taken away. He’s staring down at me, not looking aroused or angry or even hateful. He’s just staring as if I am nothing. Nothing at all to him or anyone in the entire world.
I still won’t tell him to stop. I won’t yell it. I won’t give him any satisfaction. He’s going to rape me. That much is clear. I don’t have the strength to stop him right now. Fortunately for me, I’ve been raped before. And as disgusting as that sounds, I know the key is to survive the attack.
Worry about everything else later.
I am on the floor, bleeding and in pain, but I am alive. My body feels strangely numb as I assess myself as best I can. Cuts and bruises that I can not account for coat my face and neck. A dull ache runs down my spine from the base of my skull and I testingly move my head from side to side. With a slight protest from my muscles it moves. I am relieved. My vision is hazy and fades in and out of focus but I am brought back to reality abruptly as his face appears in front of me.
“I seek release this evening. But death will simply not do. I shall use you for what your sex was meant to be used for. Please do not scream. I enjoy the quiet when making love.”
He’s sick and twisted and I am so fucked. This maggot has the nerve to call rape, love making. So did two of my step-fathers once upon a time. If I survive this he will die by my hand and no other. I just don’t want this to happen. Not now. I can’t let this animal rape me. I can’t! I won’t!
He slams his fist into my skull again. I’m gasping, about to pass out. I want to speak but I have no voice. I am suddenly aware of his close proximity and can feel the burning desire to vomit. He stares at me, pupils dark and feral. He speaks, but the sounds are blurred and distant, the ache in my skull becoming more prominent. I think he called me beautiful. He descends on me again coming closer, reaching out a sturdy hand to graze my face. His touch is so gentle, so slight, but it burns through my flesh scolding the bone beneath. Graceful fingers stroke me over and over again and I am hit with a sudden rush of revulsion at such a gesture. So intimate an act when performed by the right person but used here as a weapon against me, and an insult to….
I can’t think of him right now. Not here.
The Rainman’s gaze is a blatant display of maleness and territorial domination. He has power over me and he knows it. I hate it with ever fiber of my being. He becomes entranced by my hair and has to touch it. He’s looking at me as if he’s waiting for my permission to touch my hair. I’m struggling against him, and slapped hard for my insubordination. As he caresses my hair with a look of adoration on his face I am again disgusted. I can feel his rotten breath against the skin of my neck and it chills me. I am surrounded by his scent, a warmer likeness of death that is too much to bear and I try to remove myself from it only to be sucked even further into its realm. His index finger slides quickly under my chin bringing my eyes back up to meet him as I try again to shift away from him, but can’t. I spit my own blood in his face again, cursing him. His features radiate the torrent of emotion that writhes within and I am paralyzed by its ferocity as he brushes my hair aside and leans his lips against my ear. My surprise escapes in a burst of air before I can contain it, and then I hear him as my eyes fall shut.
“Making love to you will please me indeed.”
“You got a rape fetish, huh?” I’m swallowing blood now. “You’re nothing. A nobody who’ll be forgotten in a heartbeat.”
“You’ll never forget me.”
I just don’t have the strength to fight back and I hate myself because of it.
“I’ve watched you, young one. Watched you fight reckless and violent. I like your spirit. I intend to indulge in that tonight.”
“Go to hell!”
“Eventually.”
My eyes are full of unshed tears, they threaten to spill like a broken dam, but I know I have hold on to the thin strand of self control that still lives within me and refuse to let them fall.
My head aches, my stomach rolls and cold sweat appears on my skin. I close my eyes against the harshness of the dull light as I desperately try to regain control of my labored breathing that sounds hollow to my ears, but I am given no true time to recover.
“Others have enjoyed raping you. Of that I am sure.”
He stands before me, a languid grin on its face as a hand firmly rubs the all too obvious erection it sports through the fabric of his clothes. My stomach lurches and I only have time to turn my head as bile thunders up my throat, pouring out of my mouth onto the ground beside me.
I’m scared, disgusted, and if I knew a prayer I’d say it now. I am not a religious person, never have been, and as such I am opposed to the idea of a higher power. I heard the parables, the Gospels, the tales of Jesus and his miracles and each left me cold and unfulfilled.
But look what not believing in a higher power has gotten me. I can’t win for losing.
“It is time….”
Fingers grip my shoulders, digging into the sensitive skin and instinctively I strike out, my knee connecting with his balls with a satisfying crunch. I just didn’t have enough strength behind the blow. He doesn’t even look annoyed with me.
With frightening speed he is on me once again, arms locked around my waist, trapping my arms by my sides. Reaching back, he strikes me again, this time loosening two of my teeth. The right side of my face is swollen badly. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t…. I can’t stop… I struggle against him but feel his grip tighten even more. His large incredibly muscled form too great a match for my considerably lighter one, and despite my attempts to push back against him and free myself I become trapped the against the floor and the body that holds me firm. My mind spins as I feel fingers groping me, roughly kneading and squeezing my breasts to the point they go numb with pain. He mutters in my ear and I feel violated for the first time in a very long time.
“I’m going to make love to you till you bleed and beg for me to stop.”
I want to scream but it dies enroute from my lungs and all that I muster is a small whimper to show my anguish.
Using his weight as a restraint, his left hand travels to my thigh, touching and groping me. Scratching and pulling with haste that echoes the image of vigorous sex but lacks the emotional attachment. I am trying with everything I am to put my wall up and just go with the flow, but I am brought back to earth with the feel of his dirty hands squeezing each cheek of my ass, separating them the point of pain then releasing them to repeat the process.
I’m….
Ohgodohgod….
IwillnotcryIwillnotcryIwillnotcry!!!!!!!!!!!
It hits me then full force, this is rape! The end is now inevitable. I have seen it before, and although I did not want to believe it, it is here. My voice is weak, my vision blurred but I find from somewhere the reserve to try and reach him one final time before he hurts me.
“Stop….please.”
That cost me everything. How deeply had I hoped to never feel this weak again.
“No. I am sure you are quite familiar with that word. Especially at this very moment.”
He touches me, one hand on the inside of my thigh, the other positioning himself at my entrance. He is hot and slightly wet, a stark contrast to the cold, dry expanse of my body. I freeze, unable to do anything else but admit defeat and succumb to my fate. Maybe my subservience will make the experience less uncomfortable. I no longer care. Every hope and belief I ever had that I was wrong about an omnipotent and loving God is erased at this moment as the full force of his sin is thrust strongly upon me, penetrating my body, ignorant of its resistance. Shameful and worn I scream long and loud knowing that the depth of this act will go unheard and unanswered.
It hurts. Like fire, every movement burns and stings as he fills me, stretching my protesting muscles beyond their limits. I have felt pain like this before. Helpless, feverish, fatal pain.
I hear strained sounds coming from above me and with yet another wave of despair I realize they are coming from him. Evidence of his pleasure. NO! Not his, it’s pleasure. Soft grunts echo each thrust as he drives relentlessly in search of his goal. I am hit with a wave of revulsion as I contemplate the way this will end. I do not want to feel his pleasure. I do not want to have his cum invade my body, the very thought of it makes me sick.
It will scold me, brand me and scar me for life.
I was impatient and over confident. This is all my fault. All my faul…
The hand around my waist pulls me back, lifting me upright and pinning my back to his chest. This time he drives with a new level of force that tears the delicate flesh around him as he pounds me with abandon. I release a guttural howl at the sensation of being ripped and slowly I feel the slight trickle of blood begin to descend from my core down my leg.
I thought being rape hurt bad as a child. Well, it truly and cruelly did. But this pain is even worse. I can’t stop him. Can’t get away. And it hurts so bad. He’s raping me, jack hammering his cock inside me and I just can’t get away.
Just let me live….
Just let me live….
Just let me live….
Suddenly shoving forward and settling still, he climaxed inside me. Without warning, dizziness overwhelmed me, as I slumped forward onto the dirt, with him slipping out of me. The warm cum and blood leaked down my thighs. I felt dirty and used. Not an unfamiliar feeling, but one I haven’t felt in a very long time. How could I have allowed this happened?
I am beside myself, Furious, cold, filled with self-hate and hate of him and hate period. But I live…..
“You were adequate, young one. I enjoyed the release. You should feel proud.”
He’s still talking, and though I am battered and beaten, I’m still thinking. I get precious seconds to store up my hate. One shot left before the buzzer sounds. My knife lies on the ground just out of reach. But not that far…
“What to do with you now? That, I will have to ponder. Perhaps I will arrrgghhaaa!!!!!!”
I will never, ever be able to explain where I found the strength to rise to my feet. I don’t know what unseen force possessed me, pushed me, enraged me. All I know is that with everything I had left in my body I ran at him and drove my knife straight through his throat the second before he looked up and noticed I was coming at him.
My knife came out the back of his neck.
He didn’t think I had anything left.
Over confidence fucked us both tonight.
Wordlessly, I withdrew my blood soaked blade, then shoved it in the side of his neck as far as I could, tearing his flesh apart. Blood shot out of him so fast he couldn’t do anything but gasp, fall over and die. I straddled his waist….
And just went nuts!
I drove my knife into his chest at least a hundred times, slashing and carving up his flesh until he laid in a pool of his own blood that circled him from head to toe. I stood to my feet, stumbling backwards, using the wall behind me to hold myself up.
I survived.
My mind was a blur for the next few minutes. I pulled on the shreds of my clothing, then ran out of the cave as fast as I could. The second I got outside my body switched back on. That’s the best explanation I could give you. I felt my body slowly healing even in those short minutes afterwards. And I welcomed the rain outside.
I ran to my bike, grabbed some change, and rode to the nearest payphone. I don’t remember the number I dialed. But I know Xander picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“I need you.”
“Where are you?”