Free Demon at My Door by Michelle A. Valentine

off an attacker if I was ever in this position, but I was dead wrong. My only option now is to beg. Maybe it will make him realize what he’s doing. 
    Bile rises up in my throat as I think about what he has planned. “Please, Trevor,” I whimper. “Please. No.”
    Warm tears flow into my hair, and I attempt to get Trevor’s bloodshot brown eyes to focus on me, to realize he’s doing something wrong. No such luck. His eyes burn with unfathomable rage—rage he’s ready to take out on me.
    His hand runs roughly up my thigh and reaches under my skirt. My breath catches. His fingers turn into claws as his nails scratch my skin in attempts to pull my panties down. 
    “See, Sugarman, I can be just as nice as Masterson,” he says between ragged breaths. He leans in for a kiss, but I whip my face away from him, so instead he kisses my neck. 
    His cologne overpowers me, and I grow light headed from the strong stench of spicy musk that crams my nostrils. I breathe through my mouth and shut my eyes. I just want him to stop and go away.
    “Please. I’m begging you. Please, stop.”
    He ignores my pleas, and his sloppy kisses continue to leave a trail of slobbery wetness on my neck. I try to force my brain to take me to another place, far away, so I won’t have to endure the guaranteed torture he has in store for me. I begin to zone out.
    There’s a hard knock on the door. “Natalie?”
    My body tenses at the sound of possible help, and once again I have enough energy to fight back. I open my mouth to scream for help, but Trevor’s massive hand quickly muffles the sound.
    “Natalie?” Rick calls again. “Are you alright?”
    “Get lost, fucker! Sugarman’s busy,” Trevor shouts. His body stills like a statue, allowing a blanket of silence to cover the room. He stares daringly at the door with narrowed eyes. 
    “Natalie?” Rick calls, his voice agitated. 
    I whimper under Trevor’s disgusting palm and try to squirm away from him.  He locks his eyes on me.  “Sugarman, I swear to God, you better not say a word.” 
    At this point I figure I really only have two choices—lay here and take it, or make a scene and let Rick know I need help. I decide to go for door number two, and before I can think about it I sink my teeth into the fleshy part of Trevor’s palm. Warm blood seeps into my mouth before he jerks his hand away. I know I got him good. Here’s my chance.
    “Rick!” I scream before Trevor raises his hand to smack me yet again. I cover my face to avoid any additional blows. 
    There’s a loud crack, and the white six-paneled door nearly flies off the hinges as Rick kicks it in. The light shining from the hallway casts an angelic halo around him, like he’s my own personal savior. 
    “What the hell, dude?” Trevor shouts, but the murderous look in Rick’s face tells me he’s not here to discuss the situation.
    Rick storms over and grabs Trevor from behind with the strength of ten men and throws his sick ass to the floor. 
    Trevor attempts to stand, but he’s quickly shoved back down and lands with a heavy thud. “Don’t get up until I say you can,” Rick orders.
    Trevor doesn’t listen and tries again. “I think you need to mind your own fucking business!” 
    Without warning, Rick springs on Trevor like a wild animal and lands a hard right-handed punch in his face. “She.” Another punch. “ Is .” And another. “My business.”
    Rick releases Trevor’s shirt and lets him fall to limply to the floor. My knight in shining armor splays his fingers, trying to shake the pain from his hand. Then, he turns to me. “Are you alright?”
    I look down at myself and realize my skirt is still shoved around my waist. I quickly smooth it down. There’s a smear of blood the back of my hand. My bottom lip still throbs, so I trace it with my fingers.  Blood covers my fingertip and I wipe them on my skirt and then run my fingers through my hair. Slowly, I peer up and meet Rick’s intense gray