Free Mesmeris by K E Coles

I must have relaxed, blinked, taken my eyes off him because something hit my arm and the glass went spinning from my hand. It ricocheted off the skip, away into the rubbish, brushing Dim’s leg as it passed.
    Tipper’s face, his triumphant grin as he closed his phone, the excitement in his eyes, made me feel faint. The three of them came towards me. ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, hang on a minute - listen – listen.’ I held a hand up, as if that would stop them. ‘Stop – stop a minute, just a minute.’ They didn’t stop, all had the same look in their eyes - the same excitement, the same glee. ‘Don’t – look, don’t. Please – please.’ My voice grew louder and higher-pitched, until it was just a shriek.
    Tipper put his hand on the back of my head and grabbed a handful of my hair. I cried out, felt it tearing at the roots. I punched at his chest, then tried to stick my fingers in his eyes, felt the soft, warm wetness.
    ‘Shit!’ Tipper’s eyes streamed with water. He let go of my hair to wipe his face on his sleeve but before I could get him again, Jenkins and Dim grabbed my arms and pushed them back against the wall. Tipper blinked furiously, his left eye red, the lashes stuck together. ‘Gonna teach you a fuckin’ lesson now, you bitch.’
    He pushed up against me. I tried to kick him, knee him, anything. I couldn’t move. His breath stank of fags and alcohol. My stomach heaved. He held my chin in his hand, lifted my face to his.
    ‘Get me that glass.’ He waved his hand.
    As soon as Dim released my arm, I went for Tipper’s eyes again.
    This time, he was ready, caught my wrist. ‘Too slow, Miller.’
    Tipper took the glass from Dim and stood back, examined it, felt the edge with the tip of his finger. ‘I’m tempted to use this, Miller.’ He stroked my cheek with the cold glass, traced my jawline.
    I held my breath.
    ‘One way to upset lover boy. Doubt he’d want to look at you again. Maybe he’d cry.’ He turned his mouth down. ‘I think he’d cry, don’t you?’
    Jenkins giggled.
    Tipper bit his lip. ‘I’m very, very tempted,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think I will.’
    I sobbed but saw no pity in those pale blue eyes, no compassion - nothing.
    ‘Do you know why, Miller?’
    I couldn’t shake my head because the glass was pressed hard against my skin. One movement and it would slice through the flesh.
    ‘Because,’ a sick smile, ‘I don’t like to get blood on my clothes.’ He flung the glass against the wall. It smashed into pieces.
    He’s going to kill me, I thought, here, in this horrible place, with the smell, the dirt, the rats. I jerked my head round, tried to bite his hand.
    He smacked me across the face. The taste of metal poured into my mouth. Then he kissed me. Disgusting. I bit him, caught his lip.
    ‘Fuck! Fuck!’ He pulled away sharply, his hand to his mouth and looked me in the eye. Pure hatred.
    I screamed. His mouth silenced me. He was all over me, his hands all over me, his mouth on mine. I kept my mouth shut tight, my teeth clamped together as he tried to push his tongue inside. I should have let him and bitten it off, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear the taste of him. It made me sick. I could hardly breathe, couldn’t move. Jenkins giggled in my ear. I stopped struggling, closed my eyes, shut myself off from it. This isn’t me. It’s just my body. I’m safe inside, where they can’t reach me, where nobody can reach me.
    Tipper forced his knee between my legs.
    ‘Cops!’ Someone shouted. ‘Cops.’ I opened my eyes. Collins stood at the entrance, waving his arms frantically.
    ‘Shit!’ Dim and Jenkins let go of me and ran for the alleyway and I think I’d have passed out with relief but Tipper didn’t move. His body still trapped mine against the wall, held it upright. My arms were free from the elbows down so I pummelled his back where I hoped his kidneys might be. His jacket was padded though and it was impossible to get any strength behind