The team smelt of mint, lemon and something else she could never place but it sparked a happy memory of her mother from when she was a girl. Her mother had been a fragile thing, always too sick to go outside, but they'd had tea parties. Her mother, Samantha had turned them into this marvellous elegant affair. They'd dress in skirts and blouses. They'd pin their hair up into a stylish chignon. They'd wear little dainty white gloves. Her mother would order them cakelets from the local patisserie and her father would play the old piano that had sat in the corner of their foyer.
In her mother's most elegant china she would make up a table just for the two of them. Her father, Roland, would then play the piano while they dined, in a proper tailcoat and all. Stef could almost remember her mother's perfume when she took her first sip leaning against the counter. Soon the rain didn't seem so loud, the thunder so ominous. After she put down her glass in the sink, she didn't even bother to pick up her baseball bat as she left the kitchen, flicking lights off as she went.
She was fine. Everything was fine. Stef didn't bother turning the lights on in her room when she slipped back into bed.
She felt the pressure on the mattress before she heard him whisper, hot breath against her cheek, "yer such a pretty thing." A flash of white hot panic took hold of every nerve in her body. Her body that felt heavy. Too heavy. Her breath caught in her throat.
More pressure on her mattress, "she is ain't she".
Balmy calloused fingers traced their way through her hair, nails scratching softly at her scalp, along her ear, down her neck and then into her décolletage when suddenly her vision went dark.
###
The tears came out in choking sobs before she noticed the throbbing headache tearing at her skull. The alarm clock flashed 5 PM at her nightstand.
Her mouth was sand paper. Her naked skin covered in bite marks. Her whole body screamed out in pain.
One trembling hand reached out for the cell phone at her nightstand, while the other pulled a towel up to cover up what he'd done. She couldn't look at herself. Looking made it all too real.
"911 what's your emergency?" A soft female voice rang out from the line like a bell.
"I-I knee, I need help" Stef gasped, her throat hoarse.
"Are you in immediate danger?" The operator asked quickly in a level tone.
"I-I think I was drugged, I, I'm covered in marks, they might be still in the house" Stef whispered frantically.
"I have your address ma'am, I'm sending officers to you now, is there somewhere you can lock yourself in or hide until they arrive? Somewhere safe?" The operator asked in an assertive but soothing tone.
"I don't know if I can" Stef sobbed quietly.
"You can. Tell me what you see." The operator continued.
"The bedroom, I, there's a closet a-and I can see the door to.. the bathroom across the hall." Stef whispered.
"Does either room have a lock? Or can you barricade the door?" The operator quickly asked.
"I.. How much longer until they get here? They're going to come back." Stef whispered.
"Francis I need you to be brave for me right now okay? Is it okay if I call you Francis?" The operator cooed.
Stef threw up but nothing came out. Dry heaving quietly she dropped the phone onto her bedspread. It wasn't her phone. It wasn't her phone.