Chapter 7

Heather

He's gone. He left me.

Sprawled in the dirt and utterly destroyed, I lie staring after him like an empty rag doll. He came, played with his new toy, came again, then discarded me like trash.

He's gone.

My mind loops the two words as though their meaning may magically change.

I shift my gaze to the stars and blink to clear my lashes. Tears slip from the corners of my eyes and trail down my temples.

My entire body hurts. I've never felt so raw or exposed before. Battered from his monstrous cock, my swollen pussy weeps both my release and his pungent scent.

Tremors of pleasure run up and down my spine, and my insides throb from his ruthless invasion.

I've never been so sexually satisfied, but the pain in my chest shrivels my heart.

He left me.

He ruined me, changed me, and then left me.

Blood oozes from my mangled shoulder and trickles into my ear from my cut cheek. I run the back of my hand over the side of my face and wince as the movement tugs on my wounded shoulder.

An unfamiliar scent fills my nostrils. I lift my hand up to the sky and study the crimson caked under my nails and coating my fingertips. Saliva floods my mouth. I want to taste the evil scarecrow's blood.

I lower my hand toward my face, but a burst of laughter startles me. I stop with my fingers a few centimeters above my open mouth and turn my head but see only corn.

As though waking from a dream, I roll onto my side in slow motion and fumble with my leggings. I work my drenched tights up onto my legs and hiss as the cold, wet fabric settles against my abused pussy.

When I roll onto hands and knees, pain streaks through my shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the invisible gaping wound in my chest. I stare at the ground, expecting to see my sternum cracked open and my heart and lungs dangling in the dirt as blood pours from me, but only a small line of crimson drips from my shoulder. A single drop from my cheek works its way off my chin and splatters near my fingers. Coated in blood and filth, my hands look like someone else's, but they respond when I close my fingers.

With handfuls of dirt, covered in sweat, and smelling of sex, I hang my head, only to suffer a bout of déjà vu.

Safety lies a few feet away. I failed to reach it. This pain in my chest started before trench coat caught me.

He came alone. There were two chasing me.

I struggle to my feet and stumble toward the sounds of people.

Both scarecrows scare the shit out of me, but my initial attraction to them has only grown, and after my complete ravaging by trench coat, I'll never settle for a normal human again.

Whatever that monster shoved inside my pussy destroyed me. He rearranged my insides. Scrambled my brains. Forced me to orgasm again and again.

My legs wobble as I push through the corn and emerge on a man-made path. The compacted sand under my feet shocks me with its smoothness, and I stumble across the walkway until I catch myself on the stalks growing on the far side.

"What the fuck? Is that Heather?"

The voice is familiar. Worms crawl in my belly. This is wrong. I don't want to be here. My heart and mind align for the first time in what feels like millennia. Silent screams of misery echo in my head. I push off the corn stalk and stagger to the center of the path.

"What are you doing, babe?"

Charles. Must get away.

"Looks like she joined the scarers, although I must say I like her costume a lot more than the others."

Devin. My skin crawls. Cold air brushes over my breasts as my wet shirt clings to my curves. Torn down the center, a strip of flesh remains exposed to the elements and their unwanted gazes, but I don't have the energy to pull the sides together. My ripped sweater hangs loose around me, ruffled by the breeze. I push my legs to carry me toward the field. I'd rather face the scarecrows again than deal with these creeps.

"It's sexy once you get past the gore. You went all out, didn't you, Heather?" Devin says.

I turn sideways to slide between the stalks, but icy fingers wrap around my upper arm, chilling me through the fabric.

"Where are you going? You should hang out with us for a minute," Devin insists.

I grab the stalk in front of me as he tugs me toward him.

"No," I croak through my abused throat.

He pulls me harder. Pain lances through my shoulder and black spots dance in my vision, but I refuse to release the corn stalk.

"She smells like sex," Devin says.

He tightens his grip until my fingers throb from lack of circulation and my bones ache. With my arms stretched to their max and my strength waning, I train my eyes on the darkness behind the corn and pray for salvation.

"Let go of me," I demand, but my voice emerges weak and pathetic.

Charles grabs my chin and crowds me with his bulk.

"Did you cheat on me, babe?"

I jerk my chin out of his hand and nearly fall as my head spins.

"Don't touch me," I hiss.

"Whoa, calm down. This is a good thing. Now we're even and can start fresh."

He's not making any sense. I don't care. I just want to get away from him and Devin. They stink. I hate being near them. Every cell in my body rebels against their presence. Their touch makes me want to puke and scrub my entire body with bleach.

"We were never going to be exclusive, anyway. I only agreed because you were so insistent," Charles continues.

As understanding dawns, I realize I don't give a shit. He cheated on me, but so what? It doesn't matter. I planned to break up with him as soon as we got home anyway, and the things I've endured in the last hour or two have changed me so drastically those thoughts seem like they were from a different person.

"Let go," I say as I try to pull myself away with my grip on the stalk.

Charles grabs my wrist to peel my fingers off the corn, but jerks back and stares at his hand.

"Is this real blood?" he asks.

Devin scoffs.

"It's obviously fake, dude. Anyway, if she wants to fuck in the dark, I'm down. She must already know a good spot out there, so let's go," he says.

I grunt in pain as he angles me to face the corn and presses his front against my back. With my fingers locked around the stalk, I dig my heels into the sand and resist. Charles grabs my wrist again.

A big, black hole opens under my feet, threatening to swallow me whole, but I reach deep into my chest and notice two thin strands running off into the distance. I pour my fear, pain, and disgust into the connections, following my instincts as my knees give out.

Two sets of eerie red eyes appear in the darkness between the cornstalks.

My heart leaps with joy. I sob in relief.

Everything hurts, and it's their fault, but deep-rooted instincts insist they are the only ones who can ease my pain.

I need my scarecrows.

Now.