Take it away.

    Morgan Harris shivered as she exited her high school. Despite the cold, a smile played on the corner of her lips. One last day of Driver's Education and she was off on a week long camping trip with her best friend, Cassie Robertson.



          I need a vacation.



    The tension was slowly leaving Morgan's body as she began the walk home.



          One more day.

          One more test.

          Just one last day.



    Her mind was wondering, lost in a world of warm fires, hot chocolate, and late night fishing.



          Thank God, just one more day.



    A blaring horn ripped Morgan back to reality. She froze, her throat breaking off a scream. Her heart raced inside her sweater as she whipped around to see the approaching vehicle. A small blue truck crept up beside her, the jet black windows effectively hiding her assailant. Morgan stepped onto the curb behind her, her green eyes never leaving the truck's window.



          I could die.

          I might get kidnapped.

          What if he has a gun?

          Who will find me?

          What if no one does?

          I'm going to die.



    The driver's window descended, revealing the menacing smile of a young man. His eyes danced with amusement as a quiet chuckle rose to meet his curved lips.



"Fuck, Morgan, you should know better than to walk in the street with maniacs like me out here." His strong hand slapped the side of the shiny truck's door. "Like the new truck? That bed is where you and Cass will be sleeping for the next week."



    Morgan was still frozen in place, her mind racing to catch up.



    "Morgan. Seriously. Are you high?"



    The reality finally registered and the girl's fear was replaced by fury. A short step forward and Morgan's right boot connected solidly with the bright blue Chevy's front bumper. She took a second to be disappointed in the lack of damage it caused before returning her rage to the man behind the wheel.



    "Are you fucking crazy, Clinton? You could have killed me! Had there been ice, I'd be dead right now! And you'd have to be the one to explain that to Cassie!"



    The smile grew on Clinton's face as he leaned over to unlock the passenger's side door.



    "Shut that pretty mouth and get in. It's cold as shit and I have too much to do."



    A deep sigh escaped Morgan's freezing lips. She knew how Clinton was, should have suspected it was him in the first place. Her heavy boots thudded as she stepped into the truck, and she fastened her seatbelt. The tires squealed loudly upon acceleration.



    "I'm taking you home. Cassie left some clothes at your house last week that she needs for the trip."



    Morgan stared out the window, irritation fueling her refusal to reply.



    They rode in silence to Morgan's home. Morgan was lost in thought as Clinton pulled into the driveway, slamming the truck into gear.



    "Hurry up. I have shit to do."



    Morgan scrambled out of the truck.



          I'm never riding with that lunatic again.



    The door creaked in protest as she threw it open. She thundered down the stairs, dropping her small messenger bag at the bottom.



          No one home. Great. Guess I'll cook for myself again.



    She grabbed Cassie's bag from her small bedroom and kicked off her boots. Her bare toes carried her up the stairs with practiced speed. Her mind was wondering about dinner as she rounded the corner at the top of the stairs. Her thoughts were abruptly interupted, her breath forced from her chest, the bag dropped on the floor. Morgan had run into someone at full length. She struggled for her balance.



    "What the fuck, Clinton! Its gonna be a really fucking long week if you keep up this whole being an asshole charade!"



    Clinton laughed  while Morgan bent to retrieve the bag. Then his laughter stopped and she froze. She knew better than to trust this man, and she was suddenly very aware that they were alone. A chill ran down her spine; she was certain he was well aware of it also. She straightened up, taking a step away from the man.



    "Here's her clothes." Morgan forced the bag into Clinton's chest. "You should go. You know, shit to do." She turned her back to go down the stairs.



    Morgan was unsure what happened next, but before she could speak she was being carried  across the house. A door was thrown open and she was dropped on a hard mattress with a strong hand over her mouth. She struggled to breathe, her eyes darting around in desperation.



          A bedroom.

          Why am I in a bedroom?

          This is Bree's room.

          I'm on her bed.

          I'm on my sister's bed.



    A light thud drew her eyes to the right. An oversized men's shirt sat beside her on the bed, and the strong smell of cologne gagged her.



          A t-shirt.

          There's a t-shirt.



    Metal on metal distracted her again. The whip of a belt. The friction of denim. The thud of shoes. The rustle of cotton.



    Then a rough hand tearing at her shirt. Jeans. Panties.



    A small tear rolled into Morgan's hair. She forced herself to breathe, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.



          Don't hyperventilate.

          Don't hyperventilate.

          Please don't fucking hyperventilate.



    She felt the last bit of clothing as it was ripped off her now naked body. The hand covering her mouth was removed and grabbed her left wrist, his other hand capturing her right. Her eyes flew open to find Clinton's face inches from her own.



    "You're going to like this. And if you tell anyone,-" his grip on her wrists tightened, making the girl wince. "-I will kill you. You know my past. You know I will."



    Morgan's throat closed and every muscle tensed. She was ready for a fight. Fury danced across Clinton's features.



    "Just don't. If you fight, you will lose."



    With that, he took both wrists in his left hand and, without warning, laid a solid right hook across the girl's face. Immediately, his hand was over her mouth again, preventing the escape of her painful cries.



    Clinton smiled cruelly.



    "Remember to enjoy it."



    Morgan forced her eyes closed again. She felt him lean into her, felt his manhood enter, expected unbearable pain.



          Its a dream.

          It won't hurt.

          It can't hurt.



    He thrust deep inside her, her maidenhead ripping violently. She screamed into his hand, her tears falling in a steady stream.



          This is a dream.

          This can't happen.

          That is my best friend's brother.



    Another deep thrust, another cry of pain.



          Please make it stop.

          God, please, please, please.



    Clinton froze, still inside Morgan. Her eyes flew open to find him staring at the door. He stepped back, withdrawing from the young girl's virgin flesh, dragging her with him by the wrists. He thrust a pile of clothing into her arms and pulled her, still naked, to the bathroom. A second later, a key turned in the front door and the change in pressure rattled the bathroom door as someone entered the house. Three distinct voices drifted through the vents, all chatting about a hunting trip.



    "Who is it?"



    Clinton's voice was harsh. Dark. He was a complete stranger.



    "My brother. And my uncle and my cousin," Morgan whispered in a rush. She didn't want him to get violent again. Her jaw ached and she could feel the warmth of a bruise beginning on her cheek bone.



    "Put on clothes. Tell them you're taking a bath. Then get back in here."



    Morgan obeyed. She threw on her clothes and scrambled out the door. Three men were standing in the living room, each holding a sandwich. The conversation died as she entered the room.



    "Shouldn't you be at school?"



    Her uncle's voice was thick through the food in his mouth. Under normal circumstances, Morgan would have been disgusted. Not today.



    "It ended at ten. Cassie let me borrow her truck, since its so cold out. What are you guys doing?"



    Morgan fought to sound casual, was sure she failed.



    "We're hungry! Just getting some grub then headed back to work. Gotta install some hardwood floors at a church today. Tell Cassie its about time she gets a decent truck. We don't like having Fords in our driveway."



    A wide grin spread across her brother's face. The rival between the two was common knowledge among their friends.



    "I will, I promise. I'm gonna go take a bath, you guys have fun at work."



      She returned to the bathroom and locked the door. Clinton was fully clothed, tying his shoes.



    "I'm going out the window. Remember our deal. I. Will. Kill. You." He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "We'll finish later. Promise."



    A moment later he had disappeared through the window. Morgan stripped, jumping into the shower. She heard the voices in the house fade and finally a door slam and lock. Tears mixed with soapy water as the teenager sobbed, trying desperately to scrub the sin away.



    Once she was dry and covered with four layers of clothing, Morgan considered calling the police.



          I should.

          I need to report it.



    Clinton's threat drifted through her head.



          I.

          Will.

          Kill.

          You.



    A shudder ripped through Morgan's body, accompanied by an attack of violent sobs. She forced herself to breathe.



          In.

          Out.

          Deep.

          Slow.

          Don't hyperventilate.



    The girl was at a loss. She didn't know what to do. Couldn't tell a soul.



    She wondered through the house, decided on dinner. Didn't know what she made, how it tasted, good or bad.



    Morgan called Cassie, claiming to be sick and apologizing for missing the camping trip. She finished her Driver's Education, passed it with perfect grades, and couldn't for the life of her remember even being there that day. Her days became foggy, like she was watching someone else live them for her.



    Four months later, Morgan walked out of her therapy session. She was starting to feel better, happy almost.



          Its not my fault.

          I'm in control.

          No man can hurt me.



    She smiled at the passing faces on the sidewalk.



          I'll be ok.



    Morgan was beginnging to feel her heart again, almost felt like a person.



    "We'll finish. Sometime soon. I promise."



    Morgan froze. Her eyes scanned the crowd. She thought she was making it up and started to walk again, faster now. Her eyes met a familiar grin, filled with menace. Her body froze, blood fled from her face, body went cold. Behind her, a small blue truck slammed to a stop. The dark window rolled down to reveal a strange man she didn't know. Back in front of her, the familiar stranger was closing in, taking her hand, forcing her into the truck, covering her eyes as they were taken away.



          No, no, no, God please no.



    A small pill was forced into Morgan's mouth, a drink pressed to her lips. She knew she couldn't fight. Swallowed obediantly. Smiled as the pill took affect and she lost herself to the two men.