This isn't the first time I'm doing this, but why is it so god damned hard? I'm at a bar. Crowded. Merriment in the air. My partner, standing beside me, laughs. I looked him in the eye. Of course, I realized. I was once in this position. The drug in my drink had started to take effect. Drowsiness would soon wash over me.

"Here," a voice said. It wasn't my partner's. "Let me help you."

Arms slid between me, pulling on my ribs, my breasts. I glanced sideways to see my partner tipping his drink off his lips. I wanted to puke. Betrayal. Where were my friends? I tried to find one but I was being dragged around a corner and lost sight of the crowd. All hope began to sink.

He was strong. I knew where they were bringing me. The smell coming out of it was a mixture of vomit, piss and beer. Someone else was holding the door for him. That much I could tell. He uttered something to me that must have been creepy by nature because he smiled right after. I could see the cracks in his teeth as he leaned over me.

Sharp cold wetness reached my ankles. One of my heels had come off. I heard the door creak shut. A snatch sounded. Locked. I was being led into a cubicle. I was being lifted onto the toilet and tried to resist by holding against the seat cover. The one carrying me decided not to bother and propped me up on the bowl. The door guy, yeah, let's call him that, walked over. He inspected the goods and seemed to like it. The first one was unzipping me from behind and he came to help. 

It was about time. Vile. All I could think of was what evil could possess men to do such things. The first guy lifted both my arms from the side while the other bent down and moved in from the front. My body, if it could, was screaming out in terror. The last times I was here, I made the mistake of underestimating the door guy. I knew he had records of being in the military but I never expected him to be that adept at brawling in close quarters. 

I could feel his breath between my legs. I continued to play limp while the other guy slid his sweat palm down my arms towards my chests. He was clearly left handed so I knew his grip on me would not be firm. By now the door guy would have his face firmly planted on my underwear while both his arms gripped at the edges. It was a compromising position and this was the moment I had been waiting for.

I moaned. Trying to say something. The one holding my arms leaned in closer to listen. Closer I whispered. He put his ear right next to my lips. That was the moment I screamed, clamped both my thighs around door guy's face and jammed shut my jaw on the other guy's earlobe. As he started to scream, I lifted door guy's head and reeled in. Hard. Slamming his face with such force into the porcelean a part of it broke; an unexpected but welcome blessing for such a situation. 

Instead of keeping to the script, I immediately smashed door guy's face once more into the crack. He let out this satisfying blood curdling scream but I'd let the other guy sink his fist into mine at the same time. This sent me tumbling over the edge. Sharp static noises started to ring in my ears. I was stuck in between the bowl and the wall of the cubicle. My face was stinging from the blow and my eyes were heavy. Lucky for me, door guy was completely out of it while his friend was distracted and furiously checking on him. I tried to readjust myself but he noticed and turned on me next, kicking at me and calling me names. The static was growing louder and I could barely see straight. My body was on the brink and it was time to bail. No! I won't have anything to do with this again. Bones snapped. I think my knee had dislocated. Static continued to crackle so loud it was in my head. I was hard pressed at the corner near the back of the seat and the wall. He lifted his feet in the air; I knew this next blow would be near fatal and simply unacceptable. I called for him to wait, but only a hoarse stutter came out of my lungs. He stopped however. his feet howevering just mere inches before my head.

"W-whu-whuait," I heard myself say. Blood sputtering from the punch I'd suffered earlier. I realized I had been crying. When did this even happen? This was unprecedented of course. The moment's pause washed away all the adrenaline and the pain started setting in. Unbearable excruciating pain. I started to moan and sob uncontrollably. It grew louder but my assailant would have none of it.

"You think that's all you deserve, bitch?" he cried. He had one hand on the cubicle wall and the other still gripping firmly onto his ear. I must have nearly severed the entire lobe. "You think this is enough for what you've done?"

I could barely hear him over the static. I shook my head, the pain nearly blacked me out. 

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"Fuck you, bitch!" he screamed as he lifted his boots for the final blow.

That was the exact moment I screamed and pushed myself forwards and ramming the chipped porcelain right onto his crotch. His boot came down hard on my back but I'd suceeded and he fell backwards, screaming himself. I wasn't done yet. Still gripping tight to the chipped piece my hands were bleeding I dug deeper into him, producing a louder scream. He tried to get up while grabbing at my hands but I wouldn't let go. Blood began to spill out of his khaki pants and mixed with the slime on the floor. I managed to get on my stomach, my knee still hurting like crazy, and crawled up on him. He couldn't move his legs for the pain I bet. All he could do then was moan and whimper in pain. Oh no, I wasn't done with him. 

Gripping hard, I pulled out the shard and a gush of blood followed with it. He cried out begging for mercy. I realized I'd hit my mark better than I'd expected. I was on top of him now, dripping blood, tears and mucus on his face which was already in a similar state. He said he was sorry. I told him sorry wouldn't cut it. This wasn't the first time he'd done this. But this would be the last. I mused at how badly my body wanted the shard up his throat. 

It didn't happen because I was sharply jerked away from behind. Oh shit, I'd thought as I heard door guy's voice in my ear. "Thought you got us real good, whore?" A sharp pain burst from my left rib cage. I nearly blacked out at that moment. He slammed his fist into it again. I cried. He had me up to his chest by my hair. It was my turn to beg. No, please. No. I couldn't see him but I could smell the blood on him. He twisted my hair back hard. "You fucking whore," he screamed. "You think I'm gonna let you off easy? After the fuck you've done to my face?"

He slammed me onto the wall cemented sink. His breath heavy, grunting as he did so. I continued to plead. I could barely stand but he'd pressed himself against me. He started ripping the fabric off my back. I could hear him unbuckling, and I finally saw him, his face, scarred bloody in black and red. He pulled down my underwear and pushed. I screamed. Static again filled my head. I was dizzy. My body resisted, as I did but he pulled again hard at my hair and forced himself in. I could feel the skin tearing within. The static gave way. All sound subsided save for a clear sharp ring of a flatline. No. Not yet, I thought to myself. This wasn't over.

He thursted a second time. And a third. A fourth. Each time made it worse because of the tearing, and the sensation of skin moist with blood. I bore the pain and waited. It was only a matter of time. I could feel it coming. His grip tightening. His breath rasping on the hinges of the climax. The groan about to slip. Right at that moment, I shoved. Kicked hard against the wall with my good leg and pushed us back. He came but we were already flailing backwards. If I had aimed it right, and I had to, for the cubicle was right behind us; and we both fell screaming.

It felt like a long time had passed, but we both lay there, immersed in the silence with only the sound of my continued breathing giving away any indication that I'd survived. As all sensation slowly returned to my arms, I heaved myself, sliding off him. Finally, pressed on the grimey blood soaked floor did I dare to look at what had happened to him. He was lying, mostly on the ground with the lower half of his head firmly lodged in the broken seat. Most importantly, he wasn't breathing. 

As was the other guy, who must have bled out slowly and hopefully agonizingly. I had made my way to his body and dug through his pocket producing his phone. It was locked, but you didn't need access to call the emergency hotline. At least that was part of the script.

I could hear someone banging on the door. It was Shannon. Guess she finally caught on. But I'd done my job and gave the details necessary. The cops had activated the phone's remote scanner and I got them the evidence they'd need. The rest now was predictable. As I set the phone down and caught my breath, I realized this was the best time to sign off.

---

The lights came back on. I was surrounded by the medical team; no doubt, my actions have caused quite a stir. I knew disapproval when I saw it and no one bore the look of that better than my boss, Calissa who stood across where I lay.

"You should've followed the script," she said with that you-know-what-you've-done look on her face. "You really should have."

The rest of the staff were knowingly silent, like siblings do when someone was being scolded by a parent. 

Calissa came to my side and pressed something on my face just under my nose. There was a wet, burning sensation. Without taking her strained gaze off me, she revealed it to be a wet cloth with my blood on it. I was about to speak when she placed a hand on my chest. 

"You could have died in there. You could have jeapordized everything we are trying to do here. As it is, we have enough doubters and detractors in the government lobbying to shut us down. What were you even thinking? No, that was rhetoric. I know what you were thinking. I just.. I can't have you taking risks like that, James. Do you understand me?"

I nodded.

She rolled her eyes while raising her hands. "Of course you do," she retorted.

I realized I was finally allowed to speak so I asked: "Is she going to be alright?"

Calissa was already at the door. "I don't know, James," she griped. "Why don't you ask her yourself. And get yourself cleaned up. I expect you to be debriefed and ready with a report after."

"Hey," I called out to her as she was about to leave. She paused.

"You could have yanked me out at any time. Why didn't you?"

Her expression did not change but her posture relaxed somewhat. "Your report," she stated simply as she left.