PONTIAC PIRATES

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

Tammy was only eighteen-years old. Her petite figure, perhaps a little optimistic with the B cup bra, bee-stung lips and Guernsey-brown eyes helped her get by in a milieu not always considerate of its neighbors. Men had always seemed to grant her special dispensation because of her looks. She wasn’t beautiful nor did she have classical features. What Tammy had was a sweetness and wholesome impression that could tame a shrew. It would have been impossible for anyone to take an instant dislike to her. Most people she met couldn’t help smiling at her sunny expression and peach-blush complexion.

 

She would never forget this lesson, never forgive this monster for hurting her, scaring her out of her mind, destroying her youthful optimism in the basic goodness of humanity. Never.

 

At least she was alive and almost unhurt. It wasn’t as if she had been a virgin anyway. She could survive this. She praised herself for having the fortitude and resolve to look hard at the cruel eyes and remember her demon, brand the cold expression on her brain’s deepest recesses. She was going to see his sallow skin pitted with acne scars every time her eyes opened. In her worst nightmares this maniac was going to press his cracked lips on her flesh and slobber on her cheeks with his fetid breath reminding her of hell. Tammy was going to remember him for the rest of her life and celebrate the day he paid for what he had done to her.

 

When he started to put the tape across her mouth, she felt a stab of panic. It was difficult for her to breathe in the stifling heat mixed with her own fear. Since he had punched her in the face, and her nose had swollen, she had trouble drawing a breath. She gulped a final lungful of air as he slapped the gag in place and lifted her in his arms. He was through with her then, taking her somewhere to abandon her. Somewhere she could escape, recover, sob into the arms of her boyfriend and her mother and be safe again. At least she had survived. She had made it through the worst part.

 

It was dark when he carried her outside. Tammy had no idea where she was. The buildings were all strange to her. She couldn’t get a look at a street sign. Then she was in the trunk of the car, cramped, scraping her cheek on the rough burlap. When he bent over her, she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to look at the face which sent her heart racing and made her lungs fight for air. It was best to feign sleep now, pray for him to hurry and leave her. But he didn’t.