Amish Passion (Erotic Romance) (Amish Heart Trilogy) (8 page)

Thursday

It was after the coffee, the breakfast dishes, and the sweeping of the floor.  Rebekah was going to collect all the eggs: today’s plus yesterday’s which had not gotten collected because she took off to the hospital.  W
as that only yesterday?
  She was going in the buggy to her parents’ house to take them over eggs so that deviled eggs could be made for the funeral and to help her mother with anything that was needed.  More than likely she would be traveling to the Community’s shared phone to call and tell far away relatives and friends about Leah’s death.  Ezekiel would be working for at least two days making Leah’s casket in his woodshop. 

Rachel was still sleeping. 
Since the baby had such a hard time going to sleep the night before, Rebekah decided to let her sleep.  Collecting her egg basket, she walked into the dim of the large henhouse, thinking about Nick and how worried he must be about her.  If only she had a moment yesterday to call him on the telephone.  She knew he carried a cell phone with him but she didn’t know the number.  Tomorrow wouldn’t give her a chance to meet him either but maybe she could somehow get word to him about what was happening.  Surely, he would hear about the funeral from the other Amish in nearby Communities.  More than likely he would be bringing people to their home on Saturday for it. 

Startled out of her reverie, she was suddenly aware that someone was behind her in the henhouse.  Instantly her m
ind went back to two instances: the time Nick surprised her in the hen house in Wisconsin and the time they made love standing up in her father’s barn.

She started to say, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday
—”

She
turned, relieved to see him, only to be staring mouth agape at the piercing sneer of Jakob.  Rapid as a snake, he clutched her arm and thrust his knife at her throat.

“You mean you weren’t at the gas station yesterday?
Oh, you thought I was
him
, did you?”  As her eyes widened in horror, he guffawed.  “Oh, yes, I know all about
him
.”

Her
throat was too dry to cry out. Terribly conscious of the blade to her throat, she thought of once watching a cat toy with a mouse.  She now was that mouse in the filth-some grip of Jakob.  He would overpower her and outmaneuver her.  He had no scruples that she could appeal to. She would be no match for him.              

He forced her down into the hay, straddling her.  Still holding the blade to her throat, he playfully stoked her face. 
             

“I saw you.
I saw you in his van the other day.  You never saw me, but I followed you that night that you both snuck out when we went to Wisconsin.  You fucked him.  You
fucked
him!”

With abject
terror, she remembered that night and the feeling of being watched.  It had been loathsome Jakob, cat-killing Jakob, and now . . . would it be
murdering
Jakob?

“And now it’s your turn to be fucked.”

Holding the knife to her throat, he grabbed the front of her dress and ripped it away, baring her naked chest.  Savagely, he twisted her breast.  Then he reached behind him with the other hand and, pulling up her dress, tore at her bloomers.  She heard the sound of ripping fabric and started to struggle.  But she only struggled for half a moment as the blade at her throat was suddenly alive in his hands.  It grazed a thin burning line into her skin.  Blood trickled hotly to the back of her neck.

“Oh, just give me a reason!” he snarled.  “I would
just love to cut you.”

He fumbled with the snaps on his pants, exposing his erection, as large
and ugly as his father’s.  Seeing the dread in her eyes, he taunted, “Oh, yeah.  I’m going to fuck you.  And you,” he traced the sharp tip in a half circle along her face from her eye to her lips, “you are going to act like you like it.”             

Moving the knife back down to her throat, Jakob ripped her bloomers further and wedged himself in between her legs. 
If I beg for my life, it will only add to his twisted pleasure
.  She prayed that God would show mercy on her and that, like his father, Jakob would come quickly, thus ending her torment.  With an evil laugh, Jakob jabbed his erection deeply into her.  Fear had made her tissues dry and constricted and entry wasn’t just painful, it was agonizing.  He stabbed her again and again, using his prick as the weapon, shoving it deeply into her core.  She soon grasped that her prayers of Jakob finishing swiftly were not to be answered.  Horribly, Jakob had other ideas.  He was going to take his time.

And so he did, fucking her torturously, salaciously licking her tear streaked face and bearing down into her with all his brutal might, viciously ripping the walls of her vagina. 

Just when she thought he might be close to coming—
oh God, what if I get pregnant by this monster, IF I live—
he withdrew from her battered pussy. With a closed fist he assailed her squarely in the eye socket. 

“On your hands and knees,” he demanded.
“I know how you whores like it.”  Grabbing her by the throat, he tossed her over on her stomach. Images of the bloodied, skinned cat flooded her mind
.  I wonder how many others he has done this to.
  Here again, Rebekah was paying the price for her sins.  She was paying for every second of bliss she shared with Nick.  And now she was going to pay with her life. 

Jakob tore at her hair, dislodging her bonnet and pins.  With her hair in one hand and his knife still holding the edge to her bleeding throat, he prodded her to her hands and knees
, positioning himself behind her.  Digging violently, he ripped into her once again, belting her with his venom.  She never believed something that was so beautiful, so sublime with Nick could ever be so horrendous.  When Ezekiel was using her body to drain his own feeble fire, she felt befouled.  But the invasive violation that was occurring now threw her soul into turmoil.  It was a desecration of everything she had held sacred within herself which she had given lovingly and freely to Nick.

Please, oh please merciful God, let this be over, let me escape.
  But it was not to be so.  After what seemed a wretched eternity, he pulled out of her without having climaxed
.  Oh God, Sweet God, let this please be over.  Let it stop now, dear God.  Please, please.

“You are going to suck me off,” he intoned drily.  “Bring me your mouth.”  Standing, still holding the point of the blade at her throat and the other one gripping her hair tightly, he forced her face over to his cock
.  At her resistance, slammed her face with the back of the fist that was holding the knife.  “I said, open your mouth.”

Suddenly
her throat was full of him and he was pushing deeper with each thrust. 
He doesn’t care if he chokes me to death.  In fact he would like it
. She held her mouth as still as possible and concentrated on calming her throat muscles as so not to gag, and breathing when he pulled out. 

Gripping her hair even tighter, he lunged deeper and faster, stomping his feet and moaning.  A terrible stream of hot, salty fluid
spurted inside her mouth and down her throat.  She felt like she was drowning. 

Finally finishing, he pulled out of her mouth and put his knife away in its s
heath.  Then, he slapped her hard yet again which knocked her down on her back and caused blood to flow out of her nose.

“See, the way I have this figured is if you want me to keep quiet about what I know, you’re going to do what I want.”  He licked his lips obscenely.
“Any time I want.”  He threw the torn bloomers at her, and fastened his trousers.  “Now clean yourself up.  We don’t need anybody else to know about our little secrets, do we?”

Suppressing a sob, she watched him leave the chicken coop, swaggering as he went.

Rachel
.  The thought tore through her heart. 
I have to get to Rachel.
  Not bothering with the shreds of her clothing, she got herself up as fast as she could and ran for the house.  No telling what that monster would do to a helpless baby. 

She threw the front door open
, ignored Mother Yoder’s snide comment about her wretched appearance, and scrambled half tripping up the stairs
.  Rachel.
  That’s all she could think about. 
Rachel.

At her bedroom her boots made loud echoes in her ears as she rounded the bed to the crib and looked inside.  Rachel lay on her back, her dark curls in disarray, making the slight sucking motions that she sometimes did as she dreamed. 

Nearly in tears with relief, Rebekah sat on the bed for a moment observing the sweet undisturbed peace of the child.  It was up to her to make sure her daughter kept that peace.  She couldn’t keep her here another minute.

In her shock over what had just happened she moved with singleness of purpose.  She only threw into a bag what Rachel would need for a day: diapers and a change of clothing, nothing else.  Gathering up her sleeping child, she headed out to the barn to hitch up a buggy only to be frustrated when she got there.  Neither horse nor buggy was in the barn.  No sign of Ezekiel anywhere. 

What to do?  I could wait for Ezekiel to get back.  No, if I wait, then Jakob could come back and do worse than he’s already done.
  She thought of the malice in his eyes as he skinned the cat and the nefarious smirk on his smug face as he had assaulted her and then gazed down at her small baby. 
No, we have to leave now!  Right now!

Shouldering the diaper bag and carrying Rachel’s baby seat, she headed out on foot toward the other side of town.  It took her three painful hours to walk to Nick’s trailer.
Every step of the way she was in fear that Jakob would follow them.  Every step of the way, her body cried out from Jakob’s abuse.  As she plodded on, she sensed her face becoming more tender and swollen.  It was hard to see out of one eye.  She drew curious looks and avoided meeting anyone’s eyes, lest they should ask her what happened.  She was quite out of her senses, confused, terrified, and overwhelmed.  Nonetheless she strove on. 
Must get to Nick.  He’ll know what to do.  He said he would protect Rachel.  Must get to Nick.  He’ll know what to do.
  The chant went around in her head as she trudged, her feet too heavy and clumsy for her body. She made them move by sheer force of will. 

Finally arriving at Nick’s trailer, she was flummoxed to find his van missing.  She tried the door.  It was locked. 
Where is he?
  That he wouldn’t be there never occurred to her.
Where was he?
  Panic was striking within her and all her cognitive powers were slipping away. She tried to concentrate on breathing.  She had to hold on.  She couldn’t lose control now.  Jakob could be watching right now.  He could arrive and kill both of them at any time. 

Overwrought,
she tried to focus on her daughter.  Rachel would need to be fed in a matter of minutes.  Rebekah couldn’t believe the child hadn’t started to complain already. Grappling with her emotions, she sat down at his doorstep with Rachel next to her to watch and wait. 

The hours dragged by, made increasingly more acute by
Rebekah’s angst and injuries.  She realized, as the humidity and heat of the Missouri August afternoon rose, that she had neglected to bring water, food or money.  By three o’clock she was parched.  By five o’clock, she was febrile.  By eight o’clock the sun was starting to set and she was out of her mind with worry.  Nick’s van pulled up to the trailer just as darkness was falling.  Despite having waited for him for over nine hours, she did not run to meet him. Rather she sat hugging her knees, making herself as small as possible.

“
Rebekah?  Is that you?”

“Where have you been
?” Shouting, she hurled her vexation at him.

“What is wrong?  I’ve been working.
Here, come inside.” Carrying Rachel, he unlocked the door and snapped on the light.  “I’ve been working all day—
sweet mother of God
, what has happened to you?”  He put Rachel down on the floor and visually inspected Rebekah’s bruised, broken face and torn clothing.  “Who did this to you?”  He reached out to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked. 

“Okay.  Okay.”  He poked his head outside the door, looked around outside a bit and then, finding nothing, closed and locked it.  Getting a glass, he filled it with water and handed it to her.

Despite having been thirsty all day, she could not drink it.  She held the glass
in her delicate hands as if it might bite her. 

“Please sit down.”  After a moment of staring at him and having nothing horrible happen to her, she decided to sit.  He sat
beside her, close but not touching.

“What happened?”

She stared at him, dazed.

“Becca, who did this to you?  Tell me or so help me
—”

“I can’t go back there.”  H
er hysteria was evident in her voice.

“No one is going to make you go.”  He
spoke to her gently and indicated her glass.  “Drink your water.”  He had to repeat the words several times before it registered to her that she was actually holding a glass of water.  With shaking hands, she brought it to her dry lips.

After a moment, she seemed a bit more focused. 

“You okay?”

She nodded. 
Yes, I’m okay
.  She wasn’t.  They both knew it.

“Becca,” he spoke to her very softly but firmly
. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She shook her head.

“Okay.  Can you tell me who did this to you?”

She shook her head
again, but answered almost voicelessly, “Jakob.”

“Jakob . . . hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“Jakob assaulted you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he rape you?”

Unable to meet his concerned gaze, she dropped her head.  She wanted desperately not to answer.  Somehow, if she could avoid the question, it might make it so it never happened.  She looked at her hands. Her nails were rimmed in dried blood from touching her injuries.  A tear filled up in the swollen eye and squeezed out onto her cheek, then another.  And another.  But she could not allow herself to let it all out, only a few drops.  There would be no tears for Leah, no tears for herself, either.  She felt Nick’s penetrating eyes upon her and her eyes briefly darted over him.  She could only bear it for a second, and then was forced to look away, look at anything but Nick.  He could see into her and know the depths of her despair and right now no one could know.  Not even Nick.  She couldn’t let it out.

“I see.”  It was Nick’s only answer.  It was the best thing he could have said to her.  It gave her the freedom to get a tiny bit of emotional distance from her own circumstance. 

She was still unable to meet his eyes.  Finally she could answer.  “Yes.”  It was a whisper. 

“Becca, we should go to the police
—”

“
NO!”

“Well, the asshole has got to be stopped
—”

“NO!”

“I see.”  Silence.  Then he said, “Well, what do you want to do?”

She looked around, a dire expression on her face.  “I want . .
. to take . . . a shower.”

He had never looked more serious.  “Are you sure I can’t change your mind about going to the police?” 

She knew that if she spoke to the police Jakob would come for her and Rachel.  They escaped this time with their lives.  Next time, they would not be so lucky.  “I’m sure.”

“Okay, then.  Do you need any help?”

She put down her glass and headed for the bathroom without answering.  Once there, she locked the door and turned the hot water on full blast.

Feeling the s
calding water hit her body was a tremendous relief.  The water was hot—too hot— and that suited Rebekah just fine. She grabbed a washcloth and the soap and scrubbed her entire body raw, trying to erase Jakob’s touch on her.  It seemed as if she would never be clean again.  After scouring every inch of herself, she lay down in the tub in a fetal position and let the stinging stream strike her in the face and torso until long after the hot water was gone.

Getting out, she inspected her bruises and cuts.  A nasty black eye with the white of that eye a deep red met her gaze in the mirror.  She also possessed a deep gash to her upper lip and cuts on her cheek and throat. 
Many bruises.  She surveyed her hands.  All the blackened blood was gone from underneath and around her nail beds. 

She picked up her torn smock.  It was hateful to her and she despised the idea of putting it back on next to her clean skin, but she had brought no other clothes.  She discarded the shredded bloomers in the trashcan and pinned her dress back on her as well as possible.  She combed her fingers through her wet hair, and made makeshift braids to pin back in place but realized that her pins and bonnet were missing, having been jerked off by Jakob in the chicken coop.  For some odd reason, she started to cry over this, as if somehow having her hair back in place would make everything right and protect her from Jakob. 
Wails wracked her body and soon Nick tried to open the door.  Upon finding it locked, he knocked.              

“Becca.  Honey, open the door.”  When she didn’t answer, he simply repeated, “Open the door
.” Then: “Baby, it’s me. It’s just me.”

She crum
pled to the floor and, unable to move, allowed her sobs to fill up the tiny space surrounding her, somewhat frightening in their power and somehow comforting in their release.

***

“Okay, so what do you want to do?” 

Rebekah
took another sip of hot coffee before answering.

“I need to go back to get a few things.”

“What things?”

“Diapers and clothes for Rachel, letters, drawings by Sarah, things of mine.”  She knew that once she left there, she would be shunned, and those letters and
drawings would be all she had of people she loved.  She had thought of clothes but figured she would be wearing English clothes soon enough.  Well, maybe she should get a change of smock and apron.  She felt she would do anything to get out of these despicable ones into anything clean. 

“Okay.  I’m coming with you.  When do you want to go?”

She considered this.  Right at this moment she felt strong enough.  In the morning, she might falter once more.  “I suppose it should be now.”

“Now it is, then.”

Holding out his hand for her, he took Rachel’s seat in his other hand.  Timidly, Rebekah took his hand as they walked out into the night.

They were silent throughout the
fifteen minute ride through town.  They were going to get her things.  She was leaving home tonight, end of story.  What more did they have to say?

As they drove into the driveway,
Rebekah was full of misgivings
.  What will Ezekiel say?  What will Jakob do?  What if they won’t let me leave again?
Unconsciously, she clutched the edge of her seat, trying to prevent herself from having to go into the house to confront them. They walked up upon the long porch and she partly felt as if she should knock
.  This is crazy.  I live here—No, I
lived
here
.  She opened up the door and they walked in.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!”  Jakob looked quite pleased with himself at her dismay over finding him there waiting for her.  Ezekiel stood beside his son, blinking at the sight of her.

Nick handed Rachel to Rebekah and without any ado, walked over to the boy who outweighed him by over thirty pounds and punched him solidly in the jaw. 

“You damned son-of-a-bitch!”

“What are you—” Ezekiel started, but took another look at his wife’s broken face and his objection was checked.

Rebekah
watched in horror as Jakob removed his blade from his pants pocket and unfolded it.  He jumped forward, taking a sweeping strike at Nick.  Nick parried and Jakob responded with several jabs arching close to Nick’s throat. 
Good God, please don’t let Jakob hurt him!
  The two men circled each other with Jakob lunging and Nick blocking his advances and dodging.  In obvious frustration that his attempts at bloodletting were not successful, Jakob dove at Nick.  Nick knocked him off course by picking up a rocking chair and smashing it over Jakob’s head.  The chair shattered, sending pieces hurtling across the room.

The blow stunned, but did not stop Jakob.  Seeing red, he charged at Nick
while swinging his blade wildly at Nick’s chest.  Nick partially blocked the blow, instead getting grazed on the shoulder with the tip.  Rebekah screamed as crimson seeped through Nick’s shirt.  Another swipe landed on Nick’s arm, drawing forth more blood.  Rachel started to howl and Rebekah backed up with her into a corner, ready to flee.  Jakob looked over at the frightened woman, licking his lips and grinning.