(I'm going to go ahead and rate this part R just because of some language and events.)
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Parts: 2 of undetermined!!
Never The Same Again
Part 3
By: Ashley
Laverne had been on the train for approximately forty hours, sleeping most of the time and, admittedly, wallowing in her own self-pity. Everyone has to do it at some point or another. She hadn't eaten much -- her stomach was twisted into knots -- and it was her first plan of action when she reached Illinois. It was dark when she stepped off of the train, but the skies were illuminated by street lamps and neon signs. One sign in particular caught her eye -- a rather large sign that read "Betty's" let off a garish, neon glow.
As she entered the door, a small bell attached to it rang. It wasn't the cleanest place in the world. In fact, it was nothing more than a greasy spoon. But it would do, she decided, for a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Tired, grieving, and very much unsure of what the heck she was doing, she sat down at the bar and placed her order. She felt half dead. And suddenly... suddenly she felt a presence looming over her and a hand being placed on her back. She whirled around in her barstool, greeted by a very sterling looking man. He was dressed in a suit -- looking almost as though he had just gotten off of work. His hair was dark, thick, and curly, and his body muscular and tanned. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help noticing you when you walked through the door," he said, flashing a smile of pearly white teeth and dimpled cheeks.
"I look that rough, huh?" she asked, not meaning to incorporate any humor into the sentence, but he chuckled.
"No, no! In fact, you're the best looking thing I've ever seen walk into a joint like this," he paused for a moment and blushed. "I'm sorry, forgive my forwardness. My name's Dave," he said, extending a hand.
She couldn't help but smile at his charms, and shook his hand in return. "I'm Laverne."
"Laverne. What a beautiful name. Are you from out of town?"
Laverne nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. "Yeah. I'm on my way to New York to visit a friend."
"Boyfriend?"
Laverne shook her head. "No. Just a friend."
"Ah," Dave sighed, and then paused. "Look, Laverne, I know we just met and all but... there's a little Italian place up the street called Gino's... the pizza's pretty good and the Chianti's fantastic. I thought... well, that is, I was hoping... maybe you'd, uh, join me?"
What did she have to lose? He looked like a Greek god and had impeccable manners... what reason did she have to say no?
And so Laverne agreed, stepping out into the night chill that roused around Chicago and into Dave's black sports car. He peeled out, and the smell of burnt rubber reminded Laverne of when her dates used to peel out in high school. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. She could have a couple of laughs with Dave that night, and then she'd head to New York first thing in the morning to see Carmine. Every word that came out of Dave's mouth was almost musical, and she found herself laughing at his intense wit. And then she noticed...
"Hey Dave," she said, still laughing at his last joke, "ya just passed Gino's."
He was laughing too. "I know," he said.
"Yeah but, uh, what are you doing? I thought we were going to get something to eat? I've just been on a train for forty hours and believe you me, I'm pretty hungry so if we could just..." he was pulling over into a deserted parking lot -- for the most part it was grown up with trees and moss and bushes and weeds. "Dave, what are you doing?"
In his right hand, she saw a gun. His left hand grasped firmly around her wrist. "Get out of the car."
"Do what?"
"GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR."
Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Panic rose through her as he pulled her out of the car by the wrist.
"Dave... Dave you're hurting me..." Maybe he would listen to her. Maybe he would listen to reason.
"Now lay down."
"WHAT?!"
"I SAID LAY DOWN!!!! ARE YOU DEAF?!" he said, holding the barrel of the gun against her left temple.
This couldn't be happening to her. What had she gotten herself into?! The concrete was cold and rough as she laid against it. And then... and then he raped her. Mascara streamed down her face. He was hurting her... hurting her badly. She tried to scream but nothing came out. She was going to die. She knew she was going to die.
And when he was done, what did he do? He smacked her across the face, called her a couple of not-so-very-nice names, and drove off.
He left her there. Bleeding. Crying. Helpless. Shivering. In the cold. He left her there to die. She felt dirty. She had left California with the intention to make things better... and now this had happened.
"Ohhhhhh God," she sobbed, still laying on the cold, dark cement.
And that's when she took a deep breath... she smelled something. Something very familiar. She heard breathing. She felt a hand. She felt another hand. She could feel herself being turned over and...
She knew those eyes. Those big blue eyes.
"Are you o..." the voice began, but trailed off. "Holy..."
She was crying so hard she gasped for air. "LENNY!!!!!!!"
His hands were cradled beneath her head. "Laverne..."
With every bit of strength in her body, she grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket. They felt so good in her hands. The tears burned in her eyes. "Oh, Lenny..."
Her face was scratched. Her head was cut and bleeding. And there was this look in her eyes. This look of absolute terror. A look he'd never forget as long as he lived. "What happened to you, Vernie?!"
She pulled herself upward, closer to him, still sobbing. "Len... oh Len... he hurt me. He hurt me... so... bad." She leaned in toward him, putting her arms around him. "Oh Len, you're so warm." He was afraid to touch her. In the past when he'd tried to touch her... she'd rejected him fully. "Lenny?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you do me a favor."
He closed his eyes. "Anything."
"Will you hold me?"
Will you hold me? How long he had waited to hear those words come out of her mouth?
And that's exactly what he did.
To Part 2
To Part 4