The walk to town is quiet, the familiarity remains though you haven’t quite gotten used to the solitude, despite the years that have passed. You absent-mindedly jump the rotten planks of the abandoned train track until you reach the gravel road that cuts through the forest. The birds flutter past your ear, though you barely flinch anymore, accustom to nature as your only constant companion.
The path ends at the alley between the small sweets shop and the hardware store. You poke your head out from between the weatherworn buildings and scan the sidewalk. When you determine it to be safe you hurry past the line of storefronts and into the grocery market.
The bell dings and the bored clerk ignores you as he flips through an adult magazine borrowed from the display shelf. You continue along the same path you always take down the sparse aisles and grab your usual list. You pause at the absence of your favorite can of soup, even the smallest disturbance in your routine has your heart beating faster.
A deep breath steadies you before the panic takes hold and you grab your second favorite soup. It’s been a while, maybe the change will be nice, at least… that’s what you tell yourself to keep from spiraling.
You weren’t always like this, you used to be carefree, rebellious even. But losing your parents as a child and then your grandmother a few years back has made you wary, defensive and isolated. You slide your money across the counter and the pimple-faced boy gives you a quick glance before taking it and nodding for you to leave. He likely doesn’t know your name, and yet he knows the routine.
He lets you go without scanning your purchases and you take a breath as you pull open the door. The canvas bag weighs heavy on your shoulder and you shift it as you take large steps back toward home. Laughter on the breeze makes your eyes round and you move even faster toward the alley before the nefarious group of bullies spot you.
“Hey!” Someone shouts as you sprint between the buildings, the safety of the trees only steps away.
The thundering of boots across the pavement has your chest heaving. You whimper in fear as you stumble onto the gravel road and disappear into the dense foliage.
“Aw, come on, Little Red,” the leader of the gang snickers. “Don’t go running off back to Granny’s house yet. We just want to talk, is all.”
You hold your breath, rigid and silent as you crouch behind a tree just off the path, hoping they don’t follow.
A branch snaps and the crack of a rock splintering the bark off a nearby tree causes your lip to tremble. They laugh and dare each other to go after you but thankfully, your last warning seems to have made an impression - a shotgun pointed at your crotch will do that.
“Come on, Peter. Neds working today, let’s go sneak into the theater.”
There’s a pause while he considers the suggestion and your skin seems to vibrate under the tension as you await your fate.
There’s a heavy sigh and Peter grits out a terse, “fine.”
You listen to them go, one last rock ripping through the ferns and landing near your feet before they disappear for good. You let out your breath, the tension in your shoulders releasing slowly as you take a moment to compose yourself before starting the journey home.
—
You turn the dented knob, listening to the click of the gas stove until it finally catches and engulfs the small pot in a blue flame. You let the soup heat on low as you prep a sandwich. It’s basic, but so are your cooking skills. All your experiments end in failure anyway and you’re tired of wasting your time, not to mention your food.
You settle into the worn leather chair by the window and watch the sun set through the tall pines as you eat your dinner. The soft bread kisses your lips, the tantalizing scent filling your nose but you freeze despite your hunger. A large figure moves through the trees, it’s shadowy silhouette outlined by the rapidly darkening horizon.
You stare at the gap between the trees, you know something is out there. You can feel it. Body paralyzed with fear, you sit there waiting with bated breath until you hear the footsteps on your front porch.
The short yet commanding knock on the door makes you flinch sharply as the sound echoes through the quiet room.
“Little Red, Little Red, let me come in.”
You gasp in fear at Peter’s malevolent storybook tone and shiver at the hollow laugh that follows. His nails scratch down the thin wood door, a laughably weak shield from the misery that awaits should he try to get in. You swallow thickly as the sandwich slips from your shaky hand and your head snaps back to the window at the sight of a fire blazing in the darkness.
Suddenly, you’re on your feet and gaping out the window as three more torches flicker to life, circling the clearing around your house. You pull the curtains closed and rush to do the same to the four other windows on the main floor. Your heart pounds against your chest, having spotted at least six torches in all, Peter at the door makes seven.
“I’ll huff…” he growls through the door, “and I’ll puff.”
You grab the shotgun by the stairs and aim it at the door, ignoring the way your hand shakes as you check that it’s loaded. With your finger on the trigger you point it at the door and take a breath before calling back.
“You’re trespassing! Leave now or I have the right to shoot,” you call with strained confidence.
“Then I’ll blow your house down,” he hisses and not a second later the room erupts in an explosion of shattering glass.
You flinch as two bricks fly through opposite windows and thud loudly as they crash into furniture before coming to rest on the floor. In your surprise you stumble back and fall to the ground littered with glass. You cry out as you try to remove the large piece sticking out of your heel before it can get too deep.
A single kick to the center of the door causes the rusty hinges to buckle and break, the door swinging open to reveal Peter’s victorious expression.
“Stay away from me!” you scream, your bloody hand slipping as you try to recover the shotgun.
He takes a cool step over the threshold and looks down at you with a patronizing pout, “Aw little red, what have you done to yourself?”
Those big brown eyes of his, which so easily manipulate the people in town, turn black as his pupils grow. He drinks in the sight of you, his smile growing slowly the longer you sit there and cower on the floor. The shotgun slides from your lap, hitting the floor with a loud clunk as you press your bloody hands over your throbbing foot and try to scoot away.
“Please,” you whimper and he looms over you, his hands tucked in his pockets. “What do you want from me?”
He tilts his head and squats down beside you, allowing you a view of the rest of the group gathering on the porch behind him. Peter tuts at the blood dripping onto the floor and flicks a finger over his shoulder to signal one of the guys behind him.
The two in the front eagerly step closer and await his command, “go find some towels, let’s get her cleaned up,” his eyes meet yours, “not that I mind a little blood.”
You grimace at the malice behind his half smile and flinch when he reaches for your hand, “don’t touch me.”
“Oh, little red,” he sighs, pausing to brush his fingers lightly down your cheek, “we’re here to help you.”
“Help me?” You scoff.
Peter nods to the boys who quickly snag your hands and feet. They ignore your struggles and complaints as they clean and wrap your wounds, pulling out a few more glass chunks as they go.
“Yes,” Peter continues. “All this time out here… on your own. It’s not good for you. You need a new crowd to run with, someone to show you that life still has so much left to offer.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you,” you sneer as his two lackeys finally release you.
“Well, we still want you…,” he smirks and stands with a happy sigh.
A quick snap of his fingers and you are hauled to your feet, wincing at the sting in your heel and the harsh grip of the guys on either side of you. The group parts and two more grab your legs when you try to kick at them as you pass.
You stare up hopelessly at the stars glittering peacefully above you in the purple sky, the remnants of the suns warmth nearly gone as you venture deeper into the woods. It’s the moonlight that keeps the forest floor from complete darkness as they hike along some unknown path until you come to a small clearing with a large flat stone at its center.
Your anxiety mounts as they lay you on the rock. The four of them keep you still, arms and legs spread wide, as two others near with a set of chains.
“No. No. No. No!” You screech as they lock the metal cuffs around your wrists, but leave your legs unbound.
You kick as they release you, but are unable to sit up, the unreasonably large chains weighing you down more than you care to admit. Six of them retreat to form a half circle around the rock by your feet a few yards away, while Peter remains just out of reach above your head.
Your labored breathing fills your ears as you strain to look at Peter. He pulls a long hunting knife from a leather case, the decorative blade glinting in the torchlight, and chuckles at your wide worried eyes.
“You know what just occurred to me… you might have no idea how special you are,” Peter huffs in disbelief, as though legitimately shocked by your confusion.
“Please, don’t do this,” you whisper, your heart hammering abnormally hard, ready to burst as the blade passes close to your neck in his relaxed grip.
“I mean, you aren’t a virgin are you?” He asks skeptically, raising a brow.
You gape dumbly at the question, not knowing what to say, but it’s answer enough for him. He laughs mockingly and stands straight, letting the knife tip twirl into the rock as he looks at the boys surrounding you.
“Well, I’ll try to be gentle with you at first,” he smirks as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “but I can’t promise that they will.”
Your eyes flick fearfully down to the others, practically buzzing in anticipation, “come on, Peter!” “What are we waiting for?” A few of the boys impatience boils over, but a single sharp look from Peter has them all silent once more.
“You’re in for a big surprise, little red,” Peter lilts as he hooks the blade under your shirt. “Shame, I actually do like this top, it’s cute.”
A loud tear fills the clearing as he slices your clothes to pieces, first the shirt and bra, then the pants and undies. You can’t believe this is happening. You knew they were dangerous, knew you needed to stay away, but this is definitely not what you expected to happen when they finally caught you.
You lay there shivering, mostly from fear… but there is something else there too, just beneath the surface, something you’ve never felt before. Your body hums as Peter crawls over you, using his knees to open your thighs so he can kneel between your legs. His shirt and pants are gone, only his loose red boxers remain and you feel his body heat as he hovers over you.
“Time to meet the real you,” Peter whispers breathily, excitement sparkling in his eyes. It’s more than hunger or mere sexual desire.
He wets his lips sensually and you find yourself staring at them in fascination, wondering what it would be like to bite them. You close your eyes in disgust at your own thought as something smooth and warm gently brushes your inner thigh.
“This may hurt a little,” he warns as he uses his fingers to part your lips and push inside of you.
Your body resists, back arching at the pain of him digging deeper and deeper. A unrecognizable sound crawls from your throat, like a growl only more broken and terrifying. You hear quiet murmurs from the crowd watching on, but they don’t sound scared, they sound… eager.
“That’s it,” Peter breaths as he reaches his limit and gives you a second to adjust. “You’re incredible.”
You frown and shake your head, refusing to believe his quiet praise. A tear trickles down your cheek and Peter’s hand grips your chin, turning you to face him.
“Open your eyes,” he demands.
You oblige him and take in his black eyes, overcome with lust. He holds your gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between your own as he pulls back and slams back in. Breaking from his grip, your head flies back as you scream and arch once more, trying to ease the pressure of his cock within you.
He looses all patience as you tug at your bonds, the dull thud of the heavy chain barely moving against the solid stone. He hammers against your pelvis as your shoulders grate along the rough surface, feeding the growing storm raging within you.
Sweat beads along your forehead, body practically scorching to the point you feel as though you may combust. You plead for him to stop, this doesn’t feel right, something is wrong. While the pleasure builds in your core it is met by an equal measure of blinding pain, sparking the sickening urge to tear at your skin.
“Almost there, I can see it in you. Don’t hold it back,” Peter pants into your neck.
You can’t tell if it’s your own blood pulsing in your ears or his as you watch the veins on his neck bulge enticingly, practically glowing red like a beacon just for you. Your jaw slacks and you can’t help but lick up his neck, tasting the salt on his skin. He moans at the sensation, dropping his head to your shoulder as you graze your teeth along his supple flesh.
“Do it,” he urges you. “Bite me.”
The part of you that wants to fight this feeling is silenced once and for all as you sink your teeth into his shoulder and feel his hot blood pool in your mouth. The taste is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before and your eyes widen at the surge of power it gives you.
You release him with a moan and squeeze his cock between your thighs as you come with a long feral howl. His face is euphoric as he follows you quickly, spilling messily over your stomach as he slips out and rolls off of you in exhaustion.
Your moments of coherency slip in and out as the others step forward and take turns pleasuring you. Between the flashes of their twisted expressions you remember more of their tender flesh filling your mouth as you bite and drink deeply. One by one they feed your wild hunger while you fulfill their primal desires.
You don’t know how many of them there are anymore. You don’t know where you are or if any of this is even real. It feels more like a dream as your body builds into an unrestrained frenzy, until the last thing you remember is the snap of a chain before the world goes dark for good.
—
You wake up to the uncomfortable sensation of something sharp poking your side and the bite of the morning chill. Blinking, you look up at the green of the treetops against the pale morning sky. You sit up and remove the stick you were laying on, horror-struck at the sight of your naked body on the forest floor, muddied with dirt and dried blood.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, clamping your hand over your mouth as you spot the two dead bodies, torn to pieces only feet away from you.
It looks like the remnants of a wild animal attack and your stomach churns at the sight before you. You gag and wretch onto the leaves, still in disbelief at what you are seeing. You heave as the tears clog your throat and you try to remember what happened.
“Shhh,” you jump at the soft footsteps behind you. “It’s ok. You did amazing.”
Peter squats down beside you, still shirtless as he pet down your naked skin comfortingly. His eyes are that soft brown, with a sweet smile as he pulls you into a warm embrace. You don’t fight him, his intoxicating scent fills your nose and helps to calm your nerves.
“What happened to them?” You squeak, unable to take your eyes from them over his shoulder.
He tuts as he forces you to look at him, “we all knew the risks. And now the five who survived are stronger for it. And we are all grateful for this gift you’ve given us. We’re going to take care of you now, I promise. You don’t have to be alone anymore, little red.”