panties. “How about you let me fuck your pussy then? I’ll do all the work.” He pushed his fingertips between her folds through the fabric. Dry fingers on dry underwear and thrust in dry pussy.
Amaya tried to push him away and escape his fingers. “Fuck you, bitch.”
Instead of releasing her, his fingertips dug in forcefully and he waited until she stopped struggling. “Wait ‘til it hits, baby,” he said. “You’re gonna want this dick in your little teen pussy. I swear.” He jabbed at her clit through her underwear. “Fuckin’ whore.”
She hissed as his fingers withdrew and glared at him. “You better calm down,” she warned, more aggravated than terrified. Rape was a constant risk, and it was far from the first time she’d had to deal with these types of assholes. She reached for her keys with the vial of pepper spray attached. “I will spray you.”
“Alright, alright,” he placated her with his hands up. “My bad, baby girl. I can wait.” He smiled lecherously.
Amaya didn’t feel right. The meth should be bringing her up, not down, but Amaya was devoid of her typical rush. Instead, her head felt light and her thoughts slow and disjointed. It wasn’t a bad feeling, if anything, a sense of calm and peace covered her like a blanket. She blinked hard, searching for the trail of her thoughts, trying to catch them as they floated away.
“What?” she slurred. “What’dya do?”
“Nothing, baby. Don’t you worry.” He leaned into her space again, easily pushing away her hand with the pepper spray until he had her reclined in the front seat of his Caprice. “We’re gonna have a little fun, that’s all.” A bright light blinded Amaya. “Smile for the camera, sweetheart.” Minutes or hours passed, she couldn’t be sure. Pain flared between her legs and fire raced down her legs. “Don’t need these, do you?”
“Fu-fuckyou.” She winced, unable to discern what the hell he was doing. She heard the distinct sound of his camera clicking. Beneath the floating surface of her consciousness, a fount of humiliation and rage began to surge to the forefront. As he brought her knees toward her chest, she channeled her fury and kicked wildly. “Ayudame!” she shouted, shocked to learn she was in tears. It wasn’t like her to cry. “Help me! Get the fuck off me! Help! Help!”
He punched the left side of her face with a closed fist, and she wailed. His weight fell heavy upon her, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“Shhh,” he growled and pulled a knife from his back pocket. He pressed it to her lips. “Stuck up little whore, aren’t you? Think you’re too good or something?” The edge of the blade split her sensitive flesh and he took sadistic delight in Amaya’s genuine horror and screams. He sliced diagonally across her face. “Let’s see how picky you are when you aren’t so pretty.”
“Papa,” she cried.
“You want your daddy, baby?” His fetid breath assaulted her nose as he spoke and sucked at her bloodied lips. “I’ll be your daddy.”
She didn’t think; she reacted. Her teeth sank deep into the muscle of his tongue and retained a squirming glob of it as he screamed and pulled away from her gory mouth.
The shock gave her a brief respite, time enough to spit out the foreign tissue and clear some of the blood clogging her throat. He was on her again soon enough, this time with his bare hands wrapped around her throat. His blood and hers blinded her. His inhuman screams reverberated in her skull to the rapid beat of her pulse. Amaya felt certain her death was imminent. If there was comfort to be had it was in the idea of seeing her parents again—if she made it to Heaven. Amaya laughed hysterically. It was fitting in a way—murdered like her father, and like her mother. They were a family born to die.
In her last moments, she heard her father, “We all die, mija.”
Her mother had a rebuttal, “No, mi amor. You need to live.”
She missed them. She wanted to go to them.
All at once, liquid warmth cascaded over her. The fingers squeezing the life out of her fell away and she gasped, inhaling air and copper. Someone was in the car with them, an angel. She spoke to Amaya in Spanish, “I have you. You’re going to be okay. I’m here.”
Amaya had never seen an angel, and it brought her to tears. She couldn’t see the angel’s face in the darkness, blinded by the