Born to Lose Read Online Free Page A

her body. “Ron, please let me go, don’t touch me. I’m sick now, I don’t feel well and … and I’m bleeding.” Bill stood to the side, arms folded, amused. “She got that right,” he quipped, “on the damn rag, but, whatthe hell, I’ve been in worse places.” Bill laughed and turned to Ron. “So, want it? She still ain’t half bad.” Ron rubbed his thumb back and forth across his chin. Bill yawned, as much as telling Kathy her immediate predicament was of little moment to him, but Ron finally said, “Forget it. If she’s bleedin’ I don’t want nothin’ to do with her.” Bill nodded, shrugged again, then told Kathy to get dressed. “And comb your hair, put some lipstick on.”
    Kathy didn’t care what orders came out of Bill’s mouth, she’d comply. Anything to keep the peace, keep him calm until she was released. Bill had the gun and he had drawn a knife, yet she hadn’t been shot or sliced, and now, with Ron’s decision, she would not be raped again. Things could change, she knew, but her thoughts were to provoke no anger. Addressing Bill, Kathy said, “I’d like to comb my hair, but I don’t have my purse. I guess I dropped it on the road when you grabbed me.” Bill was walking away from Kathy when he heard this reply. He stopped, pivoted, stepped toward Kathy, and gave her an odd look. “What did you say?” His tone confused Kathy. Had she said something wrong, somehow made a mistake? “What is it? I’ll comb my hair, I’ll put lipstick on, but my comb and stuff is in my purse. I dropped it on the road … I don’t have it.” Greatly worried, her voice trailed off, now barely audible. “Bill, do you have a comb? Can I use it … I’ll comb my hair.” Ignoring her plea, Bill emphasized each word: “You lost your purse?” Thoroughly flummoxed as to Bill’s meaning, Kathy replied, “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. I can get another one.” She was breathing harder. She moved her eyes to the left and saw Ron standing still, hands in pockets, but clearly paying attention to this exchange, apparently in the dark himself about what the problem was.
    Bill spat out at Kathy, “You dressed? Good, now let’s go.” He motioned to Ron. “Get her! Keep her with you. Follow me to the front of the house.” Bill marched off, with Ron following ten yards behind, clutching Kathy’s wrist. During the walk to the farmhouse, Kathy whispered desperately to Ron. “What is it? What did I do?” Nervous himself, Ron replied, “Just keep walkin’.” As the trio approached the house, the dogs again sounded a ruckus. This so annoyed Bill that he hurled stones at them.
    Once together, Bill announced to Ron, “We got to kill her.” Ron’s eyes widened. Dropping his grip on Kathy’s arm, he held his hands out, palms toward Bill. “Wait a sec, hold up!” Ron began to protest. Not waiting to hear another word, Kathy pushed Ron as hard as she could, then began a dash to escape. Surprised at the shove, Ron stumbled toward Bill, whose eyes stayed with the fleeing girl. He sidestepped Ron and sprang forward.
    Kathy tore across the driveway, arms and legs pumping furiously, headlonginto a rough field, the ground made uneven by clumps and depressions, but inside of fifty yards a tremendous blow across her back sent her facedown into grass and weeds. Seizing Kathy’s right wrist and twisting it up behind her back, Bill forced the frantic Kathy to her feet and marched her across the field back to the farmhouse.
    Keeping torque on Kathy’s arm and glancing at her occasionally, Bill started right in again to Ron. “We got to kill her. She dropped her damn purse in her neighborhood. She got her name and address in there …” Kathy, upright but sagging, listened to her own death