Broken Read Online Free Page B

customers or because word of mouth had told them she was the best. She had hoped Labor Day weekend would bring the last-minute college crowd.
    She was about to close for the day when the ding at the door made her jump. The prospect of a patron excited her, but when she saw her potential customers, she became apprehensive. Five young skin-heads entered.
    "May I help you?" she asked from behind the service counter.
    "Yeah," said one of the young men. "We'd all like to get 'MOM' tattooed on our arms."
    "Really?" asked Neely with a furrowed brow.
    "Yes," replied the boy whose face looked as if he never needed to shave and his eyes of palest blue made him appear angelic.
    "That's a hundred fifty dollars per person. I'd like to see the money up front."
    "Not a problem." Each young man pulled out three new, crisp fifty-dollar bills.
    Although the rest of the lot looked rougher than the one doing the talking, the thought of seven hundred fifty dollars in a couple of hours at the most brought Neely around the counter toward the chair where she would ink a design as simple as they were requesting. "Did you have any particular style in mind? And I'll need to see some I.D. The law tells me I have to make sure you're all old enough to get tattoos."
    "Yeah," said the apparent leader of the group as he grabbed Neely's wrist. When she started to scream, he belted her in the mouth. One of the other members of the group locked the dead bolt while another flicked off the neon "OPEN" sign and a third turned off the lights.
    Hardly more than a boy, the skin-head, who held Neely firmly, and one of the others dragged her behind the counter. Every time she tried to scream, one of them punched her. They pinned her hands and feet. One of them straddled her and tore off her jeans and panties. He ripped off her blouse and bra.
    Neely struggled fiercely. The man pressed his hand to her throat and snarled in a voice that had barely changed, "Stop fighting, bitch! Just shut up and enjoy your last fuck!"
    Surgical gloves? Did they have those on when they came in? How did I not notice? Neely's mind raced. The maniac is actually putting on a condom. Then, he was inside her. He finished and traded places with another. Five times, over and over, they violated her . Surely, they're done . Then, the kicking started.
    Drifting to semi-consciousness, she heard glass shatter and paper ripping. I don't dare move. Maybe they'll leave ran through her mind.
    The young voice said in a panicky way, "What are you doing?"
    A more mature voice replied, "You're supposed to kill the bitch."
    "She's dead. I strangled her."
    Hold your breath, girl. The boy knows he didn't kill me. He doesn't want to.
    "Then she won't feel this, but I'm making sure she's dead." An evil laugh bubbled out of the older man. "Not the first time."
    Suddenly, something plunged inside her. The ripping, sawing, burning was excruciating. Not sure if the temperature dropped or if she were dying, she became cold.
    Neely knew no more.
     

    Sometime later, Neely opened her eyes. Everything hurt. She could hardly move, and she could still feel hands around her throat and strangely smell the faint cologne the boy had worn. Dark Obsession. If she had not hurt, she would have snorted at the irony.
    She lay in something wet. My own blood . Rolling her head to the side, she saw the old-fashioned princess phone. Dragging herself toward it, she hung up and then lifted the receiver and dialed 9-1-1.
    The operator answered, "Nine-one-one. State your emergency."
    Neely barely whispered, "Help me."
    "Ma'am, can you tell me where you are?"
    "Timeless Tattoos."
    "Ma'am, are you injured?"
    "Yes."
    "Ma'am, I'm tracing your call. Help is on the way."
     

    Fifteen minutes later, fire rescue and police crashed through the door. The first cop inside took in the situation. The tattoo equipment strewn all over the floor. Glass display cases shattered and the catalogues ripped apart. He gave a nod at the sound of groaning.
    The