?Bitch!? he shouted again in a shrill voice. He grabbed her hands and pulled her off her feet. The back of her head hit the carpet and for a moment she was dizzy. She blinked her eyes; he was on top of her now. ?Fucking bitch.? He slapped her against the head again. She got a hand loose and scratched at him.
He grabbed her wrist and glared at her. ?You like, bitch, Carlos see you like this.?
He pinned her down with both hands above her head. ?Now you will like even more,? he said and grabbed her nightie at the bosom and jerked. The garment tore.
?Are you going to fuck me good?? she said. ?Because it will be the first time, you cunt.?
He slapped her again and she tasted blood in her mouth.
?You can?t fuck. You are the world?s worst fuck!?
?Shut up, bitch!?
She spat at him, spat blood and saliva on his face and shirt. He grabbed her breast and squeezed until she shrieked in pain. ?You like that, whore? You like that??
?Yes. At least I can feel you now.?
Squeezed again. She screamed.
?Why you drug me? Why? You steal my moneys! Why??
?I drugged you because you are such a shit lover. That?s why.?
?First, I will fuck you. Then we will find the moneys.?
?Help me!? she shouted.
He pressed a hand over her mouth.
?Shut the fuck up.?
She bit the soft part of his palm. He yelled and hit out at her again. She jerked her head away, screaming with all her might. ?Help me, please, help me!?
One of her hands came free; she struggled and punched, scratched and screamed. A man?s voice came from somewhere outside, or down the corridor, she couldn?t be sure. ?What?s going on??
Carlos heard. He bumped her with both hands on her chest. He stood up. He was out of breath. There was a swelling on his cheek.
?I will come back,? he said.
?Promise me you will fuck me good, Carlos. Just promise me that, you shitless cunt.? She lay on the ground, naked, bleeding and gasping. ?Just once.?
?I will kill you,? he said and stumbled towards the door. Opened it. ?You take my moneys. I will kill you.? Then he was gone.
Beyond Plettenberg Bay he asked Griessel: ?Where must you take me??
?I will know when we get to George. They will phone again.?
She examined herself in the mirror before calling the police. She was bleeding. The left side of her face was red. It had begun to swell. There was a cut over her eyes. There were dark red finger marks on her breasts.
It looked perfect.
She took her cell phone and sat down on the couch. She looked up the number she had saved in the phone yesterday. Her fingers worked precisely. She looked down at the phone. She was rock steady.
She dropped her head, trying to feel the pain, the humiliation, the anger, hate and fear. She took a deep breath and let it out tremulously. Only a single tear at first, then another and another. Until she was crying properly. Then she pressed the call button.
It rang seven times. ?South African Police Services, Caledon Square. How can we help you??
The policeman?s phone rang while they were stopped at yet another traffic light in Knysna.
Griessel spoke quietly, swallowing his words, and Thobela could not hear what he said. The conversation lasted less than a minute.
?They want us to keep driving,? he said at last.
?Where to??
?Swellendam.?
?Is that where they are??
?I don?t know.?
?I need to stretch my legs.?
?Get out of town first.?
?Do you think I want to escape, Griessel? Do you think I will run away from this situation??
?I think nothing.?
?They have your daughter because I killed Sangrenegra. It?s my responsibility to fix it.?
?How can you do that??
