Trigger warning: Sexual assault is implied but not described in the following story. All characters are 18+.
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If you asked Becca to define her outlook on life, she'd tell you that on even days, she was Pagan with Goth tendencies, and on odd days, she was Goth with Pagan tendencies.
Either way, she wore lots of black.
Autumn had taken hold at the school. Brisk winds turned fallen leaves into vortices of swirling color, and the sugar maples on Alumni Drive had exploded into a rather aggressive red. Nights were crisp and cold, and it was rumored that Maintenance might even turn the heat on in the dorms soon.
Becca adored autumn. She liked to spend the couple of weeks before Samhain--Halloween to the straights--taking walks through the woods, communing with the Goddess and quietly meditating.
So what in the triple moon fuck was she doing at a frat party surrounded by Chads and Stacys? Oh yeah. Jordan. Her roommate had begged her to come with, then proceeded to disappear. Now Becca was stuck in the queue for the john, listening to some Sorority Barbie complain to her carbon copies that none of the baristas here knew how to make a proper half-caf-double-shot-twist of lime-eye-of-newt-whatevertheshit.
She left the bathroom and was heading to the front door when a boy stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"Hey. I haven't seen you before. Who are you?" he asked.
He was short and squat, a wrestler's physique, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a 10,000-watt smile that he probably thought was charming. He wore a sweatshirt with the school mascot on it (go, Owls!), gray gym shorts, and loafers without socks. His ball cap was turned around on his head, and a plastic red cup full of beer was in his hand. If you ordered a Bro from Central Casting, this is who they would send.
"Becca." She pulled her arm away.
"Hi, Becca. I'm Andy, the Rush Chair. Are you here by yourself?"
"I came with my roommate."
"Where is she?"
"Gaia only knows."
"Who?"
"It's not important."
"Okay. What can I get you to drink?"
"Nothing, thank you. I was just leaving."
"This early? Come on. One drink. What'll it be?"
"Do you have any sparkling mineral water?" This was her sure-fire exit line, especially with frats.
Andy grinned and called out across the room. "Yo, Jimbo! A Topo Chico for the lady!"
"Why in the name of Neptune do you have sparkling mineral water?" she asked in astonishment as a good-looking boy walked up and handed her a cold bottle. She checked the seal with the reflexes of a young woman alone among strangers.
" `Cause dumbass here thought it was tequila and bought a shitload," the boy, presumably Jimbo, explained, jerking a thumb at Andy. He handed Becca a bottle opener.
"Your mom thought it was tequila," Andy said, drinking his beer.
In a snare of her own making, Becca could hardly refuse. The cap popped off with a bright hiss and she took a drink then sat up with a groan. She had a splitting headache that throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Her throat was dry, and the sunlight blasting through the window seared her eyes.
Confusion.
She was also naked.
Panic.
She stood up carefully and looked around the bedroom. A desk against one wall had a bottle capper propped on it.
Dread.
No sooner had that registered than she heard footsteps approaching. She ducked into the bathroom and locked the door.
Flight.
Voices. Andy and someone else.
"Dude," Andy said. "Did you get to that sweet tail I had in here last night?"
"Yeah, bro. I had her after Jimbo and Scott double-teamed her. She was all kinds of friendly. Did you tag that whore in Scott's room?"
"Nah. I had to break up that fight and missed out. She good?"
"Dude. She could not get enough. Her titties were too small, but she loved that doggy style. I tore that ass up! Arf! Arf! Arf!" They laughed.
"Yo, Andy! Tony!" a voice called from another part of the house, "You fucking each other in there, or are we leaving?"
"Fucking your mom, bitch!" Tony shouted back.
"There they are," Andy said. There was a jingle of keys, and they left the room, still comparing "their girls."
Mother. Fucking. Fury.
A week later, on Samhain, Becca was in the woods, deep enough that it was unlikely she'd be disturbed. She brushed away dead leaves and twigs until she had a clearing big enough to sit in. From her pack, she produced a spray bottle filled with purified water and gently misted the area to consecrate it. She knew some practitioners who used a silver ewer or elaborately decorated goblet for this, but she was a practical girl. She proved this again by pulling a hinged box out of the pack. It was the size of one of those folding backgammon boards, but much plainer. She flipped the latches and opened it to reveal a pentacle burned into the wood. The little box also held some tea lights, a small knife, a bag of salt, and other odds and bobs she found useful. She called it her Pop-up Pagan Pal (which horrified the more conservative Elders in her Circle).
She oriented the pentacle with the help of a compass, placed and lit the tealights, then sat quietly, trying to clear her mind. When she felt she was in the right headspace, she pulled a gallon freezer bag from the pack. Before she'd fled the frat house, she'd gathered a few items from Andy's room. These were placed onto the points of the pentacle, and she spoke of each one as she did so.
A smelly sock. "Will informs effort; effort produces sweat. With this icon, I exploit your will." A cigarette butt. "Saliva is from the mouth, the font of speech. With this icon, I exploit your words." A bloody band-aid: "The blood is of the body. With this icon, I exploit your body." A few hairs: "The head contains our thoughts. With this icon, I exploit your thoughts." A used condom. "Semen is the seed of birth. With this icon, I exploit your rebirth."
Just as it reached midnight, she cut her thumb and marked each of the items. There was a bright green flash, and when the spots had cleared from Becca's vision, the altar was empty. Miles away, the tiny drop of blood she'd left under Andy's bed pulsed once with the same green light. It was active.
And waiting.
To be continued.
Author's note: Hello, readers! I split this into two parts because it was getting long. I promise, Andy gets what he deserves in part 2. If you enjoyed this story, let me know! I love hearing from readers. shannon.christophe@yahoo.com