Chapter 8: A Tough Decision

Rose woke up to severe pain in the morning. Her thighs and back were sore, but the inside of her body hurt the most. Her skin was covered in sticky patches, and her clit and labia were battered and bruised. Intense memories of the previous night played in her head like a movie. She saw herself having sex with Hickory over and over. Her heart pounded with panic, regret, and sickness. She got up and quickly exited the tent while fully naked, then ran about twenty feet before vomiting in the grass. As soon as there was nothing left, the pain between Rose’s legs caused her to fall to the ground.

She sat and cried as every detailed moment with Hickory replayed for her. Tears rolled down her face like a faucet, knowing that her virginity had been forcefully stripped away. All of her planning and waiting for the perfect guy and moment didn’t mean anything now. Why didn’t she let Elliot have her when she had the chance? He would have gently made love to her, and she could’ve cherished the memory forever.

“You should drink this,” Hickory said from behind.

“Why should I trust you?” Rose asked weakly, still feeling defeated.

“I won’t make excuses for myself. It’s been over a year since I lay with a woman, and I’d never have another chance to be with one so beautiful.”

“I’m only fifteen,” Rose said, trying not to cry more.

“You’re two years a woman,” he said. “Girls come of age at thirteen.”

“I would have helped you orgasm if you just asked,” Rose said, a little anger growing in her voice. “You didn’t have to use magic on me and rape me.”

“What’s done is done,” he said, almost coldly. “You need to drink this,” he said again, placing a cup on the ground beside her. “You’ll almost certainly become pregnant if you don’t.”

Rose sat there for twenty minutes and then drank whatever concoction was in the cup before standing and throwing the cup angrily. Getting dressed and packing the camp made for a miserable start, thanks to Rose’s persistent pain. Every step she took, every time she bent over, or every time she had to lift caused the ache in her womanhood to throb with pain. Several times that day, Rose ran off the path to vomit when her memories became too intense. If only she felt confident enough to travel alone, she would have certainly left Hickory’s company.

The two of them passed through the thicket, then over the mountain terrain with no obstacles. Rose made it a point to remain a dozen steps behind Hickory, as being too near to him made her sick to the stomach. This side of the mountain range was flatter, though it still had sprawling farmlands going in either direction. According to Hickory, they’d only have to make camp one more time before reaching the next town. From there, Rose could supposedly travel by wagon to save a couple of days.

At nightfall, the two of them stopped and began to set up a camp not far from the road. They had the cover of several trees to help conceal them from anyone looking to do harm. Rose mentally laughed at the thought, considering Hickory had done her more harm than anything so far. Once Hickory had set up his tent, Rose moved further away and placed hers. The extra distance probably wouldn’t save her, but it at least made her feel a little better. She even made her own fire and warmed her own food to eat, doing everything she could to avoid Hickory despite his promises that nothing would happen again.

Even as Hickory went to bed, Rose remained seated at her fire. The pain that still remained inside her body fueled her fear of sleeping. She sat there gazing at the flames while thinking about her home in Manhattan. Did her parents miss her? Were the police doing a widespread search to find her? Did her disappearance make national news? If she ever made it home again, how would she explain where she had been? No one would ever believe a story about her journeying through a place called Scarlaria.