Categories > Original > Horror

Head Lights

by Erotic-Vixen 0 reviews

A romantic trip home turns into a nightmare when Mickey is about raped in a small desert diner.

Category: Horror - Rating: R - Genres: Horror - Warnings: [R] - Published: 2009-08-09 - Updated: 2009-08-09 - 1039 words

It was a cool night in a small podunk town in the desert, which was nothing more than an old 50’s diner and a motel whose neon sign flickered in the dark, starry night. A truck pulled into the lot of the diner, next to an old, rusted pickup truck. A young man and a young woman got out. The woman’s camera flashed up at the diner sign before the young man could do much of anything. “I love small towns like this,” she whispered.

He smiled at her as she walked into the diner, the door jingling with the door’s sweep. He followed after her, until he froze in his tracks. He patted his pockets on his pants. His wallet would be helpful if they wanted to eat anything. He opened the truck’s door, just a bit. He felt a small hand on his shoulder, he threw the door open, banging into the truck next to them. He heard the laugh of his girlfriend. “Nice going, Chris.”

He laughed to himself as he grabbed his wallet. “I can’t believe I pulled a Marilyn.”

Marilyn was Chris’ girlfriend’s cousin, though they were opposites on the biggest thing in Mickey’s, Chris’ girlfriend, life. Mickey was fearless, for the most part. It took a lot to scare Mickey. With Marilyn, all it would take was for someone to throw a plastic bag on her.

He wrapped his arms around Mickey and kissed her. “I’m surprised you haven’t given her a heart attack yet,” laughed Chris knowing one of Mickey’s favorite things to do was to scare Marilyn.

They walked into the diner, laughing. They sat down by a window and ordered a late dinner. They had been driving all day and well into the night. Not many people were in the diner, only them and a man who probably drove the rusty pickup truck. Mickey took in her surroundings. The floor was that classic 50’s diner look, the kitchen was stainless steel. The waitresses wore a pink uniform and a juke box sat in the corner, allowing 50’s music to float away from the speakers.

Chris excused himself to the restroom, not far from where they sat. Mickey smiled to herself and began to look at the pictures she had taken on their trip to New Mexico. She smiled a wide smile when she saw a picture she had taken near an abandoned home. The dirt around the dead home was loose and sand like and Chris wrote her a message while she busy inside.

I love you more and your mine Amanda, and no matter what you say you will always be beautiful, smart, and worthy of anything your heart desires.

That was picture worthy right there. Mickey felt a cool sensation on the back of her small, pale hand. She looked up and about screamed. Her breath hitched fast in her slender throat and her eyes bugged. A tall, broad shouldered man was sitting across from her, pushing a tall milkshake towards her.

“What’s a purdy thing like yourself doin’ sittin’ all alone like this?” he asked, his voice carrying a heavy southern accent.

“I’m...l-looking at some p-p-pictures I took,” stuttered Mickey. “My boyfriend is in the bathroom.”

Chris meanwhile stood by the sink, his cellphone up to his ear. He studied his face in the mirror. He sighed as he heard the sound of his friend’s voice. “Hey Ford.” His voice was calm, yet nervous. He took a big breath as Michael Ford talked,

“Have you done it yet, man?”

“I couldn’t find a right time,” sighed Chris.

“Did you guys not pass any abandoned buildings? I thought Mickey said Arizona was crawling with them?” said Michael. “And what happened to proposing in that house in Yermo?”

“It has to be perfect,” said Chris.

“She loves you and she loves that house,” hummed Michael. “What is not perfect?”

“I dunno, man,” sighed Chris, looking away from his reflection in the mirror.

“You could propose during a po-” began Michael but Chris’ ears caught something else. Chris could hear Mickey’s screams coming from the booth. He dropped his cellphone into the cold, white sink and ran out of the bathroom. He saw the man from the pick-up truck holding Mickey down in his lap. His greasy hand was up her shirt, feeling her up. Between Mickey’s legs, the man had let his erect penis out. Chris knew her pants were undone, though his penis blocked his view. The cooks and waitresses seemed to tense up at what was happening at booth two.

Chris gasped and marched over to his table. The man smirked and gave off a chuckle Chris was hoping to only hear in horror movies. The man took out a knife and held it’s shiny blade at Mickey’s throat, pushing her head back. “You come one step further, she will die.”

“Wha-what do you want?” whimpered Mickey.

The man breathed into Mickey’s ear, “to fuck you so bad, you bleed all over my cock, to shove it down your wet throat until you choke.”

His tongue snaked into Mickey’s ear. His hot breath made Mickey’s small shoulder twitch. She could feel the stubble on his chin rub against her jaw line. She felt a sudden stop and his tongue fall onto her jaw line. The knife was dropped, slicing into the tip of the man’s penis. Not a single scream. Everyone seemed to relax. Mickey climbed out of the man’s lap and collapsed in Chris’ arms.

Chris’ brown eyes looked down at the knife that stuck out of the man’s throat as the man slid to the floor. He steadied Mickey in her boots and helped her out the door. He unlocked her door to the truck and helped her to sit and get her seat belt on. Once she was seated, Chris checked her body for any marks the man might have left on her. “Are you okay, hun?” he asked, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I want to go home,” she managed to choke out. Chris nodded and closed her door.
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