The staccato rumble of Tucker's Harley brought Elowyn to her feet. Her hands trembled, her long, slim fingers clenched so tightly that half moons of blood appeared on her palms where her nails gouged them. She knew from the way he sped into the dirt driveway, sliding to a stop in front of their battered trailer, that he had been drinking again. Oh, God, he's home earlier than usual. He's going to know! Oh, God! she thought.

She tried to pat her long, golden hair into place, but her shaking hands only seemed to send it flying in further disarray. Maybe he hasn't had that much to drink tonight, she thought hopefully. He's really not so bad when he hasn't.

"Elly! Get the hell out here, bitch!"

Tears flooded her eyes and left their salty trails down her cheeks as she stumbled forward, her feet seeming to stick to the worn carpet. She cautiously approached Tucker, his 6-foot-2 frame filling the sagging doorway, silhouetted against the dying sun.

A huge hand reached out to roughly grab the front of her thin cotton sundress. She could feel the neck of the dainty garment tear as he pulled her toward him. She turned her face away from the stink of whiskey and cigarettes on his breath, her stomach turning with revulsion.

"Just where the fuck do you think you're going, huh?" He wrapped a big fist in the soft saffron strands of hair that hung nearly to her waist and drug her toward the stained sofa near the front windows. There, in the last rays of the setting sun, lay her scuffed old suitcase, bulging at the seams with the meager collection of belongings she had to show for her five years as Mrs. Tucker Morgan. Without releasing his grip on her hair, he spun her around and pushed her roughly to her knees.

"No, Tucker. Not this time," she said, looking up into his dark, bloodshot eyes.

"The hell you won't, bitch!" he spat. He drew back his free hand and struck her across the face. She reeled from the blow, his hold on her hair the only thing that kept her from falling. Stars appeared in her vision and she gently touched her cheek, her fingers coming away stained by a trickle of blood that ran from the corner of her full lips.

Tucker reached down and unzipped his stained jeans, allowing them to fall to the floor around his ankles.

Elowyn looked up, her eyes pleading, but he just drew his hand back again. Her tears ran freely, washing the blood from the corner of her lips as she took his swollen member into her mouth, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She gagged momentarily when he pulled her forward, the length of his throbbing manhood sliding into her throat. She could taste the traces of another woman on his flesh, but dared not stop or complain. She ran her tongue down the length of his shaft the way he liked it, hoping to put a quick end to the act that had begun as pleasure, but become torture for her. He staggered drunkenly, grunting like a pig as he filled her mouth with his hot, salty seed.

"Thanks fer nothin' bitch," he mumbled as he ripped her torn sundress from her body. He wiped the sweat from his face with the wisps of flowered cotton, then threw it aside. He pulled up his pants and zipped them, buckling his wide leather belt.

"Remember what I told you, my sweet little Ellie?" he smirked. "You ever try to leave me, I'll break your pretty little neck, and you know I'll do it." Elowyn clutched the remnants of the dress to her breasts as Tucker staggered off to bed.

The hours before dawn found Elowyn curled up on the stained sofa, her eyes burning and red rimmed from crying. She walked softly to the bathroom, making sure that Tucker had left again before sighing with relief. She made a pot of coffee and was sitting at the table, a steaming cup cradled in her slim fingers, when the phone rang.

"Trouble Elowyn?" The voice was dry as parchment and barely audible, even to Elowyn, her ear pressed tightly to the receiver.

"No, Grandma. Everything's OK."

"You're lying to me, Elowyn. You should know by now that you cannot lie to me successfully."

"I…uh…" Elowyn stammered, her fingers touching her lips. "I didn't mean to lie, it’s just that he…he isn't usually like this. I mean he wasn't before."

The voice came through the phone again, at once soothing and intimidating. "You know what you must do child."

"No, Grandma, I can't. I can't do it no matter what. I've thought about it, but it just isn't in me as it is in you and mother."

"Yes, it is, child, but no matter. I will not see you die at his hands."

"I'll call the police, have him arrested."

"And when he is released, child?"

Elowyn sat in silence, the coffee growing cold before her. He hadn't always been this way. When she first met Tucker Morgan, he had been her ideal man. A bad boy, but good to her, he had known how to use just the right amount of muscle to get what he wanted. He had taken her the way she had always dreamed of being taken. He had used her for his pleasure, but in doing so had brought her to the pinnacle of her own pleasure as well. She still remembered the electric intensity of her orgasms before her world was ravaged by his addiction to speed and whiskey. Now she shrank from the touch that had once sent waves of ecstasy through her body and lured her so many miles away from her ancestral home. Even his beloved Harley was now just a shadow of itself. Paint faded, chrome covered with a fine patina of rust, it sat neglected like a jilted lover.

"Are you there child?"

"Yes, Grandma, I'm here."

"Take your leave of him child. Do not fear."

"I…yes, Grandma. I know it is for the best."

Elowyn emptied her cup into the sink and flushed the remnants of cold coffee from the cup, setting it on the drain board. She picked up her suitcase from behind the sofa, and, after a last look around, opened the door and stepped through. She had just stepped onto the sagging porch when Tucker staggered around the corner of the trailer.

"Caught ya', didn't I?" he snarled.

The suitcase slipped from her fingers as he took the steps in one bound and seized her by the throat. He lifted her off her feet and threw her back through the doorway, where she landed on the stained carpet. She heard the door slam shut behind him as though in a dream. He lowered his pants and dropped to his knees between her spread legs, pulling her dress over her head. He ripped her bright blue nylon panties off and entered her in one quick thrust. She screamed as he forced his way inside her. He balled up her panties and stuffed them forcibly between her lips and teeth to silence her. She thrashed beneath him, trying in vain to dislodge him, but her efforts only spurred him on. He suddenly pulled out of her and rolled her onto her stomach. Her eyes grew wide with fear as he pressed the head of his throbbing member against the tight, puckered ring of her anus. She tried to scream as he pushed slowly into her clenching orifice, but the panties prevented the scream from escaping her lips. The pain was so intense she almost passed out, but then he stopped, his cock half way inside her.

"Wouldn't want you to miss the fun, now would we?” he laughed. When she started to struggle once more, he resumed his entry into her depths until his member was buried inside her. She sobbed quietly, her tears soaking into the carpet as he began to thrust violently in and out, each thrust bringing a new wave of agony shooting through her tortured body.

After what seemed to Elowyn like hours, she felt him explode inside of her, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself. He rose and walked to the bedroom as Elowyn lay spent on the dirty carpet, his seed leaking out of her, adding new stains to old. He returned with a Smith & Wesson snub-nosed .38 revolver clenched in his right hand.

"Told ya' I'd kill ya' bitch," he snarled, the pistol held loosely at his side. "Now I'm gonna."

As he raised the pistol, glass from the front window exploded inward, the gleaming, razor-edged shards spraying across the room as a black shadow lunged toward Tucker. A huge black mastiff caught Tucker in the chest with its full weight, knocking him off his feet, the gun falling to the floor with a muted thud. Fangs gleaming, the snarling beast stood over him, all the fury of hell glowing in its red, glowing eyes. Elowyn could smell the stench of sulfur in the air and the gigantic animal paused, as if savoring the moment, staring down in triumph at the terrified Tucker.

Tucker groped frantically around him for the pistol that had flown from his hand when the beast struck him. Before his fingers could close on the grip, the dog leaped, sinking its fangs into his throat, stifling the scream that tried to escape his lips. Blood flew from the hideous wounds the slashing fangs opened and pink, frothy saliva dripped from the animal's muzzle. When its bloody carnage was finished, it turned, its crimson eyes seeming to search Elowyn's soul. As quickly as it had appeared, the creature leapt through the broken window, its black visage becoming one with the pre-dawn blackness.

"It must have been a nightmare for you, Mrs. Morgan. Are you sure you'll be alright?" Detective Calloway asked. The coroner had already removed the mangled corpse of Tucker Morgan and secured the evidence left behind from the attack. "Strange that we didn't find any tracks outside the window. Just a few tufts of hair on the edge of the shattered glass, and the bloody paw prints."

"That is strange, but don't worry, I'll be fine, Detective Calloway," she assured him, wiping the Harley's gleaming chrome with a soft towel.

"Beautiful motorcycle," Calloway said, looking the Harley over with a critical eye. "Was it your husband’s?"

"Yes, it was," she replied. "I'll be riding it home. I'm leaving first thing in the morning to rejoin my family. My grandmother is expecting me."

"Oh?" Calloway asked. "Does she live out of town?"

"Oh, yes, detective." She gave him a sad smile as the towel slid over the glowing black surface of the Harley's tanks. "I'm from Salem, Massachusetts. My family has lived there for centuries."