Tara revisited the neighborhood several times after that initial encounter, lingering until she had familiarized herself with her prey's routine, committing every detail to memory. She also conducted extensive online research on the family, learning their names and the places they frequented.

But what mattered most was that his name was Ethan, and he was her first target.

Today, Tara was going to strike. So, she took her time getting ready. She selected the same outfit she wore on the evening of her abduction, relieved that she hadn't disposed of it.

Beige cargo pants, an oversized university hoodie, Converse sneakers, and her tote bag.

She asked for it. Look at what she was wearing. She deserved it. Most assault victims suffered through such insensitive comments. Yet, as Tara stared at herself in the mirror, she didn't know how this shabby attire qualified her as a rape candidate.

A strange numbness overtook her limbs before she headed out. The fog over her mind only lifted when she stopped outside the Barlowes' mansion. One of the guards approached her.

"Can I help you miss?"

She swallowed, then smiled. "Yes, please. I need to talk to Ethan. Tell him his fiancée is looking for him."

The old man frowned but refrained from questioning her further. He seemed used to Ethan's rodeos.

One, two, three...forty heartbeats passed before he appeared.

Ethan's gaze darted around frantically, searching for the source of the absurd claim. Then, they widened when it settled on her standing by the entrance. In a flash, he was in front of her, his body hunched over and face pallid.

A colorful tray of insults flashed through Tara's mind as she stuck her chin out, defiance burning in her eyes. She crossed her arms, in an attempt to hide her trembling hands, and squared her shoulders.

Ethan quickly dismissed the guard before forcefully grabbing her elbow. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Tara nearly emptied what little she had for breakfast when he touched her. She jerked her arm away, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Why? I'm here to meet your parents, of course." Her voice rose slightly at the end, and she observed his expression pale as he glanced behind him.

Ethan leaned in closer, and she resisted the urge to recoil. Tara refused to display any hint of weakness.

"C'mon, uh," he faltered, unsure how to address her. How do you, after all, address someone you raped?

"So, Ethan, are you going to stand there gaping like a fish out of water or are you going to lead the way?"

Tara was teasing him, flaunting the knowledge she possessed that he was ignorant of. He was uneasy, and most definitely wondering how much she knew about him, if she confided in anyone else, if she was acting alone, or if she'd contacted the authorities.

"Look," he growled, trying to appear threatening. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you need to leave. Now."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere until I meet your lovely folks. It's about time we had a heart-to-heart, don't you think?"

"They're not here." They were. She ensured they were present at the house in case this didn't go as planned. "Just go back to whatever hole you crawled out of."

"Funny, that's what I used to think about you." Tara shrugged, unable to fathom where her boldness was coming from, but she wasn't about to let it falter. "But here we are, face to face."

"Let's meet some other time."

"I'm only free now."

"I'm not."

"You should be," she spoke louder. "Or, and I'm being nice here, you and I can have a civilized conversation between two adults. What do you think, my dear fiancé?"

After shooting a quick look at the house, Ethan glared at her, hoping to intimidate her into leaving. But, she neither looked away nor moved. He sighed. "Fine, let's talk. But," he hesitated, "not here."

Tara hummed, nodding. "Sure. Lead the way."

Ethan rushed to the garage, and she waited outside until a black car, the same as that day, stopped before her. Tara bristled, her whole body nearly convulsing at the sight. He lowered the window, telling her to get in. She did, numbly watching him speed away from the mansion.

Thousands of needles dug into her skin, and her vision grew blurry. Blinking fast, she refocused on the road, noticing they were heading toward the beach.

"How about we go back to...you know where?"

"Hm?" He paused, then his lips lifted into a wide grin. "Yeah, sure!"

After a while, Tara suggested in a gentle tone, "Can you get us something to drink while we talk?"

He nodded quickly, slowing outside a shop. When he came back, she glanced at her bag, clutching it tighter until they reached the secluded villa.

The gate whined, piercing through her heart, and her throat grew drier with every passing second. He led them in, his hand nauseatingly resting on the small of her back.

The house stood like a silent sentinel, its cracked driveway and withering garden adding to its neglected appearance. The inside was different, however, and livelier, yet a faint musty scent still lingered in the air. Dust danced in the dim light filtering through the curtains, casting eerie shadows across the worn furniture and faded wallpaper.

They sat down.

The silence was oppressive, broken only when she asked for cups. Once he left, Tara's eyes wandered around the living room. It was strewn with empty liquor bottles and discarded clothing. She didn't even want to think who they might belong to.

Ethan returned, sitting too close to her. He poured them two glasses of wine, holding one before her until she took it. Tara sunk back, pretending to sip and listen to his nonsensical rants. She kept a hand inside her bag, and her face blank, recoiling inwardly when his thigh brushed hers a few times in an attempt to invade her personal space further. Then, He went on about how sorry he was, promising to take full responsibility for what happened even if he had to marry her. 

He was lying, and they both knew it. But, she knew the lengths he'd go to just to get laid. She'd witnessed it firsthand, after all.

"Why do you make it sound like you're doing me a favor? Like marrying you would solve anything?" Tara tilted her head, lifting a brow. "Why are assuming that's what I'm after?"

Ethan looked at her, shock plastered across his face. Then, something predatory flashed in his eyes, and he leaned closer, his breath fanning her cheek. "You want me, don't you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with arrogance and entitlement. "Isn't that why you suggested we go back here? You liked it," he stated confidently and smirked, skimming her jaw with his nose. "I knew you were a whore the moment I saw you. Three days of fucking weren't enough for you, yeah? You want mo-"

Flesh met flesh, her palm and his cheek both stinging from the force of the impact.

Ethan blinked in surprise, slowly turning her way, and her grip tightened.

"W-what the fuck?" He snarled, moving to grab her. "How dare-"

Tara swiftly pulled out the pepper spray and drenched his eyes with it. Ethan howled in pain, covering his face. But, she didn't stop until the bottle was almost empty. Then, she pushed him on the floor, rejoicing in his wails and flailing. He swore and spewed silly threats, flopping around like a fish out of water.

Kneeling beside him, Tara brushed his cheek. Skin red, eyes watering, and nose running. He was a sight to behold. She grinned, straddling him to ensure he wouldn't get away from her. "What were you saying?"

Ethan opened his mouth, blindly reaching for her. "Fuck you, bit-"

A soaked tissue was pressed to his nose, cutting him off. He struggled, nearly knocking her off of him but she held on, pinning one arm down. His free hand caught her hoodie, but it was too late as the medicine's effect numbed his senses. His limbs landed on the carpet with a thud as darkness embraced him.

Tara looked down at his limp form, a predator seizing up its prey. "You thought you were the hunter, but hunters don't charge in like stupid bulls, asshole."

Word count: 1395. 

Total word count: 11037.

Oh, my. You go, girl!