Twisted Agreements: A Dark Romance by Shay Carrot

Author:Shay Carrot [Carrot, Shay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Chloé

Getting out of line 13 often is a nightmare. It’s just as difficult getting out of there as it is getting into a stadium. People are awfully slow, stomp on each other, and there are always some people in a rush trying to somehow sneak their way out in order not to miss the next train.

Those people usually upset me. But tonight, they infuriate me. I can still feel Rayan’s finger getting into my orifice, burning the walls of my anus. This unwanted penetration in public has turned me upside down. But I won’t let it bring me down. All I can do for now is run just like the rest of the people around me, even though I’m wearing heels. My body is at stake here, because this dickhead thought it was okay to make it his without asking me first.

Once again, he imposed his astounding abuse and deviances on me. Right in the middle of the train! He lifted up my skirt, not caring about my privacy or even me, as a human being!

I boil with anger and push everyone out of my way, determined to catch my train. I hope I can lose Rayan and the other two. They’ve had their fun, but it ends now. GAME OVER.

I turn around as I run down the stairs to check I’m not being followed. Looks like I’m not, but I won’t slow down. I keep on racing through the dark tunnels of the Parisian metro.

“Hello, excuse me?”

A woman stops me right in my tracks. A hitchhiking backpack on her back, she seems lost. She’s holding a map of the Parisian metro, a real web of nonsense. We all have smartphones with unlimited package, so why bother with maps? You just download the app and then it shows you the way. But there always are freaking people against the very convenient advanced technology…

It isn’t the real Chloé on the inside, complaining about this lost woman. But right now, I’m being chased down by three very unscrupulous men, and one of them is a freaking exhibitionist, for fuck’s sake. And here she is, stopping me in my tracks to ask for directions. Why me? It’d seem like someone wants me to go down and be dragged into the darkness.

“Yes?” I say, trying to be polite despite the situation.

None of this is her fault, after all.

“I’m at the Saint-Lazare station, right?”

I want to roll my eyes. My suppressed sigh is dying to get out. Her French is flawless, she’s holding a map, so I guess she can read. So why would she ask such a dumb question?! Saint-Lazare is written all over the walls, for God’s sake!

I nod as I see my train getting here.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’d like to go to the Lyon station. Should I take this train?”

Yes, the stops are indicated as well…

“Yes.”

And I leave her standing here without looking back, remorseless. I’m aware my behavior won’t help the provincials (yes, the whole country outside of Paris and its suburb is a province to us) have a better opinion of Parisian people, but I couldn’t care less.

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