"Turn around," he said. "Lean up against the side of the car."

I started to shake from fear. "No… oh God… no… no…"

I still didn't even know what he was going to do, but I didn't like the sound of it.

"Do what I said," he replied, sounding tired, like he was getting annoyed at me for "making" him do all this stuff that he really didn't want to do.

The bastard.

He stood there, arms still crossed, watching me… waiting… knowing that in the end, I would do anything he told me to do. I would do it because I sincerely believed that to go against him would be much much worse than anything he could try to make me do.

He had a temper that was absolutely uncontrollable, and once he lost it, there was no way to predict what he would do.

The fastest way to make him lose his temper was to not give him what he wanted, no matter how unrealistic or unfair it was. Because then, he'd just go berserk and the motherfucker was like a wounded bull elephant when that happened, and since no one that I knew in town, least of all me, had an elephant gun, it was always better to just let him have his way.

So I turned around.

I leaned against the car.

The flat of my palms pressed against the cold metal of his car. I felt the sandy shoulder of the road with my bare feet, and the cool evening breeze wafting over my naked skin.

I was shivering, but not just from the chill. I was scared. More scared than I'd ever been in my life.

Then, I heard him pulling his belt off.

I started to cry even harder. "Oh… Johnny," I sobbed. "Don't… please… don't…"

"You just stay right where you are, Junella… don't you fucking move a muscle. You hold right there, until I tell you to move."

I heard the buckle of his belt jingling. I didn't know what he was doing with it, but I had a pretty good idea.