Corey felt a scream strangle in his throat – choking him. Hands grasped ceaselessly at his body, nails tearing into his skin.
He felt his clothing torn from him, his back exposed to the crisp night air.
The hands touched him – exploring the private places of his body. He felt his muscles strain as the hands pressed him – opening him, tearing him apart. His spine rang with a jolt of pain.
His fingernails bent and broke as he pushed them into the dark asphalt – tiny rocks gauging his skin like knives. His tears and breath – heavy, hot, wet – covered his stinging hands as he bowed his head to the earth.
He tried not to hear the sounds.
The grunts of the men around him.
The sickening, wet sound of slick flesh against flesh.
The faint, damp splatter of his own blood.
The evil laughter that reverberated in his skull.
Hot liquid filled his consciousness and his scream broke free.
In his ears, his voice sounded like the crying of a lamb as a wolf tore chunks out of its flesh.