Investigate that sound

“Son of a cock chugging Bitch!” John muttered to himself. He stood up and wrestled with his rigid member. With more than a little effort he was able to stuff the relentless erection into his jeans, but the pants where not designed with erections of this caliber, nor of such abnormally sustained intensity, in mind. His dick was killing him, straining against the fabric, as he left the bathroom.

He began listening for that horrible sound he had heard earlier. Where had that screech come from?

“You Whore!” screamed on of the girls from the bathroom. Unable to imagine Karen angry enough to sound like that, John knew it had to be Rachel. ‘God, but what could that mouse of a girl have done to piss Rachel off so bad,’ John gave in silent orison. He hurried, now realizing the screams were coming from the bathroom where you had left the girls. The door was locked but he could hear **** please for help came from the room. He had to get in and save Karen.

“Help Me! Help! God! Help Me!”

Without thinking further he kicked the door the heavy, hardwood, why did the Summers have to own an old house full of expense oak doors, door. He attacked the door again and again. “John?!... John Help Me! Ahhhh!” she cried in pain as Rachel continued to **** her. This was crazy. What could have made her so up set? The **** they must be making her crazy. “Idiot!” he hit door with his shoulder. “I,” he hit the door. “Never,” he said as he hit the door again. “Should,” slam, “have,” bash, “left,” smash, “them,” crack, “alone.” He could feel the door begin to give. With one final jolt he slammed into the door. The door burst open. John’s left shoulder popped out of joint as he finally broke through.

“Rachel, Stop it!” he cried as he burst blindly onto the marble floor.

He could hear them stop their fight, as two voices questioned in union, “What?”

The pain in his shoulder was pure excruciation. The only good thing about it was it was enough to kill his erection. The pain was still blinding but as his sight cleared he could make out a sight which made no since. Rachel was on the floor her lip was bleeding she was obviously bruised on her arms and back. She had been curled in a fetal position on the floor by the tub. Karen, yes Karen Faulkner was standing over her with blood on her clenched fists. The only good thing about it was it was enough to kill his erection.

John was still unable to fully believe what he was seeing. “Karen, what are you doing?”

Karen kicked the cowed Rachel. “I Have Had Enough! Enough of sluts like her flaunting their sex everywhere. Whores like her always get the boy to follow them around like…” She lost her will to explain and began kicking Rachel with renewed vigor. John stumbled to his feet. He grabbed Karen by the shoulder and pulled, but she knocked him off and pushed him back against the wall. The pain exploded through his body. He just wanted to sit there and nurse his wounds, but he knew he had to do something. He had to save her; he had to stop this madness. He stood up and with his good arm slapped Karen, hard. She just stared at him for a moment with a cold unblinking stare. Then she just went back into her mad attack.

He needed to get her out of here. John came up behind her wrapped his arm around her throat. He held Karen against his body. He pulled back grabbing his own shoulder so that her windpipe was compressed and the blood to her head was cut off. It was a makeshift sleeper hold, but it was working. She fought, thrashing rancorously, and aggravating his shoulder. As soon as she was still he checked her pulse to be sure she was okay. He looked over at Rachel she was shuddering from head to toe, her bruises were bad but she was bleeding and that took most of his attention. He had to make a choice of whom to tend to first.