Leave Him in Pieces

by August Red

  He holds her there. “That's not how it is and you know it."

  “Be safe.” Her dull eyes are lifeless as they teeter between his. “I know Mr. Kulich has a lot of enemies."

  “I'll be fine."

  Her mouth clenches down. “You always say that."

  “Because it's true. I can take care of myself."

  “I know you don't like people caring about you,” she says, remembering with a soft laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes.

  “It doesn't bother me as much anymore,” he reveals, in an aching whisper, not breaking connection with her. “Promise me you'll be safe,” he asks again, softer.

  “Judas, I'm… you know I'm going to be fine. I wouldn't be—”

  “Promise me." He locks her in place with his commanding stare.

  ”I promise, Judas. I promise,” she whispers, drawing farther away when the car horn honks behind them. “Goodbye, Judas.” Her hand comes up in a short wave. Her nose is as red as her eyes, and she smiles, but it ends in sorrow as her face falls.

  It can’t end like this.

  He doesn’t know where it comes from and why he needs to do it, but in that moment, nothing can stop him.

  He takes several long strides toward her, leans in, brushes his mouth against her ear, and whisper soft he reveals everything.

  The part he’s kept hidden from the world.

  Even from himself.

  “I love you, Isabelle Dela Cruz.”

  He only sees the sterling burnish of her green eyes widen for a second, before he steps back and turns to walk away from the only woman he has ever loved. Will ever love.

  She doesn’t call out to him, doesn’t beg for him to come back to her. She understands. And he loves her even more for it.

  Judas can taste a tear on his lip. Something he's not tasted in seventeen years. And here he thought he’s a man who can do anything, execute any mission with preciseness and perfection. There is no job too dirty, no plan too impossible that he can’t undertake without breaking a sweat.

  He was wrong.

  Yes he did what he set out to do, but he takes no pleasure in the success. The only thing that brings him any sort of peace is knowing she’s safe and that no-one—including him—will ever hurt her again.

  And he did that for Belle. Because of her. Because her life—precious with so much left to accomplish—is more important than anything else. Because her happiness matters more to him than his own. Because, in the end, she is going to survive this and be okay, and that knowledge alone allows him to go on.

  Because—Judas closes his eyes—he is in love with her. And if he loves her half as much as his heart is screaming to him that he does, he'll keep her protected. Which means away from him.

  Even at the cost of his own life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  JUDAS WILL KILL HER, if he ever finds out.

  But Belle has to risk coming back here. She must have it. How can she risk allowing herself to forget the man who broke into her hiding place and changed her world forever?

  She can’t. She won’t. She needs something of him to carry with her till the day she dies.

  To have something to hold on to when the darkness returns.

  She steps into her attic and almost feels like she’s warped back through time. Into the past. Her and Judas, alone, in her place. She remembers how scared she had been back then, but now, now all she feels for Judas is love.

  She looks across over to the windowsill. It shines like a beacon, almost the same twinkle, the same glint she would see in those pools of blue heaven.

  Belle pads over to the windowsill. Her whole body tingles when she reaches it. How can something so small evoke so much emotion inside of her? But nothing about Judas had been small. And this object is the only link to her past. A link to Judas.

  His silver cross.

  She binds the cross around her neck and vows to never take it off. Never. She grips it hard between her fingers, caressing it, as though it will magically bring him back to her.

  Judas... I miss you…

  She lets the tear that flows down her face plummet to the floor. He had told her that he loved her. Only yesterday… but it feels like a lifetime ago. A lifetime without Judas.

  ‘I love you, Isabelle Dela Cruz…’

  Why didn’t she beg for him to turn around, to come back to her? Why didn’t she scream to him that she loved him also? She remembers shock locking her voice away, but she should have tried harder. But it’s too late now. It's over. They had their chance.

  The truth in her heart will always remain hidden.

  She cried herself to sleep last night knowing she will never see Judas again. But it was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it? Their lives are so very different. And being with a man who’s linked to a powerful criminal organization will only put her family’s life in danger. She couldn’t be that selfish. Not again. She just wants Judas to be happy, to be safe.

  Belle wants to stay here all night, reminiscing on every moment she’d spent with Judas, here in the attic, but her family are waiting for her at the edge of town. Her parents tried to stop her from coming back, but she was too fast for them, giving them little choice.

  Her father has arranged for them to stay with his sister for a short while, until they sort themselves out as a family. He’s insisting Belle goes to another college to become a doctor. But she doesn’t know what she wants to do—

  What’s that noise?

  She hears a loud thump coming from beneath her...

  Trembling, she descends the stairs one step at a time. The noises get louder. Why would someone be in her home—her bedroom? A small part of her hopes it's Judas, but the thought dies instantly.

  She needs to leave.

  Immediately.

  Leave without alerting her presence. Whoever it is, her instinct screams it isn’t someone she wants to discover her. If they’d seen her come in, wouldn’t they have confronted her by now? Maybe she can just slip away…

  But the thick scent of cologne is too familiar to her, and terror grips her in place.

  No... No it can’t be…

  Her bedroom door is open and the back of the intruder is in plain sight. He stands tall, still facing away from her when he smirks, “I know you’re watching me.”

  “You…” Belle gasps. “What do you want? Why’re you here?”

  When he turns around, he smiles the cruelest smile she’ll ever see. Belle makes a run for it down the stairs. But he’s faster. He yanks her by the hair and pulls her up, shoving her into her old bedroom.

  A single noise. A single noise changes her world in less than a second.

  The lock clunks shut.

  His cologne seems to intensify. She scampers to the window, hoping to scream for help, but like a cobra he strikes, lunging for her face with something white and toxic.

  Chloroform.

  The last thing Belle remembers, looking out of the window, is her neighbor walking down the street, morphing into a tiny black dot.

  But, by then, it’s too late for anyone to hear her scream.

  BELLE WAKES FROM A START. Her head feels like a jackhammer has been bouncing around inside her skull.

  Where am I? What happened?

  Belle’s eyes dart around the room. Candlelight casts menacing shadows all over her surroundings. They seem to be tumbling or... is it her head spinning? She feels sick, disorientated, not remembering what happened or where she is. But it only takes a few seconds for reality to come crashing down on her.

  The attic.

  Where is he?

  She can hear thunder in the distance, it echoes off the walls and into her beating heart. There is a faint smell persistent in the air around her, a smell that she can’t quite place.

  She tries to raise her hand to soothe her pounding skull but it doesn’t comply. She goes to stand but can’t, and she doesn’t immediately understand why, until she realizes she can’t move her arms or her legs. She’s been tied to a chair. Th
e corners of her lips feel weird and rubbery. She’s been gagged too.

  She looks around, searching for something to help her, some way to get out of her restraints. It’s mostly dark but there are a few scattered patches of light from the candles to see she has been stripped down to just her panties.

  Belle closes her eyes tightly, trying to drive away the tears that threaten to escape. Judas’ face fills her mind as she tries to fight back the nausea.

  He had undressed her... His fingers, his hands, they would have brushed against her breasts, her legs, her whole body…

  He’s going to rape me.

  And Judas won't be coming to save her this time. He doesn’t even know she’s in Wentworth Creek, let alone back in her attic with a psychotic rapist.

  This has to be a bad dream. Panic grips inside her and she begins to thrash about, moaning through the gag. The chair starts rocking, harder and harder—then it falls, sideways, taking her with it and smacking her head on the floor.

  The light in her world goes out again.

  When she wakes up she wastes no time in forcing her weight back hard against the chair, straining into a kneeling position, putting as much pressure on her restraints as possible. The pain in her wrists is so extreme that she begins to see spots in front of her eyes. She continues to pull and twist, feeling her wrists begin to slip through the ropes.

  She can do this. She’s a survivor. She will escape, run to her neighbors and get to safety. Soon. She just needs to keep going, ignore the wrenching pain that controls her every move.

  But then her body stops. Freezes.

  She isn’t alone.

  A deep rumbling chuckle erupts from the surrounding darkness. Somehow, it seems to vibrate through her body twice-as-hard than the thunder from outside does.

  A shadow flicks in the corner of her eye and forces her body to jerk. The sound of the door creaks open. She hears footsteps coming closer until something looms over her. Her head is throbbing and she thinks she’s going to hurl when he pulls her chair upright, bringing her back to an upright position. He strips off the gag.

  Tears fall down her face, uncontrolled, and instantly she despises her weakness. She mentally scolds herself for breaking. Now is not the time. Belle takes several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. Because of Judas, she is going to fight; she is going to do whatever it takes to stay alive.

  She tests the ropes, pulling her hands tight against the burn of the fibers with all her strength. Pain shoots through her wrists, up her arms. She bites her tongue to stop from screaming.

  “Don’t tell me you’re trying to escape.”

  “What're you doing? Why have you tied me up?”

  “Because... I know how much you love to be dominated.” His eyes are like flint as they rove up and down her body, examining her like she’s a carcass hanging from a meat-hook. “I knew you’d come back for me, Petal.”

  “What? I-I didn’t come back for you, Emmett.”

  “Trying hard to get? Huh?” He snorts. “You and I both know you’re begging for any man to fuck you.” He approaches her. Belle shrinks away from him as he bends over her, smirking. “You always did look best in white panties. It’s why I left them on,” he muses, his voice echoing through the attic. The sound seems to come from all around her, completely unnerving Belle. Her tummy lurches and her mind goes into overdrive. She will gouge his eyes out, punch him in the throat, bite him when she’s free from her prison. But then her thoughts are distracted. There’s something in his left hand...

  Oh God... a knife.

  “You don’t need to be afraid, Isabelle. I’m going to take care of you. After all, we are to be married.” His voice is still disembodied by the darkness. “But you’re scared, aren’t you? Scared because he brainwashed you.”

  She shudders at his touch. Marriage? He’s completely lost it.

  She has to get out of here. But she doesn’t know how she can escape. He has a knife and her body is still wrecked from the drug in her system. She isn’t getting out of this alive, is she? Belle closes her eyes and tries to focus, pushing her fears aside.

  Judas… I need you.

  “Let me go, p-please,” Belle says, trying to stop her voice from wobbling. The attic is so dark, she can hardly see Emmett’s face. She hears shallow breaths and a whisper, a whisper so quiet she can’t quite hear it. “Emmett, I-I can't hear you.”

  He takes a step closer. “I said, you're mine.” He comes closer and Belle reminds herself to breathe. “You are so beautiful. Especially in candlelight.”

  Her mouth is dry, her tongue feels heavy with salt. She needs to play nice with him. It’s the only chance she has to stay alive. “Why don’t you untie me. My arms really hurt, Emmett.”

  He crouches down at her feet. His thick cologne suffocates her and she coughs. Her throat feels like it's on fire.

  “That’s exactly what I plan to do, Petal.” His hand molests the inside of her thigh. His palm is like sandpaper and she yanks up her legs, trying to squirm away from him. It’s no use.

  Shaking his head, he unties the ropes at her feet first and then her wrists. Belle crosses her arms over her exposed breasts, rubbing her upper arms. He reaches across her and she shrinks away, but he grabs hold of her hand and tugs her up to a standing position. Her legs feel like jelly and she has to lean on him for support. A curdling shiver strikes straight into her spine.

  Belle looks over at the door. She can kick him in the balls, push him over, make a break for it. But her arms are so sore and weak and she can’t no for certain if he locked the attic door. Before she can decide to act, though, he drags her to the futon where Judas had once slept.

  Her sleeping beast.

  Please, Judas, save me. Break down the door and save me!

  Judas will save her… As delirious and impossible as that idea is, it is the only thing she can hold on to.

  Wishful thinking.

  A miracle.

  Emmett heads over to the door and picks something up from the floor. When he returns at her side, he opens a bottle of red wine and pours two glasses. He takes a sip from his glass, then lifts the other glass and puts it to Belle’s lips. She declines but he thrusts the glass against her face and forces her to partake in his sick games. The red liquid pours down her face, spilling onto her neck, her breasts and then her thighs. The liquid feels thick like blood. It even tastes bloody. She chokes down a few mouthfuls but it doesn't put out the fire in her throat.

  Maybe this can numb the pain…

  He suddenly grabs her by the throat, and her glass smashes to the floor. “I want to taste you.”

  “Wh-What?” she can hardly speak. Hardly breathe. He isn’t killing her. Not yet.

  “Let me show you, Petal.” His hand releases her and strokes her cheek with his claw-like finger. He sips his wine, then leans forward, pressing his lips against hers. Belle fights to keep her mouth closed, but he digs his nails into the side of her face, hard, and her lips are forced open.

  The wine seems scolding hot, from his mouth into hers. She wants to spit it onto his face, but she is so weak and all she can do is comply. Swallow. Another wave of nausea rolls through her and it takes what little strength she has left to not puke.

  “You like it, don’t you, Petal?” he says, pulling away. “Let’s try it with my cock. I know you’re begging for it.” Belle nods but her stomach churns and tears roll down her cheeks. Her skin is covered in goose-bumps, even though she feels as hot as the Sun. His hand trails up her thigh and begins to play with her panties. With sudden force, he rips at them. Belle screams knowing what evil is coming next.

  He slaps her. “Shut up!” he shouts in her face. But she can’t stop sobbing. “Shut the fuck up!” He stands up as though this isn’t going as he planned and stomps over toward the door.

  This is her chance. Her only chance.

  Grabbing the bottle of wine, Belle stands up, nearly loses her balance as the room seems to revolve, and for a second, she thinks she’s
going to fall. But somehow she fights through the pain and nausea and gets to the window fast, throwing the bottle. She hears the attic window smash into pieces only seconds later. It's all she can do.

  Someone must have heard it breaking. And then they will call the police, thinking it's a robbery…

  It's her only hope.

  Emmett grips her hair from behind and yanks her back. “You stupid bitch!” He pulls so hard that some of her hair rips right out of her scalp. She screams. The pain is searing, making her vision flash white as she stumbles against the floor. He kneels over her, spreading her legs. She fights him every step of the way, but it only serves to both excite and anger him more.

  “I’m going to take you in both holes until you bleed, Petal,” he says, pressing the blade across her throat. "Punishment for fucking that bastard scum."

  Belle feels the skin give way to the blade, the steel cutting her flesh, a small ribbon of blood running down her throat. She feels his breath hot against her face as he mutters, "Don’t disappoint me again," pressing the knife tighter against her throat. "Not one fucking sound," he warns, before sliding the knife from her throat. “You’re going to regret disobeying me. I’ve been too nice, too gentle with you. You need to be shown your place, Isabelle.”

  This is it. This is how it’s going to end and there is nothing she can do.

  But she will never stop fighting.

  For Judas.

  For herself.

  Belle spits in Emmett’s face, wishing she could bite a particular limb off instead. “I’d rather burn in Hell than have you touch me again! I'll keep fighting, you bastard!”

  Emmett looks down at her, his eyes gleaming. "That was against the rules," he hisses. "Now you'll have to be punished—twice.” He punches her, hard, on the side of her stomach.

  Someone had to have heard the window shatter.

  They had to.

  Or she is going to die.

  Chapter Fifteen

  SOMETHING WORTH FIGHTING FOR.

  Belle Dela Cruz.

  That’s what she had been for Judas.

  But he’s the Devil incarnate and she’s... she’s an angel.