by Amber Lacie
The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. This was far from over. In that instant, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be out of the hell I was in. A clean smell of soap and mint surrounded me as he leaned down, almost touching my forehead with his. “I got to do some things first. Once they’re done, if you do everything I ask, I’ll help you.” The feel of his breath blowing across my skin, drew me closer to him. Not physically. You see, my body didn’t move, but my heart did.
Despite my best interests, I put a little bit of faith into his words. Leaning back a bit, he squatted down, keeping his eyes focused on mine. “I can’t keep calling you ‘she’, you hate when I call you puppet, so tell me––what should I call you?”
The word ‘yours’ immediately bounced around in my head. Quickly snatching it, I mentally locked it back into my vault of crazy ideas. “Piper,” I whispered.
“Piper,” he muttered. He said my name as though he were testing the shape and feel of it on his tongue. The air around me grew warm as I watched him wet his bottom lip with his tongue before sucking it between his teeth. “One more thing, Piper. I’m not the good guy. In fact, I’m far from it.”
He stood and plopped himself down on the armrest of the couch. I knew he wasn’t the good guy, the blood splatters and broken glass at the house had already told me that. The way Bull had cowered in front of Saint, knowing Ben was close, told me everything I needed to know. If the devil was Ox, then Ben had to be something close to it. The devil’s right-hand man? I thought to myself. Perhaps he was the devil’s eyes? Either way, it didn’t matter.
All I knew for sure was that in the world I was in, it was the devil that reigned supreme. Fuck with him and your life would end. And right now, I was playing chess with the devil. The way I saw it, it was better to be in his court than one of his enemies.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Everything had gone to fucking shit. Murphy’s law was exploding all around me, and I was fucking Murphy. Anything that could’ve gone wrong, had. Saint was fucking dead; I made sure of that with a bullet to the back of his head. And Brendan––he was so close to being mine and I fell right into his trap and let the little rat fucker get away. Left with no other option, I took the girl, and left Jim to clean up the mess.
What a fucking mess it was. After the bullshit at the fucking coke house, I waited until the next morning to give Beckett a call. Though, not before sending a warning text to Aaron. I’m sure he would want his boys in there running all sorts of forensics and shit.
I took the girl. I fucking took her with me, my mind continually replayed. I couldn’t let her stay there, but instead of handing her over to the Feds, I took her to see what information I could get from her. Who fucking does that? A monster does. Now, she’s my secret.
The day I put her on my bike is forever burned into my brain. That night, I could hear her crying in the shower. At first, I thought maybe she was just talking to herself, but then the sound of loud sobs echoed into the room. I couldn’t just lie there and let her break like that. When I entered the bathroom, I found her crumpled up in a ball at the bottom of the shower, her eyes tightly closed. When I opened the shower door, shock ran through me. I knew what she had looked like before, but this was different. The water at her feet was brown from the matted dirt on her body and in her hair.
I don’t know what possessed me to step into the shower and wash her; I also don’t know what possessed me to watch her as she slept that night. Tossing and turning, she often mumbled for someone to ‘fuck off’ and ‘to rot in hell.’ The one that stuck with me the most was the unwavering ‘no’ that fell loudly from her lips. Despite her frail appearance, somewhere in there was a strong, fierce woman. She had survived horrors no man should have to endure, and there she was telling them all to fuck off in her sleep.
By the time morning had rolled around, I had arranged our trip up north, to the city. I couldn’t stay here with her. Eventually, someone would get wind of a battered girl living with two scary guys in a motel room. No, I was going to take her back to my apartment. No one would ever look for her in plain sight, so that’s exactly where I planned on keeping her.
She was going to stay in my place, with my things. She was my prisoner, and for all intents and purposes, she was mine. My stomach twisted with excitement at the thought, but I quickly brushed it off. I didn’t have time for this fucking shit-show. Brendan was missing and Ox would be expecting an update on whatever the fuck went down. I needed to reach him before Brendan did, so I left him a message. Running was the coward’s way out, but the girl needed to be out of the picture. And the best way to do that was to get back to Chicago so I could properly sort through it all.
Somehow, I always had a way of fucking things up. It’s what I did best. Once I had her back at my place, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had made a terrible mistake. The first night, she was moaning in her sleep. It wasn’t loud enough to wake the neighbors, but it was loud enough to keep me awake. I was pissed. Storming into her room, I stood over her bed with a pillow grasped firmly in my hands. I kept telling myself that if I laid it over her face and held it with just enough pressure, I could end it. No one would ever need to know I took her, or that she was here.
I leaned down towards her, when she suddenly rolled onto her back. Her long lashes fanned out over her crisp white cheeks. Her long auburn hair curled around her like Medusa’s snakes, weaving in and out of one another. Just then, the corner of her mouth raised, and she whispered, “Ben.” I hesitated. There’s no way she could know I was there. She was dreaming of me. I was the monster haunting her dreams, ready to end her life, and she was none the wiser. Taking a step back, I dropped the pillow to the floor.
Over the next few days I did my best to ignore her. Of course, all of that had gone to shit when Jim came back into the picture. He had a way of getting under my skin, trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed. Even when I was with Arlo…he always put his two cents in. Of course, if I would’ve listened to him there might have been a chance I could have been a father to my son. As much as I’d still like to think Arlo could’ve been mine, I know it would never have worked. The rock star had won her over years before I laid eyes on her. But to be a father to my son––I would give anything to change what I had done.
I don’t know what ate at me more, the guilt of being a failure to my only son, or the need to destroy my own father. I was sitting on the arm of the couch letting the wrong choices I had made in my life play over and over in my mind. Then there was the girl––Piper. An hour or so earlier she was cowering from me, then Jim swoops in and promises her some fucking burger and all of sudden her spine straightened a little. It was the way she snapped back at me, the defiance in her tone, which made me aware of her. I didn’t like being told no. It wasn’t something I was used to.
After Jim made it back with the food, I watched in amazement as she scarfed down the burger in front of her. She went as far as wiping the sauce off the wrapper with her finger and then licking it clean. Her cheeks sucked in and her eyes rolled back as she enjoyed every little bit she could get. Jim must’ve caught me watching her because he cleared his throat and nodded towards my phone laying on the table.
“Did ya’ call him?”
I glared at him as he took another bite of his messy burger, dripping mustard onto his shirt. “First of all, fuck you. You know better than to bring this shit up now. Secondly, wipe your face and change your shirt. Lastly, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Ben, you’re playing with fire,” he warned before wiping his face and pulling his shirt over his head as he walked towards his bedroom. “You need to call him. I don’t give a fuck which him, but ya’ need to do it fast,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Fucking Bren—I mean, Bull, is loose. What if he talks?”
I hated that he was right. There was no way I was admitting to it either, so I ended the conversation by flipping him off. Not that he could see me with his back towards me. But he knew. Fuck it, I thought to myself
as I snatched my phone off the table and sent a quick text to Beckett. We would need to meet somewhere other than my apartment, so I offered a neutral location. This, of course, flagged more than his attention. It wasn’t but a few minutes before Aaron was ringing my phone.
“What the fuck are you playing at? What are you hiding?” The irritation in his voice was thick.
“Hello to you too, Uncle.”
“Cut the bullshit, Ben!” he said, his tone serious. “You leave behind dead bodies, drugs, and tire tracks headed off to who the fuck knows where––then you go silent for almost a fucking week. Tell me, do you have her?”
“Listen, I knew you had things handled, so I stepped back.”
“And the girl?” he asked again, more firmly this time.
“I have no clue what you’re fucking talking about. What is this person worth? You know, you’re not the only one looking for her. Saint had boys out looking for a missing person the day I got there. There was so sign of anyone, except the empty water bottles in the basement. You’re looking for some girl, Saint was looking for some girl, and word around the fire says Ox is too.” Bullshit and lies. There was no way in hell I was going to admit to taking her. I needed her, for what I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t letting her go. Needing a distraction, I figured the lie about Ox would suffice. Sure enough, it worked.
“Ox wants her? What are his plans?”
“No fucking clue. All I know is that he likes to keep everything orderly. Her being on the run leaves him with loose ends. She’s a liability. And I’m willing to bet he’s looking to rectify that.” I looked over at Piper who was staring at me with wide eyes, trying to follow the one-sided conversation. Yes, Puppet, I’m talking about you.
She started to stand from the couch, but I reached out, firmly grabbing her wrist to stop her. The first time I touched her I wanted to get rid of her. The second time was in the shower, and I couldn’t stop myself from helping her. The third time, I held a phone against my ear watching fear creep into her eyes. Without a single thought, I ended the call and pulled her back onto the couch. God only knew what the fourth time would bring, so I quickly let go of her.
Looking down, she rubbed her wrist where my touch had reddened her skin. “I think––I think I could handle this better. Or maybe just…I don’t know. I just think––” Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves. “Ben, are you going to kill me when you’re done with me?” she whispered, her voice cracking, full of emotion.
Dryness filled my mouth at the sadness in her voice. The fact that was even a thought in her mind chilled me to my core. I didn’t have an answer for her. I was so far from the person I used to be that I didn’t even know my own limitations. Could I take a life? If they were in my way, easily. Could I take hers? I had no fucking clue.
Pulling her feet under herself, she sat quietly, staring at the blank television. It was way too quiet in the room for my liking, so I turned it on and tossed her the remote. I had no interest in watching anything; I just wanted to drown out the silence.
I watched as she scrolled through the channels before finally settling on an old horror movie. The monster had just emerged from a bog when she turned to face me, a serious expression upon her face. “Jim told me you were the good guy.”
I chuckled. Of course, he fucking did. “Jim’s full of shit. He has a way of bending the truth.”
Deep brown eyes challenged me. “Not to me.”
I scoffed at her reply and walked into the kitchen to grab a drink. She doesn’t know Jim like I did and she sure as fuck doesn’t know me. As I leaned against the counter, my eyes couldn’t help but fall onto her.
My God, she was beautiful; a fucking porcelain goddess with golden freckles on her nose and under her eyes. Her scent was everywhere. The flowery smell of her soap followed her from room to room. To this point, I had done everything I could think to do in order to push her away. I needed her to know what she knew about the men that held her, but none of it would do me any good with Brendan unaccounted for. He was the only one still breathing who knew of Piper’s existence, and I needed to get my hands on him before my father did.
Jim and I began to follow leads in hopes of finding Brendan. The days passed with ease, but the nights wreaked havoc over the apartment. Every time we thought we had something figured out, we’d find ourselves lost on empty trails. It was like someone was toying with us––with me. I tried so hard to stay focused, but it was nearly impossible with those big brown doe eyes constantly looking at me as though I were something I wasn’t. Whatever she needed, whatever she was looking for, it wasn’t me. I was the monster little girls ran from. The only problem was, I didn’t want her running to someone else.
Fuck. I am going to hurt her. Either by my hands or someone else’s, there is no way around it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to protect her forever, but I wasn’t willing to give her up either. Fucking selfish as always.
Funny how there are some traits you just can’t grow out of.
Days had turned into weeks and I had slowly developed bad habits. My nerves were still on edge, but I had finally begun to feel more comfortable as the three of us fell into a pattern. Jim and Ben would argue about the next move to make next each day, though I never gave my opinion. It seemed every time I entered the room, they would both fall silent. My days were spent in front of the television, binge watching reality shows and old horror flicks. At some point, one of the boys would order food and we would all eat in silence. My nights were spent in my room, alone in the dark.
Falling asleep had proven difficult, as my mind would rush with nightmares. Eventually, exhaustion would win and sleep would claim me. I had woken up a few times with what Jim called night terrors. I never remember the dreams, but the fear always paralyzed me. All I could do was scream. The first night, Jim came rushing into my room with a bat held firmly in his grip. Once he calmed me down, I rolled over to go back to sleep. I didn’t close my eyes until the following morning. The second time was more of the same and there was an iced panic underneath my flesh I couldn’t shake.
Finally, Ben had grown tired of the random outbursts. I knew he was angry. What I didn’t know was if he was angry with me, the situation, or both? After that, he moved my belongings from the small bedroom I was staying in, to his much larger one. I slept in the middle of a king-sized bed under a heavy black comforter, while Ben slept in the corner, in a chair, his feet propped up on a small table. Ben had tried to convince me with his words to fear him, but it was the little gestures that made me doubt him. He made me feel safe when everything else warned me of the danger that followed him. Ben had become my bad habit.
One day, I was watching a movie where a girl had Stockholm syndrome. She had fallen in love with her captor, which ended in her gory death. Love had tricked her. Lucky for me, I was jaded enough to realize love didn’t exist. The problem was, I couldn’t decide if Ben was my captor or my savior. I also couldn’t understand why I so desperately needed the answer. I was confused by the way he could say one thing and do another.
Knowing Ben was in the room, watching me while I slept, didn’t disturb me like it should have. Instead, I found comfort in knowing that no matter what my nightmares were, they were nothing compared to what Ben could to do to those who gave them to me.
One afternoon, Jim and I were sitting on the couch watching some people trying to survive naked in the woods. He mocked them and informed me of why every choice they had made was wrong. In one particular episode, a man had cut his finger trying to make himself a spear. I watched in awe as the flesh peeled back from his nail. I had made the comment that it reminded me of a banana.
Jim smirked at me. “It’s crazy how easily the flesh peels away. I once watched Ben peel the skin off some assholes arm. It was like watching him peel an orange. It was like second nature to him. I remember thinking I wanted to learn how to do that.”
“Did you? Learn, I mean?”
“Yeah, Ben showed me. I’ve only done it once. F
ucking grossed me out. Ben’s got a better stomach for that shit. I prefer cutting things up and digging holes.”
Days like that reminded me of where I was and where I came from. They also reminded me of how truly fucked up I was. There was something inside of me that wanted to see Ben in action. I wanted to see the calm to his storm. After that, I began to find myself leaning closer to him when he was near. No matter where he sat, I would sit close to him. Where I was intrigued by his dangerous sexy allure, he was repulsed by me.
We became an awkward ballet around the apartment. When I pulled closer, he pushed farther away. Every movement I made was quickly countered by him. It didn’t take long before Jim began to notice the awkwardness between us.
One evening, while Ben was in the shower, I was lying on the bed, running the edges of the sheet between my fingers. The only thing blocking my view of him was a small wooden door. The clothes he was planning to wear were lying on the end of the bed, so I intended to leave as soon as the water turned off.
To my surprise, Jim caught me waiting and sat down beside me on the bed. “It’s a little creepy waiting outside the door like a lost puppy, don’t ya think?”
“Probably,” I mumbled.
He sighed, rubbing his palm up and down his neck. “You know he’s going to be pissed if he finds you in here, waiting.”
“I know.”
“Explain it to me then, because from here it looks like you’ve got a death wish.”
“Maybe I do,” I muttered. “I’m sorry I’ve fucked everything up for the two of you. You had plans, and I got in the way. Now I’m hiding in your apartment, and God only knows when the fuck that’ll be over.”
“Whoa, Pipes, you ain’t in the way.” I loved when Jim used his nickname for me. It reminded me of my sister––before they took me away from her.
“He hates me being here. He hates me. I can see it in his eyes. I mean, how fucked am I, Jim? I’m fucking lying on his bed because I feel safer when he’s near me. I know he’s a monster. I get it. And I know he could hurt me, but I don’t care. I can’t explain it.”