Take Me With You

by Nina G. Jones

  But deep inside, I lament the thought of when this will end. It's always on to the next house, the next target. But she's the ultimate. The crown jewel. I'll have her once and then…what next? I don't let the thought steal my focus though. I've always managed and I'll manage after this.

  My boots softly contact the burnt-orange carpet with each step. I pass the boy's room. He is sound asleep. I think about tying him up, but if he makes any noise resisting, I risk Vesper waking up. Then they'll have the jump on me. I'll make sure to keep them quiet so he doesn't wake. I'll use their protectiveness as a tool to control them. Despite what you may think of me, I don't want to scare the kid if I don't have to. He's had it tough enough. So instead, I reach in and close the door without a sound.

  I pass their bedroom, the door ajar, and peek in. Doctor Handsome is shirtless and in track shorts. Vesper is wearing this white cotton baby doll thing. The way the pale blue moonlight hits her body, it's almost see through. I want to pounce her right there, but I have to keep to the script. It's what's allowed me to do this in dozens of homes without the cops having an inkling of who I am.

  I head to the living room to take in the scene. One last time before the madness. When all is quiet and unharmed. Just before their untouched lives are sullied by my fingerprints. There are many pictures of her mother Joan, and her step-father, Dr. Peter Reynolds. Spain. France. Thailand. Mexico. There's only one of Vesper and Johnny. It's just them. He's sitting on her lap and she's squeezing him, tickling him. He's laughing, his body misshapen from writhing and his condition. She's looking at him with a smile. Is she smiling at him? Or laughing at him?

  I don't understand. I don't understand how a pretty, smart girl like that could love that boy unconditionally. She must remind him how he's different. She must make him feel left out sometimes. He's not like them. And those of us who are different, they always find ways to remind us. Even if they are your brother or sister. Even if they say they love you.

  As soon as you open your mouth, they'll think you're a joke.

  The lurking doesn't last long. I'm jittery with the urge to finally touch Vesper.

  I didn't bring a gun. Didn't think I'd need it tonight. So I'm forced to improvise. I go to the kitchen and pull the biggest, sharpest knife from the knife block. I hold it up and slowly twist it back and forth, admiring the way the moonlight flickers off of it. It excites me, holding this power in my hands. I walk to the massive picture window that looks out to the neighborhood. Just dark houses. Quiet. Stillness. I am the king of the night. They all lie with their necks exposed. Any one of them can be mine. But tonight—tonight is Vesper's turn to learn what it’s like when the sun has hidden and cannot save you with its light. I pull the curtains closed over the shades and it feels like nothing exists out there. Like the world is everything within these walls.

  I’m not prepared as I usually am, so I wander about, looking for items I can use as bindings. Dr. Peter keeps a tidy garage, so I access it from the mudroom, just off the kitchen. He has a few climbing ropes perfectly coiled, hanging off a few hooks just to the side of the door. I lift them and slide them over my shoulder.

  It's time.

  I walk into the bedroom. Her closet door is open, overflowing with dresses and shirts and scarves. I grab a couple of the scarves and drop them on the bed at their feet. The fabric catches air and falls to the bed like a weeping woman. I gently place the rope beside it so as not to disturb them. I secure the knife with an overhand grip.

  Click.

  The flashlight shines at her face.

  I study her as she opens her eyes, but shuts them at the sting of the blinding light. She tries to make sense of it all as she opens them again and rubs them. But she won't be able to. None of this makes sense.

  It happens so fast. I'm dreaming of sunsets at Lake Tahoe and then the sun, once kissing my skin, is burning my eyes. No, it's not the sun. I'm not dreaming. This is real. Is that Carter? No, it's…I don't know. I open my mouth to call Carter's name.

  “Don't scream,” a gritty voice whispers. I can't see what's behind the bright light. I don't have time to think or rationalize. I just sit there, stunned. But it only lasts a second before I rebel.

  “Carter!”

  He jolts up in response to the alarm in my voice. The intruder shines a light at him, that's when I get a better look, but it's not much. His face is covered in a mask so that his lips and eyes peek through. I see little flashes of residual light in my vision, making it hard to adjust to the darkness.

  “Who the hell are you?” Carter asks.

  The man grabs my arm and pulls me up. I let out a cry, but suck it back in when a cold blade rests against my neck.

  “Oh my god,” I sob.

  “I just want your money. I don't want to wake up the boy. Do you?”

  Carter puts his palms out, showing he's willing to cooperate.

  “Take whatever you want. Please just don't hurt her.”

  “I won't. Just do what I say.”

  The knife slips away from my neck, but as soon as that relief hits me, there's a poke in my back, just where my heart would be if the knife sliced through my ribs. I kneel in between him and Carter. Even if Carter, a 6'4” former collegiate volleyball player with a great reach could get to him, I'd get caught up between them. I'd probably get stabbed.

  “Tie him up,” the devilish voice orders.

  “We'll do what you want. You don't have to tie—”

  The knife pinches my skin. “Do it.”

  “O—okay.” I reach carefully for the rope. It looks like my stepfather's climbing rope.

  “Turn around,” the masked man directs Carter. “Hands behind your back.”

  Carter purses his lips, his barely-awake mind wrestling with his options, and turns with a protesting huff. I sob as I wrap the rope around his hands.

  “I'm sorry,” I whisper to Carter.

  “Don't talk. Tie it tight,” the man grunts. I can tell he's trying to disguise his voice.

  “It's okay, Vesp. Don't be sorry. Just stay calm.”

  “Enough.”

  I nod and tie the rope as weakly as I can without being obvious.

  “Feet,” he grumbles.

  I take the other rope and bind Carter’s feet.

  The man pushes me to the side and tosses the flashlight haphazardly on the bed, so that it shines away from us.

  “You run and I'll take the boy,” he warns. My thoughts go to Johnny. He had been in the back of my mind, but the scene had been so focused to this room. I realize I have to do whatever it takes to keep that man away from him, even if it means to fully cooperate. He just wants money. I'll give him everything we have.

  I sit at the edge of the bed, trembling, stifling my cries as he redoes my handiwork, tying Carter in a complex series of knots, attaching the feet and arms so that he's hog-tied. He grabs a tie-dye scarf from the bed and covers Carter's eyes. It's the first time I get a full view of the intruder, head to toe. He's not short, but not as tall as Carter, maybe five-eleven or six feet. I can tell through the dark shirt and military-style pants he's wearing that he's built. Not thick and muscular like a bodybuilder. More lithe, like an athlete. Like a lacrosse player. Carter may have him beat on height, but this guy looks more solid, and I'm not sure Carter could take him. I know I'd certainly be no match.

  Once he has Carter immobilized, he turns his attention to me, walking over to the chair I keep by the closet and lifting the cushion. There's twine underneath it. It doesn't make sense.

  He walks over to me, remarkably light on his feet, despite the tall black boots he's wearing. He reaches down and turns off the flashlight and puts it in his pocket.

  “You okay?” Carter asks. He's lying on his side on the bed, facing away from me, but he tilts his neck a little to address me.

  “Mmmhmm,” I mutter, afraid of upsetting the man tying my hands behind my back. He reaches for the other scarf and places it in his pocket. Gripping the painfully tight ligature around my hands,
he pulls me to my feet.

  “Show me where your purse is,” he commands, pushing me out the door. “Move and I'll kill all of you. I'll slit the boy's throat.” He closes the door behind him and shoves me against the opposite wall. He pulls twine out of his pocket and ties it around the bedroom door handle, dragging the other end across the hall to the bathroom, and ties it to that door handle. It makes it impossible for Carter to open the door, and if he tried it would be noisy. He blindfolds me next.

  “How can I show you anything?” I snipe. He doesn't answer.

  My gut twists in sickness. This is too much work for someone who wants a purse. But I'm bound and Carter is trapped, and Johnny is still tucked in bed. I have no choice but to quietly comply.

  He yanks me by the arm and drags me to down the hall. His hands grip my waist and he sends me launching onto a bed. We're in my parents' room.

  “No,” I whimper. I want to scream, thrash, fight. But my hands are numb from the binds and he's strong. And if I run, he could hurt Johnny.

  He crawls over me, using his knees to separate my legs. I resist, but what I mount is met with effortless handling.

  His hands run up my thigh, over the papery fabric of my nightdress. He rubs his fingertips on one of my nipples. I writhe underneath him, but that only seems to encourage him, as I feel his hardness stab against my pelvis.

  With the adrenaline shooting through my system and my sight stripped from me, my sense of smell becomes acute. He smells of grass and the hydrangea bushes outside the house. He must have crawled through them. He smells faintly of soap, as if he had showered before coming here. His clothes smell as though they have just been laundered. This is someone methodical. He's not deranged and filthy. That fact sends a chill down my back.

  His warm breath forms a trail along my neck.

  “I've waited for you,” he whispers. “You're so beautiful.”

  I don't respond.

  “Shit,” he hisses. “Don't move.”

  The weight of his warm body lifts away and I am left cold and alone. I think he's left the room, but I'm not sure. He has an uncanny ability to make very little noise. I deliberate if I should book it. I can make it to the neighbors and they can call the police.

  But I am paralyzed with indecision. Unsure of what will lead to survival and what would ultimately cause more trouble. Finally, I decide to try to make a run for it. Even blindfolded, I can feel my way out of the house if he's distracted. I have to try. I roll to my side and get myself upright.

  I keep my legs on the edge of the bed to guide myself towards the door. Then I start to run.

  Smack. I take about four steps before I hit a firm body. I can smell him. I quiver in fear. Will he hurt me? Will he hurt Johnny for my disobedience? I almost drop to the floor in terror.

  He doesn't say anything. Instead, he again handles me like a doll, and rests on top of me.

  “I gave Carter a choice. I told him ten haymakers to the face, or I fuck you. Guess what he said?”

  “He wouldn't.” Carter would never let another man have me.

  “He did,” the menacing figure whispers in my ear. “But you have a choice too. You can veto him. I can go to the other room and punch him as hard as I can in the face fifteen times, or I can fuck you. You're going to be a nurse Vesper; you know his face will be destroyed. He'll never be the same. That is if he survives.”

  How does he know things about me?

  “Make the choice,” he snaps, not giving me much time to give attention to the fleeting thought.

  I imagine Carter, helplessly blindfolded on his knees. Unable to see the punches coming. Unable to brace. Spit and blood splattering on my bed and walls. His nose ending up on the side of his face. His eye sockets being crushed. I can do this. I can take the pain for both of us.

  I don't want to believe he sent the man back here to rape me. And in my heart, I don't. But if he did, I don't blame him. At least my scars will be on the inside.

  “Don't hurt him,” I beg. “You…you can…”

  “I can what?”

  “Do it.”

  “Say it. Say it exactly how I said it.”

  “F—fuck me.”

  He breathes heavily, the warmth of it fanning across my chest. “You did the right thing, Vesper.”

  He knows me. Is this someone I trust? Someone at the restaurant or school?

  His gloved fingers run along my lips. “I'm gonna come inside of you. You make me so hard, Vesper.” The desire makes it hard for him to hide his natural voice, which is even raspier than the disguised one.

  His lips trace along my neck. It tickles. It feels good. My mind zig zags in confusion. I don't want this, but my nerve endings don't know how to translate his touch. I hear him shuffle, and then when his hands are on me again, the cold leather is gone and I am met with warm fingertips.

  “You have such a beautiful body.” He pulls up my nightgown. I am exposed, powerless, entirely submitted. “I've wanted to taste your cunt since the day I first saw you.”

  That word, it shocks me like a live wire. I've maybe heard it used once before.

  Wet softness grips one of my nipples. His mouth. I sob, eyes and lips clenched, trying not to let cries escape. Johnny has slept through all of this so far by some miracle, and this can't have been for nothing.

  “You're so fucking soft,” he gristles, his mouth still sucking on my breast, confusing my body. I can feel the blood rushing between my legs. I want to tell it to stop, but I can't. I am just as much a prisoner to my body as I am to him. His fingers make their way between my legs. He gently slips them between my lips. Fondling me. Like my body is a toy for his pleasure. “You're fucking soaked.”

  I shake my head, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “I'm gonna watch my come drip out of those lips when I'm done with you, Vesp.” He says Vesp, almost mockingly. Like he knows those dearest to me call me that. Like he and I are familiar. “I was going to make you suck me off first, but your pussy is so ready. Do you feel how hard I am?”

  I don't answer.

  “I asked a question.” The blade of the knife makes a surprise appearance against my neck. Fear slices through me like a lightning bolt.

  “Y--yes.”

  “You made the choice, Vesper. You didn't have to do this. You wanted me to. You walk around in those little shorts. Hanging out in front of your house with that bikini top, teasing with your hard nipples. You wanted me to come here.”

  I have a moment of clarity. The man, the one driving by. It's the only time I wore a bikini top in as long as I can remember.

  “You were here,” I whisper.

  “Many times,” he taunts.

  Before I can engage any further, he takes my breath away as he slides his fingers into me. It's stunning. He had violated me already, yes, but this—he's inside of me now. Even if it's just his fingers. He's penetrating me.

  “Please,” I beg.

  “Tell me you love it.”

  I shake my head.

  He keeps rubbing, his palm pressing against my clit. I feel that build up I felt earlier today. I try to take my mind elsewhere, to stop it. The reverse of what I had to do with Carter.

  “Don't upset me,” he grunts. The knife cuts into my skin. “Tell me.”

  “I love it,” I answer through tears. I can't tell if his rhythm is making my hips slowly rock or if it's my body involuntarily conceding. But before I can humiliate myself, he stops, giving me time to catch my breath.

  His fingers meet my lips again. I can smell the faint aroma of sex on his fingertips. “Lick it with the tip of your tongue.”

  I sheepishly dart out my tongue to taste a hint of the saltiness.

  “I want you to see this,” he says, whipping off my blindfold. Our eyes lock. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I gasp when I see his. They glow. They are the eyes I saw at the library with the signature golden fleck. A turquoise so pristine it picks up the low levels of light in the room and reflects it like two small moo
ns. I wasn't imagining him these past few weeks. He's real. He's terrifyingly real.

  He still has the mask on, but I watch as he licks my cream off of his fingers. “It tastes better than I have ever imagined. We're going to do a lot tonight. I'm gonna eat that pussy over and over. But first, I'm shoving my cock inside of you.”

  “Please, I'll give you everything I have.” I bargain as a last ditch effort.

  “That's what I'm taking,” he remarks in a sinister tone, reaching down to pull himself out.

  I look down against my better judgment to see a swollen head. He's pent up and massively aroused. It's thick, thicker than Carter who is not lacking in that department.

  “You're mine, Vesper. I'm going to mark you like a fucking animal.”

  It's inevitable. I made my choice. To take this sacrifice for Carter and Johnny. I take care of people. It's what I do. I can live with this, but I can't live with them being hurt.

  He presses the head up against my slick lips. I gasp as he slides it up and down, lubricating himself with my wetness. And then he's done being gentle, pushing against my tight, nervous muscles to penetrate me.

  I suck in a sharp breath. My mind races with thoughts in that brief moment. Earlier today, I was agreeing to spend my life with the sweetest man I know. Now I'm bound in a room with someone who has been watching me. A man I naively fantasized about. But now he's real. He's here like somehow I subconsciously beckoned him. He's inside of me. Nothing will be the same.

  He pulls in and out, in and out. Fucking me. Stretching me. I moan through tears as his free hand roves along my body, squeezing, rubbing. His teeth tug on my nipples. The other hand still holds the knife. His hand clenches it firmly like he's stopping himself from using it against me.

  The intruder presses his lips against mine. The itchy wool of the mask scratches against my cheek as I open my lips, letting him conquer another hole. He's kissing me, and I find myself so utterly dominated that I let him do so without a fight. What's a kiss when he's already pulsing his dick inside of me?