by Nolon King
“Bullshit!”
Paul reached under her dress, his fingers crawling up her inner thighs.
She squirmed, but there was no point in trying to escape. The bondage wheel was secure.
“Know what she liked most? When I did this.”
He began rubbing Mal’s clitoris outside of her underwear. She wanted to puke again. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his smile, knowing it would only make it easier to imagine him doing this to her baby girl.
“Oh, yeah, she liked that a lot. And she liked this even more.”
He slipped a finger inside her.
Mal squeezed her eyes tight, flashing back to that moment after Jasper saved her, when he handed her the gun, offering her a chance to kill the monster right there.
Now, as he slipped his finger around inside her, she wished she’d taken that shot.
Mal had tried to do things by the book, to put the murderer in jail where he belonged. But what good was doing things the right way when the jail couldn’t even hold him let alone prevent the pedophile from striking again or taking Jessi?
Paul laughed and pulled out his finger. “Of course your daughter wasn’t nearly this dry.”
She wasn’t ready to open her eyes and see that smug fucking face beaming back at her. Not yet. But then, as she heard Paul walking away, she had to see what was happening.
There were two beds on the opposite wall. Beside them, a long table where Paul was heading.
Her eyes were still blurry from whatever she’d been injected with, but she could make out a black bag, the kind that doctors used to carry back when they still made house calls, long before she was born.
“This,” Paul said loudly for Mal’s benefit, “used to be a movie set. Well, I use the term ‘movie’ loosely. Mostly for illegal pornos and snuff films. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw all the props they left behind.”
He pulled something out of the bag, then started walking toward her, keeping the item hidden behind his back. Mal swallowed, bracing herself for whatever the hell he was about to bring over.
And then he showed her — a gun, which he pressed hard against her forehead.
He laughed. “Yeah, they left a loaded gun here! Imagine that. I wonder if it works. Let’s say we test it!” He turned the pistol toward Jessi’s bed.
“No!” Mal screamed. “Don’t!”
Paul turned, smiling. “Why shouldn’t I? Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel to let her live through what I’m going to do to you both?”
“Please, Paul. You don’t need to hurt us. You can let us go. You can live out your life here in Mexico and no one will look for you.”
“Bullshit! I’m a wanted man, Mallory. You really think I believe you won’t come looking for me?”
“I swear. Just let her go. She’s been through enough.”
Paul closed his eyes. “What about me? What about what I’ve been through?” he screamed, face turning bright red, spittle hitting Mal in her face.
He was all over the place emotionally. She had no idea what she’d touched on, but Mal made another mental note to working on solving the mystery of his psyche and how to get out of this using the only thing she still had — her words.
Paul stomped back over to the bag, put the gun back inside, and grabbed something else. This time he didn’t bother to hide the knife. He glared at her, his eyes full of rage.
“Do you know what that Nazi fuck did to me?”
“No,” Mal said, trying to sound sympathetic.
“I’m going to show you.”
Paul spun the wheel, stopping it so that Mal was horizontal to him. Then he walked toward her head, his crotch level with her face, and unzipped his pants. But instead of pulling anything out, he slipped the knife through the zipper, pretending it was his cock.
He held the blade, pretending to stroke it as he looked down at Mal, his smile now impossibly wider.
“First he made me open my mouth. Open your mouth, Mallory.”
She shook her head.
“Open your fucking hole or I’ll cut a new one in you!”
Mal opened her mouth.
“Good, now stick out your tongue.”
She did.
He pressed the cold blade against her tongue.
The taste of copper coated her throat as Paul drew blood.
She struggled not to choke, as he slipped the blade in deeper. Choking might press it through her tongue or cheek.
She gagged.
He withdrew the blade, but his smile was gone. Now Paul was staring at her as one might look at an experiment, coldly, unemotionally, as he puts his fingers in her mouth and forced her to show the cut on her tongue.
Paul walked back over to the table, laughing as he went. “So, Mallory, while I was in your house, I noticed quite the collection of pain pills. And I got to thinking about my own mother and her addictions. God, you have no idea how much I hated that cunt.”
Mal swallowed the blood, stuck in the horizontal position, wondering what the hell he was going to come back with this time.
“And I was wondering, were you always an addict or did you become one after Ashley died?”
“After,” Mal said.
“Hmm, I’m not sure I believe you. But, at any rate, I got to wondering, what else have you done, Mallory? What other drugs?”
“Just pills.”
Mal wondered what the hell he was doing, hunched over the table. She smelled something burning.
“Really? Why stop there? I hear that heroin provides a much better high. The kind you live your whole life and can never experience again.”
“I’m not a junkie.”
He turned around holding a hypodermic in his hand and a length of rubber hose between his teeth. “Now, I never did the good stuff myself, but damn, for someone like you, this has to be the ultimate, right? Why not live a little?”
“What are you doing?”
He spun her right side up, put the needle in his mouth, and slipped the hose around her arm, tightening it.
She shook her head. “No, please. Don’t.”
He laughed. “Oh, come on. You must be curious.”
“No, please, Paul. Don’t do this.”
He tightened the hose, then met her eyes. “You’ll thank me later.”
Seconds later, he was bringing the needle to her vein.
“Please, don’t!”
Too late.
The needle punctured her flesh, and the drug rushed into her bloodstream.
Chapter 47 - Jasper Parish
Escaping Paraíso had been easier than Jasper thought it might be, and for once, he felt like the odds wouldn’t be impossible to overcome.
Jordyn occupied the front seat of the stolen BMW while Lucia, Rosita, and Maria sat in the back. Lucia leaned forward between the seats, giving directions as Jasper navigated the bumpy roads.
“How you feeling?” Jordyn asked Jasper.
“I think we might make it,” he said, though he hated jinxing himself by thinking positively before they were on site and Dodd was either disabled or dead.
“You still seeing the same vision?” Jasper was referencing the standoff, with him about to kill Paul and Mallory arguing about it.
“It’s fuzzy,” Jordyn said.
Visions rarely changed, so Jasper didn’t know if it being “fuzzy” meant that things had already taken a turn for the worse or if they were authoring a new future. Maybe him stopping to save Rosita had altered the earlier timeline.
But Jasper refused to believe that stopping to save the girl or to extract the others out of Paraíso had altered things for the worse. It saved him the trouble of extracting the home’s location from Madam. And it had been the right thing to do.
“Who are you talking to?” Lucia asked.
“They can’t see me, Dad. Remember?”
“Just thinking things out loud.” He looked at Lucia in the rearview, then at the other two girls, both glancing around as if they’d not been outside in age
s, even though the scenery was only comprised of trees and the occasional homes, both small and sprawling.
“When’s the last time you girls have been out?”
“We were born in Paraíso,” Lucia said, then after a pause she added, “But I have been to the bad home twice.”
“Jesus.”
“Okay, it’s coming up on this road. Not too far down.” Lucia pointed down a small dirt road, surrounded by thick woodlands on either side.
Jasper turned onto the dirt road and started driving, but much slower. After a few minutes, Lucia pointed to a gate about a hundred yards away. It was open, with an SUV parked inside it.
“The house is just past that gate.”
Jasper stopped. “Okay, I’m going in alone. I don’t suppose any of you have ever driven a car?”
All three shook their heads.
“Okay, Lucia, come up here and if you see anyone, honk, okay?”
“Okay,” she said as she got out of the car and took the front seat.
Jasper pulled out his pistol. “Ever fire a gun?”
Again, she shook her head.
Jasper showed her the CliffsNotes while the other girls watched with awe-struck expressions. This was likely the first time anyone had ever given any of them the power to fight.
“Hopefully you won’t need to use it, but if you do, don’t be scared or think twice. Just aim at their stomach and fire. You got it?”
Lucia nodded.
“Okay.” Jasper grabbed the AR-15 from the back seat. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you see anybody other than me or Jessi or Mallory leave that house, run without looking back. You got it?”
Lucia nodded again. While she’d lived most of her life in fear, this girl was ready to be free, and to fight for that freedom if need be.
Jasper took one last look at all three girls then headed toward the house.
He kept to woods while approaching, hugging the edges until he reached the gate, his eyes on an ever-vigilant lookout. Seeing nobody, he made a break for the gate, crouching on one side of the SUV as he took another look at the small yard in front of the house, and then the house itself.
The windows were all closed, curtains drawn.
He approached the front door with Jordyn behind him but stopped short of trying the knob.
Jasper wasn’t about to fall for a trap.
He motioned to Jordyn that they circle back around. They crept around the side, ducking low in front of an open window. The stopped. The faint sound of a television was broadcasting soccer. Beyond that, silence.
He crept carefully around to the rear, and taking a chance, he peered inside one of the open windows.
The TV was blasting, but the room was empty. According to Lucia, the house had a basement, home to most of the atrocities and probably where Paul was holding his victims.
Jasper reached a set of French doors. Curtains blocked the windows, so he couldn’t see inside. But that also meant nobody could see him.
He tried the doorknob.
It started to turn.
He looked at Jordyn and nodded, readying his rifle as he slowly opened the door.
Jasper stepped inside.
As he breached the doorway, a pistol was pressed against his temple from someone hiding just on the other side of the door.
“Drop it, asshole.”
Jasper turned to see Anders Martin smiling down the other end of Jasper’s Beretta.
Chapter 48 - Mallory Black
The rush of heroin was instantaneous. Liquid heaven straight into her veins.
Whatever high Mal had felt from the pills was an echo of this Shangri-La inside her now.
Ecstasy, even as she tried to fight against it. Tried to keep her wits about her.
She opened her eyes, forcing herself to see the threat, to see Jessi passed out on the bed.
Stay alert!
Paul smiled. “How does it feel?”
Mal didn’t answer, though it was hard to find the seething hate she’d been burning with only moments before. Everything was different. She was filled with bliss, and her eyes were so heavy. It would be so easy right now to leave reality.
She closed her eyes again.
Paul leaned in. She could feel him next to her, though it was like he was above the water and she was beneath it.
“You know who else liked the heroin?”
She opened her eyes.
“Jessi.”
She looked over at the bed again. Jessi was starting to stir. She had one hand tied to the bed with rope. A second length dangled from the bedpost. He must’ve untied the girl to inject her.
“You fucker,” Mal said, though she wasn’t sure if the words came out as sharp as she’d intended. Everything felt so sluggish.
“Mallory?”
Paul turned. “Ah, she’s awake! We’re finally back from commercials.” He went over to a tripod in the corner and turned on a camera, aiming it at Jessi on the bed. “We’re gonna make us a little movie down here, ladies. I’m gonna call it, Picking Up Where We Left Off. I know, it’s not the best title, but who cares? It’s not like people will be seeing it.”
Mal was hearing him but not connecting the meaning behind his words.
Picking Up Where We Left Off?
Paul came over to her. “So, let’s see, when last we left our ragtag group, they were at Mallory’s house, in her daughter’s room. And the evil child molester was about to show the detective what he had done to her daughter, so she could feel what she felt in her last days. So, action!”
Paul went over to Jessi and lifted her dress.
She tried to push him off of her but was doing a terrible job, drugged as she was and tied to the bed.
“Stop it!”
Paul hopped off the bed, ran over to Mallory, and got in her face. “You want me to stop? Then how about you and me play a little game?”
“What?”
“How about you be Ashley, and I’ll be your daddy.” He reached under her dress again and roughly grabbed her.
“Fuck you,” she said, before remembering what that had earned her the last time.
He reached behind the wheel and unlocked something. Then it spun, fast.
Mal’s world became a stomach churning blur.
Paul started walking away.
She desperately tried to follow his movements, battling the urge to throw up and make sense of the blur. He was at the table when the wheel finally slowed.
He picked up the knife and brought it over to Jessi’s bed. “Spread your legs, little girl.”
Jessi cried out, and Paul slapped her hard.
Mal was upside down as she saw him split her legs with his knees, roughly holding her down.
“What’s it gonna be, Mallory? You gonna play Ashley or am I going to fuck Jessi in the cunt with this knife?”
Mal screamed, “Okay! I’ll be her!”
Paul leaped off the bed and ran over with the knife as Mal kept spinning.
He grabbed the back of the wheel, jerked it until she was right side up.
And then she could hold it no longer.
She puked, getting it all over Paul.
“You cunt!” He slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. “God damn it!” Paul glared at her, “You ruined the dress!”
“Sorry,” Mal said, partially meaning it, because the drugs were fucking with her emotions, making her incredibly sad to have ruined the dress.
Hold onto the anger. Stay alert!
Paul brought the knife to her chest.
She finally felt a rush of danger.
No, no, no!
For sure it was over. This was it. Paul was going to gut her, watch her die, then murder Jessi in some horrifying way.
She’d failed.
Just as she’d failed Ashley.
Mallory cried.
Paul stopped, staring at her.
“What? Did you think I was going to kill you, my sweet little angel?” He laughed. “No, no, no. Not yet. We�
��ve still got things to do, Ashley. You have a birthday celebration.” He stroked her hair, and then her face.
He cut at her dress, but when the knife got stuck he tossed it aside and began ripping the fabric away. It hadn’t come completely off, still tangled in the straps of the wheel, but her nakedness was exposed, and Paul was staring at her, up and down, as if entranced.
He turned away, stripping off his own clothes, “I’ll be right back after I wash off.”
He opened the bathroom door, and while she couldn’t see him as he shut the door most of the way, she could hear him turn on the water for a shower.
This was their chance!
She looked at Jessi, crying on the bed, and whispered, “Psst!” a few times until Jessi finally looked up. “Can you get free?”
Jessi reached up and clawed at the rope’s big knot, but then after a minute of frustrating failures she cried out, “I can’t.”
“Keep trying. You can do it.”
Her eyes were glassy, and she could barely focus. The poor girl was probably sleepy as hell from the heroin, her every movement a struggle.
She could hardly focus herself, but after she thought Paul was going to stab her, Mal’s adrenaline shook off some of the drug’s effects, forcing her into alertness. They would both die if she didn’t.
There would be no rescue this time. It was all up to them.
Jessi was still struggling with the knot when the shower went silent.
“Psst!”
Jessi looked up.
Mal shook her head then nodded at the bathroom.
Jessi looked over, then immediately laid her head back down and closed her eyes.
Good girl.
Paul sauntered out of the bathroom, a white robe clinging to his wet body. He couldn’t be bothered to fully dry off. He was carrying a wet towel. He glanced at Jessi, then went to the table, grabbed the pistol, and came over to Mal.
“I’m going to unfasten your straps and we’re going to go over to the bed. You do anything stupid, I’ll kill you both. But not before I hurt Jessi and make you watch. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Mal was confused, then remembered the game.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, swallowing her vomit.