by West, Sinden
“I can’t breathe,” I choked out.
“Yes you can.” It sounded like he was speaking from a distance. “You need to calm down. It’s just a panic attack. You can breathe, okay. Just breathe.”
And suddenly I could. I was back in my body with air in my lungs and the hard wooden floor beneath me. He scooped me up and set me on the bed, pulling the blanket over me. I felt the bed dip as he sat beside me, but he didn’t touch me, and eventually I fell asleep.
The dodgy doctor that my mother had paid tended my wounds with fat hands that shook. His drug habit meant that he wasn’t allowed to practice anymore, so he was discrete providing the pay was good. The BMW he drove looked alien parked outside the grungy motel we were staying in, so he must have been doing okay from his illicit dealings.
After he had finished taping my ribs, he motioned those fat fingers downward. “You mother said you had some pain down there.”
I clamped my legs shut. “It’s fine,” I said tightly. Those fingers weren’t going anywhere near me.
He shrugged. He didn’t care as long as he got paid. “The painkillers are on the dresser. Don’t OD.”
He grabbed his bag and headed outside to talk to my mother, who had been furiously chain smoking and pacing outside while she spoke on the phone. It wasn’t long before I heard his car roar to life and drive off.
Mom came in then, her mouth tight as she clutched her phone with white fingers. She sat on the twin bed opposite me. “You okay?”
I nodded. “What now? He’s crazy, Mom. I’m scared of him.”
“Me too,” she said. A soft look came over her face for a moment, but it passed quickly. She took a deep breath. “Listen, we can’t do anything else with this guy anyway. I just got off the phone with my contact.” She sighed. “I didn’t do my homework properly. Apparently he has some connections to the mob or something. He knows some nasty people, so blackmail isn’t an option here. Sorry babe, it was all for nothing.”
Relief passed through me; I didn’t want to risk anything with this guy again. “What was his deal anyway?”
“He got in trouble with the law a while back. Kept some girl captive in his house, hurt her pretty badly. He got caught, but the girl disappeared, so there was never a case against him. I knew that if you managed to seduce him, then he would be an easy target.”
My mouth fell open. “Seriously? You knew he was violent, and you let me do that with him? And you let him keep doing those things to me?”
A hard look came over her. “I told you. I needed good evidence to blackmail him, and your bedroom was the only place we could record him undetected.” She looked away and sighed again. “He seemed so weak and broken; I knew that he was a recovering alcoholic. He just seemed like such a good target.”
“You threw me under the bus!”
Her hand reached out and smacked me. Her eyes bulged. “I’m still your mother. You don’t speak to me that way!” She got to her feet and straightened her skirt. “I’m going to get a drink.” She grabbed her purse and headed to the door before turning and I could see the regret on her face. “Listen, I’m sorry I hit you. We’re going to lay low, okay? You can be Paige again, and we’re going to find a small town and go on the straight and narrow for a bit. I’m already working on getting your “Rachel” transcripts from school changed into your Paige name. It’ll work out; you’ll see. Get some sleep, honey.”
I awoke with a jolt, expecting to be in that awful motel room, but instead I was in the awful house. I was alone in the room, but the door was wide open. I stood up from the bed and headed to the bathroom. I used the toilet and then brushed my teeth hard until they bled. After I had wiped my mouth, I couldn’t drag my eyes away from that girl in the mirror and that look in her eyes that betrayed everything she’d done.
I made a fist, and then I punched the mirror as hard as I could. It shattered and pain speared through me. I punched it again, and blood flowed everywhere. Shards of glass mixed with red stuck out of my hand. I stopped and looked at it, unable to drag my eyes away.
I heard running on the stairs.
“What the fuck?” Aaron grabbed the towel and wrapped it around my hand before lifting me up and sparing my bare feet from the glass around me. He took me to his bedroom and deposited me on the bed. “Don’t move.”
I didn’t. He disappeared for a minute and then came back with a first aid kit. I watched him silently as he first removed the glass, then applied antiseptic cream and bandaged my cuts. He didn’t say a word the whole time, but I could tell he was angry. His actions were stiff like he was controlling himself, and his jaw was clenched. He didn’t meet my eyes once. He sat back on the bed for a moment surveying his work. Then he took me by surprise when he grabbed my good arm and yanked me up to the top of the bed. He fished a cable tie from his pocket and secured me to the headboard, leaving my good hand free. Then he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Seventeen
He didn’t come back for a long time. I fell asleep, despite the throbbing pain in my hand. I liked being asleep; it was my favorite thing to do. But I woke up when the door banged open, and the smell of liquor permeated through to me, my eyes flew open in fright just in time to see Aaron stumble into the room. He had a full glass of whiskey in hand and half of that sloshed onto the floor as he nearly tripped.
He looked down at the floor and gave a small laugh. “Fuck.”
Fuck
I sat up in preparation.
He put the glass down on the bedside table beside me, before kicking off his shoes and taking off his top. The jeans were more of a challenge; he sat heavily down on the bed, nearly on top of me, so he could maneuver them off his legs. His boxers came down with them, and he bundled them up and tossed them over to the dresser.
He reached for the whiskey glass again, but instead of putting it to his own lips, he grabbed the back of my neck. “Here, this will help with the pain.” He tried putting the glass to my lips, but I attempted to turn my head and his hold tightened. We struggled like that until some of the liquid made it into me, and the rest spilled down onto my chest.
He released my neck as he looked down at the now stained sheets and my booze soaked breasts with a look of dismay on his face. “Fuck,” he said again. “Do you know how old that scotch was? Do you know how much that little bit was worth?”
I didn’t answer him, and I wondered what my chances were of having him pass out drunk right at that moment.
Then he met my eyes and gave a wicked grin. “I ain’t wasting it.”
I tried to edge away as much as being trussed to the bed would allow, but his hands, now empty of the glass, firmly gripped my hips. I watched him as he lowered his head and started to lick at the scotch or whatever it was that had trailed down between my breasts. He worked slowly as if savoring it before moving over to my breast to lap at what remained there. I shifted my hips in response and his grip tightened as his mouth closed over my nipple, and he began to suck and tease at it. I blushed at how hard it had become. When he pulled his mouth back to inspect his work, he grinned before moving over to the other breast. When that too was as hard and aroused as it could get, he moved and kissed my neck.
“You like that, huh?” he murmured against my skin.
“No.” There was a hardness to my voice that made him raise his head to look at me. I tried not to flinch at the alcohol on his breath and the amused smile on his face annoyed me.
“No?” he said softly. One of his hands had released my hip and was rubbing along my thigh. “Are you sure? You just told me you were a whore?” he teased. “Rachel the whore.” His other hand was rubbing my other thigh now. “How many men have you slept with, Rachel?”
I kept my mouth firmly shut.
“Ten? Twenty? How old were you your first time? Was he gentle with you?” His fingers moved to stroke in between my legs and I tried to keep my face emotionless. He moved closer to whisper in my ear, “Did he play with you like this and get y
ou all wet?” His fingers were lightly circling my clit now, and I bit my lip. “Or, was he rough? Did he just bend you over and take you until his cock was covered in your blood?”
I shut my eyes, but not soon enough to stop a tear running down my cheek. Horrible memories and horrible present combined with that pleasant feeling between my legs made me so confused I felt like I was going crazy.
“I can be gentle with you, Rachel. If you want?” came the whisper.
More tears leaked out, and their presence made me angry. With my wounded hand, I shoved at him. In his drunken state, I took him by surprise and he fell onto his side. He rolled onto his back and barked out a laugh.
“Seriously, Rachel? When did you get so picky? You know I’m gonna make you pay for that.”
I turned away from him.
“What? Not talking to me now?” He put his hand on my hip and pushed, forcing me onto my back. I met his eyes.
“You should get some sleep. I’m sure you need to be well rested to spend all day being a sick and twisted monster.” At least my tears had stopped, and my words came out without shaking.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think I am?” He nodded to himself. “I guess I can’t blame you.”
“Don’t you have a job or something that you need to get back to?” I asked him, witheringly.
He gave a smile. “Let’s just say that I’ve proven myself to my employers. They’re pretty flexible when it comes to me.”
“What do you do?”
He shrugged and gave a laugh like there was some kind of private joke that I didn’t know about. “I take care of problems.”
I swallowed. “Problems like me? Is this what you do to all your ‘problems’?”
He let out another drunken laugh. “Usually I get rid of them quickly. This is personal.”
I raised myself up so I was sitting again. “Are you going to kill me?” My voice shook.
His smile dropped. “I don’t normally kill little girls.”
I lifted my wounded hand and held it against my head. “No. But he will, won’t he?”
“He’s not a killer, Rachel.”
It was my turn to let out a laugh; it was a hollow and painful sound. “Isn’t he? What about that girl he had kept in his house?”
His eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”
I ignored him. “Is she dead? Did you kill her? How come she disappeared?” My voice rose in panic.
He sat up as well and thought for a moment before speaking. “She’s not dead. She was an illegal immigrant. She didn’t speak to the cops because she probably would have been deported. After she was okay to leave the hospital, she was given enough money to go somewhere else.”
My panic subsided a little bit, but my heat still beat fast.
“So it that what you two do together? Kidnap and torture?”
His jaw hardened. “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t involved with it.”
“Then how was it?” My fingers gripped the sheet.
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to explain anything to you, Rachel.”
“I know,” I rushed out. “I know you don’t. But I need to know. Please.”
The look in his eyes was scary, and I half expected him to hit me. But he didn’t.
“He thought he loved her; she screwed around on him while he kept her in an extravagant lifestyle. When he found out, he went a little crazy. It’s hard not to go crazy when everyone shits on you all the time, Rachel.”
“I know that,” I bit out. “But he’s going to kill me, and you’re going to stand by and let him. The stuff he did before…I’ve paid for anything bad that I did ten times over.” I pulled at my harnessed hand and the cable tie bit into my wrist. I didn’t care, the pain felt good, so I kept pulling.
“Stop.” He leaned over and clamped a hand down on my wrist so I couldn’t move. “You need to calm down before you have another panic attack. Stop hurting yourself or I’ll tie you up so you can’t.”
I stopped, and he let go of my hand. I lay down and turned onto my side as I began to cry. He switched off the lamp beside him, plunging us into darkness.
Finally, he sighed. “You know, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to put you back in your own room.”
I stifled my sobs. I didn’t want to go back in that room with the lock on the door.
Chapter Eighteen
When I woke up, the sun was peeking through the curtains, and I urgently needed to pee. Aaron was lying practically comatose beside me. I didn’t want to wake him, but I was scared that I’d have an accident if I weren’t allowed near a toilet soon.
“Aaron,” I said in a quiet voice. He didn’t stir.
“Aaron.” He snorted in his sleep.
I kicked him in the ribs, not too gently, and he awoke quickly. He sat up straightaway staring at me.
“Did you just kick me?”
I shook my head. “No, I just said your name. I need to use the bathroom really badly.”
“You did kick me.”
“I didn’t kick you. Please, I have to go.” I clamped my legs together. “I don’t want to have an accident in your bed.”
He sighed and threw the blankets off him, before standing and grabbing a pair of boxer shorts. Then he fished out a knife from his jeans and cut through the cable tie. He grabbed my arm and yanked me after him as he stumbled to the bathroom like he was still half drunk. He obviously didn’t deal with hangovers very well.
He must have cleaned up the glass from the mirror because the floor was clean. He let go of my arm, and I rushed to the toilet, just making it on time.
He walked over to the vanity and splashed water over his face. “Man, I feel like shit,” he mumbled, before turning to me. “You finished yet? You need to make me breakfast and coffee. Lots of coffee.”
He sat at the table after swallowing a few painkillers, and I started cooking for him. I knew he was still watching me as I worked, but he wasn’t in his usual predatory form because he was too fucked from the alcohol. Now would be the time to run for it…if I had clothes, and the door wasn’t locked, and I weren’t in the middle of fucking nowhere.
I burned my good hand and didn’t even flinch.
I set the plate down in front of him, and he didn’t even notice when I sat in a chair at the table with him. He only ate a little bit of the food, before he shoved the plate at me. Then he sat with his head in his hands at the table.
After I had finished, I started cleaning the kitchen and once I was done I sat back down at the table. He finally moved, and it was like it pained him.
“Get up, go upstairs.”
I obeyed, with him right behind me. He manhandled me into the room with the lock and went to close the door.
“Wait,” I called.
He paused and rolled his eyes. “What?”
“Don’t lock me in here, please?” I didn’t want to spend my last days on this earth locked in a tiny room and going crazy.
“I have to get some more sleep,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“You could tie me up, or something.” I didn’t like how desperate my voice was sounding.
He groaned. “Fine.”
I followed him down into the living room. He used the handcuffs to fasten me to a heavy side table so I sat on the floor. I didn’t mind; this room was pleasant with the fire going, and it was better than that bedroom. Then he collapsed down on the couch without another word to me and closed his eyes.
I sat there, bored and scared, but at least I was warm. I studied his face. He was so still that I wondered whether he was actually asleep at all. But after at least twenty minutes of no movement, I figured it was safe to go for the diary that sat on the armchair. It took some doing for me to stretch my legs sufficiently to reach it. But eventually I got it and opened it in my trapped hands.
I flicked through it. Most of it was mind-numbingly boring about AA meetings and nightmares. I reached the page where we went to the zoo. It was soon after we�
��d moved in, and I’d yet to make a move on him.
It was his idea to go to the zoo and even though I was way too old for that kind of thing, I had been strangely touched. It was a nice day as we walked around; he and Mom were hand in hand, and he ensured that I never felt left out. For a moment, I felt like I was part of some kind of TV family and not just acting.
Mom ruined it when he went to get us ice cream. She pulled me aside.
“Seriously? You should have worn something sluttier,” she had hissed in my ear. “You need to get your ass into gear, young lady.”
I’d shrugged her hand off my arm in such a way that we were normal mother and sullen daughter to any onlookers.
“Relax. I’ll make my move soon.”
I didn’t let her know about my reluctance. She wouldn’t have cared. But secretly, I thought about our life staying like this. I liked him. I really did.
His diary entry was so normal. He sounded so happy. He thought he’d found love.
An unpleasant feeling twisted inside me.
Guilt.
I threw the diary back onto the chair with amazing precision considering how restricted my hands were. I didn’t want to touch it anymore. If I were close enough, I would have chucked it in the fire.
And then outside I heard a noise. It took me a moment to realize that it was a car.
Someone was here.
Chapter Nineteen
He seemed to take an agonizingly long time to work through the locks on the front door. My hands tightened around the leg of the table as I waited. I wondered what I looked like cuffed here. Bare breasted with only that ridiculous transparent G-string for modesty, and that dog collar firmly around my throat to remind me of my status.
Aaron didn’t stir at all as the front door finally creaked open, and footsteps sounded in the hall. I stared at the doorway, waiting.
He looked older and thinner than last time I saw him. But he was still strong and tall. He let the leather bag he was holding drop to his feet with a soft thud as he took in the scene. His eyes scooted over me and then his face relaxed into a smile, and he walked closer.