by Evelyn Glass
The ringleader floated my way, handing his shirt to one of his underlings. “You look like you need someone to dance with.” He had a soft southern drawl. I had to admit, it was pretty hot. He wasn’t exactly my type with a bald head and black tattoos all over his shoulders and chest, but I didn’t need something my type. Just something good.
He took me by the hips, pulling me close to him. I could feel his hands run up my spine, underneath the lace and latex of my bustier. Finally, they rested on the curve of my ass, a finger slipping between the fabric of my panties. I leaned back and moaned a bit as I rested closer to him, our bodies swaying back and forth together. A man approached me with another pink drink and I shot it down again, not even noticing the fiery aftertaste anymore. All I wanted was this man’s hands on my body and the nagging voices in my head to melt away with the music.
After a few more drinks and dances with men from the group, I had completely lost Lana. Actually, I had lost all of my senses. I didn’t know how late it is or how long I had been dancing. I didn’t even know what happened to my purse or my cell. People’s voices all melded together into one as the men whispered into my ears things they wanted to do to me. I just smiled, tilted my head back, and laughed.
The ringleader appeared again, the men all parting around him. He wasn’t dancing, but instead took my hand, leading me back towards the house. I stumbled, laughing each time my heel caught in the cracks of the stone pavement. And he was always there, picking me up by the ass, feeling his way through my clothing, until he finally picked me up from under my legs and carried me into a room off the staircase.
I immediately recognized it as a study. The smell of leather and old books filled my nose as I looked around in awe. It was like a fairytale. I clapped my hands in glee, forgetting where I was or who brought me here. When I spun, he was on me, still swaying with the music from outside.
His deep voice rattled me as he said, “I didn’t get to introduce myself back there. I’m Tommy. And I know you’re Kylie.” He clicked his teeth together as he added, “Do you wanna have some fun Kylie?” He opened his palm for me, revealing a little white pill.
I turned a bit, unsure of what to do. The alcohol was making me unsteady, but I knew better. And my fears only rose when four of the guys from earlier walked in the door, shutting it quietly behind them. I stammered as I twisted to get away from his thick grip, “I’m sorry, Tommy. I don’t do that stuff.”
“Of course you don’t. That’s why I’ve already given it to you.” His smile transformed from playful to devious in less than a second as I attempted to walk backwards towards the door. Before I could reach it, there was another guy on me.
The man took his crystal glass and poured the gold liquid onto my chest. I was frozen in place as I watched him tilt his head and lick and suck the drops and trickles off my prickling skin. When he came back up, kissing my neck and jaw, he exclaimed, “Just as I thought a little whore like you would taste.”
Another man was at my side, grabbing at my hands as things suddenly became darker, less focused. He had my hands in a lock as I felt something like a wire hold my wrists together behind my back. He pushed me down towards a brown leather sofa as another launched on top of me, ripping the cup of my bustier and exposing my breast to them. I felt something sprinkled on me as a man hunched over my waist. He used a rolled up dollar bill to snort whatever it was up his nose.
I was stunned as my body felt heavy, weighted. I wanted to wrestle myself free but my limbs felt like they weighed over two hundred pounds each. And everywhere I looked, a new face appeared smiling, laughing.
A man shouted in the distance as the group dispersed away from me. I turned my head slowly to see them file out of the room, leaving only one standing guard. His back turned for a second and I mustered up every bit of my drooping energy to pull my hands out of the crude wire ties. I could feel the thin metal cut into my hands, leaving trail marks where they sliced and cut. All the while, I was scanning the room, planning my escape. By my estimate, I only had one shot to get this right.
The guy turned back towards me, stepping slowly towards my limp body. I pretended to pass out, leaving my hands halfway covered by a pillow near my head. He sat down at my side and placed his hands on my breast, fondling my nipple. I was doing my best not to cringe or mumble, but his fingers were ice cold and his twisting and massaging was putting me on edge of calling out.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I knew what happened next in this scenario, and it wasn’t going to come true. My hands reached harder as I pretended to moan in ecstasy. His head dipped in towards mine as I felt something cold, hard, metal find my hands. I grabbed for it and in a millisecond, I slammed it into the man’s head. His long brown hair went flying with his head as his neck twisted like a ragdoll from my force. He fell on top of me as I lurched up, his body tumbling down towards the ground.
The young man was covered in the red pools of warm, thick blood trickling from his forehead where the bronze statue connected with the side of his head. I looked down at my white bustier that has been stained with circles of his blood, my hands, too, red and dripping. I wiped them on the pillow, unsure of what the best move was to make here. The man wasn’t moving, and by the way his head was turned, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. I reached down gingerly to feel at his neck. No beats of life, no air on my wrist.
I killed a man. I couldn’t process it. I killed a man. I killed a man. I killed a man. It repeated over and over again in my head. But I only had a few minutes to think. I knew the others were right behind the door. I could hear them laughing and stomping in the distance. My only chance of an exit was a small window behind the desk. I ran towards it, my heels stepping in blood and leaving trails of my deeds. After struggling to lift the screen up, I managed to slip up and down the side of the wall, the brick siding scratching my hands and legs. At that point, I didn’t even know which blood belonged to me.
I could still hear the party behind me as I rushed towards the driveway and street, ducking behind bushes and hiding behind cars parked in the lot. I felt as if I had run a marathon before I even made it back to the road. It was late, I could tell. Probably only 1 AM, but a taxi was still lingering outside, obviously waiting for the partiers to need him. I limped towards him, opening the door, and launching myself into the backseat.
I took a few breaths as I clung to the leather upholstery. I couldn’t look away from the mansion and I was waiting for any sign that I had been found out. And as the taxi driver asked me where I was going, I heard it. It was a scream in the dark, lights flashing in the mansion’s looming windows, and the sounds of people running towards the door.
I turned back towards the taxi driver and I told him the one place I knew I could go. “I need you to take me to Gable Street. It’s where the industrial warehouses are.”
Chapter 25: Obsession
I hit replay again as I watched her head tip back gently as I eased into her. She bit down on her lip ever so slightly as I began. And there was that look, that moment. I spotted it again. My mouse clicked the rewind button as I went back seconds for my fifth replay in an attempt to study it more.
Kylie’s performance today hadn’t left my mind from the moment we stopped. I heard her when she told me it was over. I heard her when she stomped out of the studio with her vow to never come back. But there was something more, something there that her words weren’t telling me. It was what her body did when it sighed, when her eyes lit up, when she said yes to what really should be said no to.
She trusted me. None of what happened on the soundstage before me was forced or pretend. She wasn’t acting either. Kylie wanted it as much as I did. And not only that, she loved it.
She loved it. She loves me. It was a crazy thought, I know, a person who could feel so strongly about leaving you actually loving you. But I could tell through the hurt, the angry bursts, that she wasn’t just disappointed because she discovered my past. She was in pain over me not living up to the expec
tations she had for the person she loved.
I reached for my phone, hoping to see anything, something from her. But it was blank. Not a missed call, a text, an email. She was cut me off. I opened her contact information knowing I, too, could make another move. I was never into begging, but for her, I would do it. I would get down on my knees and grovel if it meant being able to taste those lips on mine once more, to feel her bare hands on my chest.
A knock on the sound stage’s outer door forced me back to reality. A voice was calling my name, screaming it loudly over the sounds of the metal echoing down the empty hallways. I put the laptop screen down and raced through the room. As I got closer, I could make out her voice even more clearly. I couldn’t run fast enough to open it.
I swung back the door, finding her in white, slinky lingerie. But the red caught my eye first. It wasn’t part of the ensemble, at least that I could tell. Furthermore, her hands were covered in it. I spotted the patches in her stockings where they were torn and the scratches on her wrist. I could only get out her name before she frantically interrupted me, her hand grabbing for me as if she couldn’t make me out clearly.
“Help me.” She said weakly as she fell into my arms like a pile of bricks. I set her down gently against the cinderblock walls and ran out to the cab, tossing him a few twenties from my wallet.
“Is she going to be okay? She was looking really bad when I picked her up.” The drivers looked back at where he saw her fall, unsure if he should call the police or just drive away.
“Where did you pick her up? Was she with anyone?”
“No, man. I picked her outside of the Peterson Mansion outside Flicker Street. She was alone, running towards me.”
I handed him another twenty for the information and then headed back inside. What happened to her was beyond me. Right now, I was more concerned in ensuring she was safe. I could ask details later. I hoisted her in my arms, taking a closer look at her. Her white lingerie was almost completely see-through except for some strategically placed lace designs. Her panties had soft ruffles cascading down the back and connecting with the thin strap. Her blonde hair was tied back into a slick ponytail, but pieces of flyaways were falling down her neck. Her skin, besides the patches of red blood, was looking moist, as if she had been covered in something. Her mouth was open agape, but she uttered no sound. I could only tell she was alive by the pulsating muscle running down her neck.
“Kylie,” I shouted loudly at her, “I’m going to put you in a cold shower.” I heard her groan a protest. At least she understood me. “You need to wash off whatever is on you.” I brought her back towards the dressing room and into the bathroom. I clicked on the water as the sound of water rushing filled the quiet void. She closed her unfocused hazel eyes as I stepped inside the shower with her in my arms and held her out under the faucet.
She screamed, wiggling and wrangling in my arms to be freed as the water hit her head. A thought occured to me as I set her down gently in the tub as I quickly ripped off her clothing. I knew the red on her is blood and, from the looks of it and her tiny wounds, it wasn’t hers. I needed to save her clothing before I ruined any potential “evidence.”
I ran out of the shower and grabbed a pair of scissors. I cut along the seams of each piece of clothing until she was fully nude. Her head slumped up against the back of the tile wall as I shouted towards her, “I need you to tell me what you took.” She sunk farther down, her body unable to hold its own weight. “Kylie! This is important. If you can’t tell me, I’m going to call the cops.”
Whatever I said awoke her. Her eyes sprung open as she called out “No!” A hand found mine. It was weak, but she held me in place. I, again, asked her what she took and she answered slowly, her words not stringing together well. “The guy…white pill…vodka…blood…blood… blood.”
“Someone gave you a white pill?” I thought back of all my times as a drug dealer. Only a few pills were actually white. I asked her some more questions. “Was it round? Did it have an X on it?”
She nodded slowly, her head circling around. She confirmed it. Some bastard drugged her with ecstasy. And, by the looks of her, it was a high dose meant to knock her off her feet, not to give her a good time. I stood and ran out towards the sound stage. Behind the blank set was a small kitchen where catering would set up on longer shoot days. I rummaged through the supplies ‘til I found what I was after.
I ran back towards her room and sat down by the tub with a waste pan in my hand. I held her hair back as I opened her mouth and forced the straw deep down her throat until she began to retch, coughing deeply. I ran my fingers gently through her hair, another hand massaging her neck as I reassured her, “That’s it Kylie. That’s it. Just let it out. You’ll feel better when it’s out of your system. Believe me.”
She knew about my past. I could talk to her about the overdosing and the drug problems without lying or concealing. Part of me was a bit thrilled that I didn’t have to fake this with her. In our most vulnerable moments, both of us were open and free.
When she finished, I let her linger in the tub before running out of the room to find the blue robe she had left behind earlier that day. It was still sitting on the floor where she threw it after the scene. I picked up her soaking body that was now shivering from the temperature change and wrapped her in the downy fabric, rubbing to dry her body. I used gauze from the first-aid kit to wrap the wounds on her wrist, thighs, and knees and dabbed away some blood on her chin that the water missed.
After a few more chances at being sick, she fell asleep. I placed her gently on the couch, covering her with a green blanket that she liked to keep in the room. I thought back to her wrapped in it as she read a textbook or took notes. Today was quite a different scene with her weak, shaking body clinging to the hem of the blanket with her white knuckles.
I brushed her hair back from behind her ears as I sat beside her. As she faded away, she opened her mouth slightly before finally managing to get out a tired but true, “Thank you, Will.” Her eyes closed and her body sank into the sofa. Still, I didn’t leave her side.
From this moment on, I would never leave her side.
Chapter 26: The Getaway
Blood. Blood. Everywhere around me, there is blood. I’m swimming in it, practically drowning in it. It’s getting in my eyes, sticking between my toes. As its foreign metallic taste hits my tongue, I know I’m in danger. I’ve got to get out of this pool. I begin to swim, my legs and arms flailing by my sides. But as much as I try, I’m not getting anywhere. I’m just floating in a sea of red as the black and white sky above me counts the hours.
Someone is calling my name, “Kylie? Kylie? Come on now, you have to wake up.” A light flutters above me as the red begins to sink lower into the pool. The person with the voice is draining the water slowly and I’m coming up for air. I look for the source, but the bright light is blinding me in the process. And suddenly, I can’t decide what is worse – the burning light or the floating blood.
My eyes flickered open to the sound of Wilder pulling back the curtains. It took a moment for me to realize I wasn’t where I thought I was last. I wasn’t at the party with the leather couch in the musty smelling library. I wasn’t at my dorm room trying on new lingerie with Lana. I wasn’t even in my dressing room where my most recent memory faded in and out. I was at Wilder’s place, or what I thought was his place. I had never been.
But as I took a peek at everything, I could tell it was his space. Everything was black, gray, and whites from the area rug near the bed to the slick black dresser by the door. The downy comforter that covered my tightly wound body was the only pop of color – a cherry red. I kicked the comforter off of me as I suddenly felt so constricted by the weight of it.
Wilder heard me stir and turned in my direction. A smile crept slowly across his face, lighting up his blue eyes. He didn’t know what to say. Instead he ran his hand through his brown hair and held out a glass of water. I gladly took it, sucking it down. My mouth was so p
arched, I could drink a whole pitcher if he was offering. But instead, he grabbed a few white pills from the side table and placed them into my hand.
I looked at them, flashing back to the man trying to get me to take his stash while already knowing I had been given them against my will. I looked away, unsure if I could force those down, despite my head throbbing.
Wilder sat down next to me, sensing my reluctance. “It’s just a pain killer. Super mild. They give it to babies. I left the bottle out if you want to see it.” He reached over and handed me a blue box with a picture of a baby sleeping in a mother’s arms. Wilder really thought of everything.
I handed it back to him and then gladly took the pills. Anything to make the pain go away.
“Listen, we need to talk.” His voice was gentle, far from prodding. But a part of me still wanted to run. When I said I was done with him, I meant it. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you don’t want anything to do with me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you. I want to help you. Can you tell me what happened to you?”
I shook my head furiously. The last thing I wanted to do is tell him. He put a hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t pull away.