by West, Sam
She was only dimly aware of the wound, it didn’t really seem that important when compared to the sudden, unexpected turn her life had taken.
Esther was no longer being force-fed her own shit by her deranged husband. He was now talking animatedly on the phone and Esther was slumped forward with her forehead on the edge of the table, groaning softly. Bethan slithered into her chair and wrapped her arms around her chest, shivering violently.
“It’s Harlan he’s not coming tonight. He’s in France,” he said to Sebastian.
“What?” Sebastian all but spluttered, striding over to his friend. “Give me that, I want to talk to him.”
He reached for the phone but Richard twisted his heavy torso out of Sebastian’s reach. “What’s that you say? The blonde one? I don’t know, I’ll ask.” Richard turned to talk to Sebastian. “He wants to know if he can have some fun with one of the girls off the lorry.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Sebastian cursed, running his hands through his still perfectly-in-place hair. “No, he fucking can’t. Why’s he even there? Staff are supposed to be unloading them. We were supposed to all be going together.”
It struck Bethan how much he sounded like a whining little boy. Like the spoilt rich kid he really was. This was a man who had grown up knowing only money in the place of love. And now that unloved little boy was a cold bastard who needed to go to ridiculous lengths to feel even the smallest thing.
I’m the only person in the world who really understands him. He needs me.
Bethan didn’t feel right. She was confused and dazed. She knew that this was the wrong way to be thinking, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Richard listened some more to Harlan on the phone, then he covered the receiver with his hand to talk to Sebastian. “He says he really wants the one with the long, blonde hair.”
“For fuck’s sake, how many times? The whole point is that there are six of them. Three girls and three boys. He can’t go killing one, they’re all carefully chosen, it’s too short notice to find another.”
“No, dear brother, I’m sorry, you can’t, that wasn’t the deal,” Richard said into the mobile. You did what? Jesus Christ Harlan, you can’t go fucking this up for us.”
“What is it?” Sebastian asked desperately. “What’s the stupid cunt done?”
Richard’s face hardened. “Don’t talk about my brother like that.”
“Dick, please, what he’s done?”
Richard sighed heavily, relenting. “One of the girls was shot on the grounds of the château.”
Sebastian paled. “Which one?”
“Which one?” Richard asked into the phone, then, “Evangeline.”
Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief that tugged at Bethan’s heart. Who the fuck was Evangeline?
“Tell him that there’s one called Molly there, and if he so much as hurts a hair on her head I’ll cut off his balls and use them as earrings.”
That statement was enough to turn Bethan’s blood to ice. Facing the prospect of unimaginable torture and possible death was one thing. Another woman was quite another.
“Did you hear that?” Richard asked with a small smile. “The girl called Molly is Sebastian’s special plaything. You’ll leave her alone if you know what’s good for you.” He nodded his head before speaking once more. “Hmm, I see your point. I’ll call you back in five minutes, okay? I need to talk to Sebastian.”
“How badly injured is the girl?” Sebastian asked when Richard hung up.
“That, my dear boy, is entirely the point. It’s a bullet in the shin. She’s crippled before we even start.”
“Fucking idiot,” Sebastian said, his nostrils flaring.
“It wasn’t Harlan’s fault. She probably would’ve made a bolt for it regardless.”
“Oh come on, we both know that’s bollocks. If the staff had taken care of them as planned, it never would’ve happened. Harlan had to weigh in there and take over. The guests should never even have been fucking conscious when they were transported inside the château.”
All throughout the exchange, all Bethan could think was; Who the fuck is Molly?
“Who’s Molly? And Evangeline?” she asked in a small voice.
Both men turned to look at her incredulously like they couldn’t believe she had actually spoken.
“Your wife needs to learn some manners.”
“She will, don’t you worry about that. Are you jealous, Bethan?” he asked in a soft voice. “Because there’s no need to be. I promise that I’ll treat you differently to the others. You will have your wifely duties to perform. No one can replace you.”
She knew that she would have to be a space-cadet to be comforted by his words. But in a small way, she was.
As long as he loves me the best…
“I hate to break up the tender moment, but what should we do? Can Harlan have the girl or not?”
Sebastian scratched his chin thoughtfully. “She is damaged goods now. Shame, she was such a pretty girl. I guess he can have a bit of fun with her. He can’t kill her though, it will ruin the party numbers. But he can fuck her up pretty good, she doesn’t have to last the course. Maybe it will be fun to start the games with someone severely mutilated, add a bit of drama to proceedings.”
“I’ll tell him now,” Richard said, mobile in hand. “But he won’t be happy.”
“Just tell him all his dreams will come true when the party starts properly. We’ll be there in less than five hours.”
Bethan felt sick to her stomach. Not because her husband had just raped her, or the woman sitting opposite her had been forced to eat shit, or because Sebastian had stabbed her in the back in every sense of the word. No, she felt sick because her husband had developed feelings for another woman.
When she met this Molly, she was going to kill her.
9.
The heavy door swung shut and Molly and Harlan were plunged into darkness. Darkness and warmth. For the warmth at least, she was grateful. Her breathing sounded ragged and desperate, deafening to her own ears in the pitch black. She thought about making a break for it, of hurtling herself into the depths of the château.
There’s no point. I don’t know the layout. There are armed guards outside and my tied hands will slow me down.
Molly was just waiting for her chance, and she knew in her heart that this wasn’t it. Harlan crashed into something behind her, cursed, then everything was bathed in brilliant light. The light hurt her retinas and she was forced to squeeze her eyes tightly shut.
When her eyesight had sufficiently recovered, she took in her surroundings.
It was beautiful. Never had she seen such wealth, such opulence. They were stood in the hallway, and that alone was still bigger than any room she had ever been in before. The ornately carved ceiling was high enough to give her vertigo and a winding staircase led up to the open balcony-landing that ran the entire length of all four walls.
She didn’t have time to admire it for long.
“Move,” he barked, jabbing her in the ribs with his gun.
He steered her towards the first door on their left, which opened out into what she assumed was a ballroom. Even in the dark she could see that it was almost twice the size of the hallway. Harlan flicked a row of light-switches, and Molly gasped.
What a place, her head hurt taking it all in. Like the hallway, the ceilings were carved from white stone. Life-size, white statues of cherubs and naked women curved gracefully at the point the wall met the dizzyingly high ceiling. Huge, crystal chandeliers hung from the intricately carved stone roses. The space was longer than it was wide, and one wall was comprised almost entirely of long, gold-framed, thin mirrors, presumably so guests past could admire their pampered, privileged selves and the beautiful surroundings whilst they danced. The opposite wall had many floor to ceiling windows, each one separated by a full-size, gold statue of a naked women. She lost count of the windows after eight because the effect was dizzying and dazzling; so much gold, so much sp
arkle, so much fucking money.
“Do you like?”
“It’s overwhelming,” she answered honestly.
Now she could see him in a properly lit place, she was able to study him for the first time. He was handsome in a conventional way, if you were into the whole dark and brooding thing. Black hair flopped over his pale forehead and his physique and face were bulky, only just on the right side of fat. Everything about the strong lines and heavy features of his face spoke of aggression and a mean spirit. There was just something fundamentally evil about the firm looking, sulky, full mouth, the slight hook to the masculine line of his almost-too-large nose and the glint in his big brown eyes that should, by rights, look puppy dogesque, but instead seemed to reflect back at her a thousand infamies. The bulging, reddened scar that ran from the left-hand corner of his mouth up to his ear, like his face had once been split open, heaped more cruelty and danger onto his already frightening but arresting visage.
“Indeed it is overwhelming. You are very lucky to die in such beautiful surroundings. How many people get such an opportunity? Shall we sit? The guards will be bringing in the foolish girl in a minute.”
She hadn’t noticed straight away the long table running the centre of the room. Despite its size, it was lost in the vast and opulent surroundings. Unlike the rest of the room which was light and airy, the table was dark mahogany. Five, high-back chairs with wooden armrests lined either side, with one at the head of the table.
Eleven chairs.
She did a quick mental calculation. Six of them had been kidnapped and brought here. And there was this guy, Harlan. That left four free chairs. She doubted that was coincidence. This nightmare had been carefully planned out down to the last detail. Four more people were going to fill those seats.
Who the fuck else is coming to this fucking party?
In a daze she let herself be herded to the nearest seat at the end of the table. Her heart lurched hopefully when he spun her round and untied the ropes at her wrists. It felt so good to have her hands back again and she rubbed her chaffed wrists as she sat down. Harlan remained standing and pulled out a mobile phone from the inner pocket of his jacket.
“Dick! I’m in France…. I know, I know, I couldn’t wait, I had to be here to see the goods unloaded. And what a fine batch, I must say. One girl in particular has caught my eye. Maybe I could do her before you lot arrive? It’s the one with the long blonde hair…” He held the receiver away from his ear as if whoever on the other end of the line was shouting. “But why not? You can bring a replacement.”
He sighed heavily and stuck out his bottom lip while he listened to the person on the phone. Molly frantically cast her eye around for some kind of weapon while he was momentarily distracted. There was nothing. The table was bare and there were no other objects in the room; it wasn’t like she possessed super-human strength and could lob one of those gold statues at him.
“Okay, okay,” Harlan was saying. “And there’s something else. We’ve had a little accident. One of the girls made a break for it and got herself shot when we were walking up to the front door… Evangeline. Her name’s Evangeline.” He listened some more, then turned his attention back to her. “What’s your name?”
“Molly,” she whispered.
“Goddamn it! That’s a blow. But what about the shot girl? Can’t I have her? She’s damaged goods before we even start. Yeah, well, don’t take too long making up your mind. Call me back as soon as possible.” He pocketed the phone once more, his movements jerky and agitated. “Looks like you’re off the hook, Molly. Sebastian’s taken quite a shine to you.”
Who the fuck is Sebastian?
The wide, double doors to the ballroom burst open, and through it came the whimpering Evangeline held upright by one of the guards. He looked a real mean bastard. Heavy set, dressed in black, the rifle slung casually over one shoulder. His head was shaved and there was no compassion in his dead, dark eyes. He dragged her across the parquet floor with her knackered leg dragging uselessly behind her, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. The man and the shivering, crying girl stopped before Harlan.
“Thank you,” Harlan said, “just leave her with me. Keep watch outside, we don’t want any more nasty accidents like this one. Try to keep them all in one piece. In one hour you can bring them all in and set them up as you were instructed to do.”
The man nodded. “Very good, sir.”
“You’ll have to excuse me ladies,” Harlan said when the man had left the room. “I’m waiting on a phone call. And here it is now. Dick? So can I?”
He listened to the voice on the other end, nodding and frowning in concentration. Molly stared at the girl who had collapsed on the floor. Her leg was in a bad way. The poor thing was shivering in pain and her black trousers clung soggily to her misshapen, lower leg.
“See you soon,” Harlan said, dropping the phone back into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He shrugged it off and hung it over the back of the chair.
The tiniest glimmer of hope flickered in her mind. If she could just get hold of his phone and call the police…
Harlan saw where she was looking.
“On second thoughts…”
Shit! Way to go, Molly, you fucking idiot.
He picked up his jacket and strode over to the nearest window, draping the coat over the head of the gold statue.
Somehow I will get to that phone, you evil cunt.
He strode back over to them, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt as he did so.
“Evangeline, Evangeline, sweet, little Evangeline.”
He crouched down next to the girl and tenderly brushed a lock of short, blonde hair off her sweat beaded, white forehead. She looked like a natural blonde, complete with alabaster skin. But now she was so pale from blood loss she was almost see-through. Without warning he tugged on the lock of hair he had just seconds ago stroked so lovingly and ripped it free from her head. Her screams were re-ignited to an ear-splitting level, effortlessly filling the vast room.
“Hush, my precious.”
Tenderly, he stroked her blood streaked face. The blood ran over her forehead, into her eyes and gaping mouth. Molly wished she would stop screaming, she feared for her own sanity if she kept up that animal wailing.
“I did warn you.” From the pocket of his trousers he produced a penknife. “Always keep one on me like a good boy scout. I think if I cut just here it should stop the noise...”
Molly could barely hear him over the girl’s screams.
Abruptly, the screaming stopped.
He laughed. “That was lucky, could’ve done some real damage there if I’d missed.”
The penknife stuck out of the girl’s throat, embedded in her voice-box. Or at least, that’s what Molly assumed for she was no doctor. The girl’s eyes were wide with terror and her fingers hovered over the knife. Common sense had obviously prevailed enough for her to know that she might bleed out if she removed the weapon.
Molly had to avert her gaze to compose herself. She was close to throwing up and that wouldn’t help her or Evangeline’s situation whatsoever.
When she felt sufficiently recovered to look at them again, Harlan was cradling the girl in his arms, her back resting against his front. He got to his feet, effortlessly scooping her up under her armpits. She was only a small girl, and Harlan was a brute of a man. A life-size, wide-eyed doll with her dainty, ballet-pump clad feet swaying a few millimetres over the parquet.
Suddenly he spun her round and cradled her floppy body close to his. He waltzed like a pro across the ballroom, her toes inches above the ground.
Molly remained painfully aware of his discarded jacket with the mobile phone draped over the statue. But there was no way she could get to it; it was at least twenty paces away from where she sat and the arm around Evangeline’s waist held the gun.
“Tell me child,” Harlan said in a sing-song voice, “have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light?”
He laughed
loudly and spun her around with even more vigour. Molly felt sick to her stomach watching them, it was like a crazy, fucked up version of Beauty and The Beast. He was so big, she was so dainty and lifeless. Their reflections filled every mirror in turn, but it was seeing their ghostly reflections in the black glass of the row of windows that was disconcerting. She was watching a dead girl and she knew it.
You’re dead too, if you don’t get that phone.
The macabre couple waltzed up the table, where Harlan spun the girl round and bent her over the table opposite from Molly.
The girl’s gaze held all the life and vigour of a fish on a fishmonger’s slab. Her head was twisted in Molly’s direction but those dead eyes looked right through her. The knife remained sticking out of her throat and Molly wondered if she would bleed to death when the time came to pull it out.
Oh fuck, he’s going to rape her.
That thought was a sledgehammer in her mind, paralysing her. Harlan held the girl down on the table by the back of her head – not that he needed to for it was painfully obvious that the girl was going nowhere. With his free hand he swooshed his belt through his belt buckle and his trousers and underpants pooled at his feet.
Molly gasped at the sight of his cock. The thing was obscene, she had never seen anything like it. It was long and fat, the head of it bulbous. Not only that, but it veered dramatically to the left. The sheer size and weight of the monster appendage caused it to dangle downwards, despite being hard. It came to mid-thigh and her insides shrivelled just looking at it; a cock of such proportions and curvature could do a lot of damage. Especially to a petite girl like Evangeline; it was at least half the length of her torso.
Harlan ripped off the girl’s trousers, and Molly winced on her behalf when he yanked them down over her shattered shin and kicked her legs apart.
Harlan’s finger’s curled round the repulsive slab of meat and she watched him guide the head of the thing inside her.
Molly couldn’t see Harlan’s orifice of choice from the angle of her line of vision, and neither did she want to. Either way it was bad. But hadn’t she heard somewhere that, perversely, it was easier to take an oversized cock up the arse than the vagina, seeing as colons stretched on forever and wombs were easily ruptured…