by ML Ross
“Stop! Stop hitting me, woman! Fuck! I’m not gonna hurt you.”
I continue to kick and scream until I exhaust all of my energy and my body eventually goes limp. I feel hot, like I’m burning up. My hair is damp and sticking to my neck. I’m trying desperately to stay conscious as my breaths escape in short spurts.
“Hey now, calm down. I’m not gonna fucking hurt you.” He says in a deep, raspy voice. “You’re badly hurt and you need to lay back down.” He gently stretches my legs back out and pulls the sheet back over my body. He hovers over me and I see him reach up and unlock the handcuffs. He lifts my arm and massages my wrist where the metal dug into my skin and lays my arm over my stomach. My eyes keep trying to close but I’m scared out of my mind. My body continues to shake and I barely have enough energy to breathe but I force myself to stay alert. “You were in an accident. I didn’t see you. The road was slick and I couldn’t stop. I think you just sprained your arm and tore up your legs. Your ribs are bruised. I don’t think anything’s broken but you need to rest.”
“It hurts so bad.” I whisper.
“I know. Here.” He reaches for one of the bottles on the nightstand.
“No!! Please no!!”
“Hey, it’s only pain medication. It’s okay. It’s Vicodin. It won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t want any drugs.” I start to panic again as I realize the situation I’m in. He’s big, at least 6’5 and a solid 220 pounds of muscle. He wears a faded black t-shirt that stretches tight across his chest and a gray skull cap over his over grown hair that hangs in his eyes and he has at least a week of hair on his face. His eyebrow is pierced with a small hoop. He is scary as hell. There is no way I can fight him off.
I love horror movies but right now as I glance at the prescription bottles, the knife and the medical supplies, I can’t help think about the movie Human Centipede, and I am freaking the fuck out!
He blows out a long frustrated breath and shakes his head. “Listen. I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I could have left you there bleeding on the side of the road but I couldn’t!”
“Please!! Please let me go, I just want to go home!.....please?” I whimper. My throat is dry and raspy from screaming.
He runs his fingers through his hair pulling on the ends in frustration. “Fuck!” He yells. “I can’t let you go. I’m in trouble and I can’t take that risk.”
“Please, I won’t tell. I never even saw you. Please, I just want to go home.” I beg.
“Uhhhh. This is so fucked up!” He shouts. I flinch, thinking he might hit me. “Your fucking car is in a ditch off Route 50. The police have probably already found it. Your car is messed up. They’ll know you didn’t walk away from that accident by yourself. They probably have already linked your disappearance with me. God dammit!!!” He’s yelling at me and I am terrified. I try to curl up again but I have no energy so I feel helpless and hopeless as I lay there struggling not to pass out. I start to feel bile rise up in my throat and I quickly try to sit up as I start gagging and the tears start to fall again. He grabs the small wastebasket in the room and holds it under my chin helping me lean over it as I release the small amount of food I had left in my stomach. I continue to dry heave as my ribs start to burn. My tears are mixing with the snot running from my nose and the vomit now dripping from my chin.
“Oh God. It hurts. It hurts so bad.” I moan.
“I’ll be right back.” He sets the wastebasket down and runs out of the room. I hear water running and then he’s back. He runs a warm washcloth over my face. “This is just Vicodin, it will help you feel better. It’s my foster brother’s grandfather’s stuff. This is his place. Please take it.” He pours out two tablets into his hand. “I’ll get you water, hold on.” He runs back out of the room and returns with a bottled water. “Open.” He says holding the two pills to my lips. I stare into his eyes with my lips tightly closed. “Open!” He demands. I’m desperate for relief. I have no other choice, I decide I have to trust him. I open my mouth slightly and he slips the pills in and then holds the bottled water to my mouth washing the pills down my throat. He helps me drink the rest of the water. The cold liquid feels like heaven coating my scratchy throat.
“Lay down. You need to rest your ribs.” I slowly lower myself back down keeping my eyes on him. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says angrily. “You need to rest and let the medicine help with the pain. Your ribs need to heal. I’ll leave you alone, okay? So you can sleep.” I don’t say a word. He stares at me for a second, shakes his head and then walks out of the room. I lay there with my eyes wide open trying to stay awake. The room slowly darkens as the sun goes down and my eyelids become just too heavy. The medication has me feeling too relaxed and I’m exhausted. I just can’t stay awake any longer.
Hours must pass because when I wake, there is a slight glow lighting the room from the sun coming up through the trees. I slowly sit up and listen for movement. It’s completely silent. I creep out of the bed wincing from the pain in my ribs and legs. I slide the sling off of my arm. It hurts but not too bad. I’m still in my underwear and tank top so I look around the room for something to throw on but I don’t want to make any noise so I forget about it. I tip toe across the room trying not to make the wood planks under my feet squeak. The door is slightly ajar so I try to squeeze through without moving it. I almost make it. The door moves slightly and I stay completely still, squeezing my eyes shut but it doesn’t make a noise. I continue to move slowly towards the front door, looking around for any movement. Then, I see him.
He sits on the chair in front of the fireplace with his legs spread wide, head thrown back. He has a wrinkle on his forehead like he’s having a bad dream. He doesn’t look as scary while he is sleeping. My heart beats erratically as I stand there frozen just watching him. I contemplate whether I should hit him over the head with something and try to knock him out. I notice the lamp on the end table next to the chair and think about using that to hit him with but I can’t bring myself to do it. Next to the lamp, I see a newspaper opened to the second page and I immediately recognize the picture. It’s the same picture from Kate’s article about Ryan Jenson. I take one step closer to get a better look, holding my breath, trying not to make a sound. I can hear his breathing but he hasn’t moved. The article has details of the gruesome murders of Sophie Carsen and Mia Knoll. There are pictures of both girls. They are both beautiful. I skim the information on the page quickly. Both girls were found naked and mutilated in a wooded area within 3 miles of the Western Colorado campus. They were both brutally attacked and tortured with a knife until they bled to death. There is evidence that they were tied up. They both had drugs in their system. The article goes on to talk about Kim Sawyer and how she barely escaped her death. There is no picture of her. She too was drugged, strung up, beaten and carved up with a knife and left to bleed to death in the same wooded area. She claims Ryan Jenson was her best friend for 6 years and that she thinks he just snapped. She stated that he was having trouble coping with the death of his parents and turned to alcohol and sex. As I’m skimming the article, I see movement. I stand perfectly still and look towards the chair. Then, I see it. The tattoo. The same tattoo in the picture. He looks different, but his eyes, his eyes are the same. It’s him.
I don’t even think. I react. I am terrified. I run. I turn the deadbolt and swing the door open. I run as fast as my legs take me through the snow in my underwear and bare feet. I have no idea in which direction I am running. I just run. I don’t even feel the cold. I see the fog coming out of my mouth as I breathe the cold air in and out of my lungs. I think I’m on a road. It’s covered in snow but I can see the dirt underneath. My bare feet are hitting the ground hard and I feel small pebbles getting lodged into my skin but I keep running. All of a sudden I’m tackled to the ground. I start to scream as loud as I can but a hand covers my mouth. I try to bite his hand but he doesn’t even flinch. I’m lying on my stomach. He’s straddling my legs and my arms so I can’t move. I feel
him lean over my body and whisper into my ear. “Shhhhh….I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. You’re freezing. I’m going to carry you back into the cabin so we can talk.” He lifts me up holding my back to his chest with his strong arm wrapped around both my arms and my waist. His other hand is still over my mouth. I try to kick my legs but they are exhausted from running and he’s too strong. I must not have run that far, because it doesn’t take him long to get us back inside. He uncovers my mouth, shuts and locks the door and takes me back to the bed. I don’t have the energy to scream but I hear sounds coming out of my mouth that are more like whimpers. He drops me on the bed causing me to bounce while he quickly grabs my wrist and locks it into the handcuff. He jumps back from the bed as I try to kick at him and continue crying.
He’s going to be so mad. He’s going to try to drug me or beat me so I can’t try to escape again. As I’m struggling against the handcuff, my eyes lock on the knife on the nightstand. My heart beats out of my chest and my eyes are wide with fear. He’s going to drug me and then carve me up like those other girls.
“I know who you are, you sick bastard! I know what you did to those girls!” I scream. I keep pulling on the handcuff but I realize it’s useless. It’s not coming off and it’s hurting my wrist. I feel hopeless. I stop pulling and kicking and try to breathe. I curl up into a ball and cry, begging him over and over to please not hurt me and to please let me go.
“Can you please listen to me? Please? I don’t want to hurt you. I swear.” I continue to rock myself back and forth begging him not to hurt me. “Can you please just listen to me?” His voice is deep and raspy but right now there is a gentleness that makes me stop and listen to him. I sniffle as I try to stop crying and get my breathing under control. I lay still curling into myself, hiding my face in the mattress.
“What’s your name?”
“Vanessa.” I gasp each syllable.
“Vanessa, I know you’re scared. I had no intention of getting you involved in this shit. Listen to me okay. I didn’t fucking hurt those girls. It wasn’t me.”
“I saw your picture. Your girlfriend identified you.”
“I know! I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. I tried to talk to her and she wouldn’t talk to me. I have no fucking idea why she would say I did that to her. She was my best friend. Everyone thinks it was me. They have witnesses. It fucking wasn’t me! I’ve been holed up in this tiny fucking cabin in the middle of nowhere for the last month trying to figure out what the hell is going on but I still have no clue. I can’t go anywhere or I’ll be recognized and I can’t call anyone because I don’t know who to trust.” He glances up at me as I am still cowering. “Shit! You don’t believe me do you?” He asks shaking his head.
“I don’t know what to say.” I turn my head to look at his face. His expression is filled with torment. He knows I can’t fight back but he hasn’t tried to hurt me or touch me. He seems sincere.
“If I were a rapist or murderer, why would I pull you from a car wreck and bring you here? I could have left you there to die. I could have raped you while you were unconscious. I could do anything I want to you right now! I fucking gave you pain meds!”
“I woke up handcuffed to the bed and my pants are gone.” I deadpan. I realize that this is exactly what I wished for the other day. Only under much different circumstances.
“I didn’t fucking touch you! I handcuffed you because I didn’t know when you were going to wake up and I couldn’t let you run or kill me in my sleep! Your pants are gone because you had some pretty nasty cuts on your legs. Your jeans were shredded. I had to cut them off so I could clean out the cuts. In fact, I think one of the cuts has an infection and you should take an antibiotic. You look like your burning up. I need to clean it again too. Will you let me? Or are you going to hit me?”
I don’t know why I trust what he’s telling me but I can see it in his eyes. They are piercing blue. Hypnotic. I see a bit of vulnerability in them. I’m so stupid. I’m the perfect victim. I think I have that Stockholm syndrome. I nod my head, giving him permission. Yes, touch me.
He sits beside me with a bottle of peroxide, a tube of ointment and a bag of cotton balls. He pulls the sheet off of my legs keeping his eyes on mine. I’m just in my plain white underwear and a wife beater tank top. They are both filthy, like I rolled around on the dirty pavement. Right. I did. I wonder where my bag is. My phone? He dunks the cotton ball in the peroxide and starts to reach towards my thigh.
“This might sting a little.” I feel his big, warm hand touch my upper thigh and push it slightly, spreading my legs. My lips part slightly from the unexpected tingle that spreads through my body. I watch him as he swabs the cotton ball on my leg. He touches the tip of his tongue to his top lip as he concentrates on cleaning my cut. I immediately imagine that tongue on me. In my mouth, on my breasts, between my legs. Oh God, my panties are damp now. I wonder if he can see it or smell my arousal. His face is so close to my thigh as he tends to my wound. My thoughts are interrupted as the peroxide soaks into my cut. My leg flinches away from his touch and I cry out from the burn.
“Sorry. I’m going to put some of this antibiotic cream on it and it should start to feel better. Hold still.” His fingertip swirls the cold cream over my cut and it already starts to feels better. I close my eyes as he pats my leg and pulls the sheet back over me. He leans over to the nightstand and pours two more pills out of one of the bottles. “Take this. It’s just an antibiotic. It will kill the infection. How’s your arm?”
“It’s just sore. How do you know so much about this sort of stuff?”
“I was majoring in cell biology and pre-med at Western Colorado. I know a little.”
That surprises me. He’s smart. He’s really smart. He saved my life. He’s also wanted for murder. I take a moment to really study his profile as he’s putting away the antibiotics. He’s handsome. He needs a haircut and a shave but his eyes are beautiful. I shift my eyes down his body. He’s big and muscular. I suddenly have a vision of those arms wrapped around me, protecting me. I believe he won’t hurt me. “Thanks. Thanks for not leaving me in the road and thanks for taking care of me.”
He nods his head. “Listen, I think you should rest and let your body heal. When you wake up, you can take a shower and I’ll get you something to eat. Good?”
“Can you uncuff me?” I pull my wrist, clanking the cuffs against the iron headboard.
He looks unsure. “Yeah, I can do that.” He reaches over and unlocks the cuff. I pull my wrist down and massage it. The pain medicine is already working again. My body is feeling pretty numb. I’m not consumed with the fear I was earlier. He already had plenty of opportunity to hurt me and so far he has only helped me. I let my heavy eyelids start to close but I can feel him still there. He’s watching me. Instead of fear, calmness washes over me and I feel instant relief on my dry eyes as I close them and drift off.
Chapter 5 -Ryan
I watch her fall asleep and realize that she must trust me. At least a little. A smile tries to force its way on my face even though it’s been over a month since I had anything to smile about. I know I’m still in trouble and in even more trouble because of her but somehow having her here is making everything so much easier to deal with. I’ve been hiding for over a month. 33 days of me alone with my thoughts, obsessed with updates on the news. Newscasters discussing my whereabouts and repeating the gruesome details of the murders and attempted murder of my best friend Kim. Vanessa’s like an angel that was dropped down from the sky to add some light to my darkness.
I close the door and resume my spot on the chair in front of the fireplace and think about her. I must be one sick fuck because as I sit here with my head thrown back in the chair, legs spread, I conjure up the image of her cowering in that bed in her underwear making those scared whimper noises with her wrist handcuffed to the bed. Her blonde hair a tangled mess sticking to her moist skin. Her lips full and pink. I close my eyes and think of her soft pale skin under my finge
rtips and my dick is instantly straining against my zipper again. I slouch further down on the chair, unfastening my jeans. I pull them down past my hips and grip my cock. It’s painfully hard. I imagine her begging me to fuck her while she’s restrained to the bed. Her legs spread wide for me, looking at me with those big green eyes. I start stroking myself slowly as I envision crawling up her body and slipping inside her while her eyes close slowly as I enter her. She makes little sounds that cause my fist to pump harder. I’m pounding into her and she’s screaming my name over and over. I start thrusting my hips into my hand as I see her arching her body into mine. With a loud groan, I release into my hand. I milk myself as I slow my breathing and then open my eyes and turn towards the bedroom door. It’s still closed. I pull my pants up with one hand, leaving them unfastened and wash my hands in the kitchen sink. Holy shit. I feel so much better.
I sit back in the chair and close my eyes for a couple of hours and wake in a panic. I look behind my shoulder at the closed bedroom door and pray she didn’t leave while I was asleep. The police could be on their way for all I know. I creep over to the door holding my breath and open it slowly.
She lays there staring at the wall. Her eyes are swollen and wet. I know she’s scared and wants to go home. I can’t let her. I’d go to prison.
She turns her head toward me. She must have sensed me watching her. Her eyes roam down my bare chest and then further down and her eyes widen. I follow her gaze and realize I never fastened my pants. They just hang off my hips unbuttoned with the zipper down.
I can’t even explain why they’re like that. I just fasten them and pretend it never happened. She watches me and licks her lips and I swear I see desire in her eyes.