by West, Sinden
He didn’t, and gently locked one cuff in place before securing my other wrist. Then he took a gun and holster from a bag that lay on the floor, before picking it up and starting up the stairs. I followed up the narrow steps and waited as he pushed two huge doors open. The bright sunlight was a shock to my eyes and I lifted my hands to shield them, tempted to retreat back down into the darkness of the bunker.
But Ryan wouldn’t let me, gripping my hand and pulling me up into the fresh air. The area was deserted. An old house sat to our left while a road was on the right, and led over a hill before disappearing from view.
“I don’t see him,” I said as Ryan pulled his keys from his pocket and threw them down next to the doors of the bunker.
“You will. It’s just a matter of time.” He stared intently at the screen of his cell phone, waiting. I thought briefly about running, but if this were truly in the middle of nowhere, as Aaron had told me so long ago, then I would need a better plan. I scanned the area, seeing fields and trees, and not much else. What was presumably Ryan’s pickup truck stood outside the house, a sharp contrast to the decay of the rotting house with its shiny red paint job. The sunlight caught the polished bumper, nearly blinding me for an instant, and I turned away, just in time to see dust rise over the horizon. Next we heard the sound of an engine carry over, but it was still a wait for the vehicle to come into view.
When it did, it was an old truck, one that I had seen before when he had come to see me after letting me go. My mouth twisted at the memory. It had been when he had paid me like a whore.
Ryan just watched, clutching his phone. His entire manner was calm but his knuckles told a different story; they were white, the skin stretched thin over them. There were guns in the bag beside him, but he wore only the one that he had taken before.
“Why aren’t you doing anything? Shouldn’t you be preparing?” I asked him, my heart beating hard and a sheen of sweat coming over me. I felt like I could faint.
He didn’t answer me and never took his eyes from the fast approaching vehicle. Aaron was going to slaughter him before he could even blink, and I nearly felt a pang of regret for that boy who had lost his family. Nearly, but not quite.
Finally, he acted, but all he did was to raise his cell phone up as if putting on a show. He gave a smile as in one dramatic action, he swiped his finger across the screen. For a moment, nothing happened.
And then it happened all at once.
Chapter Sixteen
The sound felt like it burst through my eardrums and then everything went silent. All I saw was the car flip through the air as dust, fire and smoke rose with it. Over and over, bouncing on the ground and lifting up again only to crash down once more, crushed against the earth and containing the man within.
I couldn’t move, not even a scream escaped my lips. I felt like I were holding my breath but couldn’t exhale if I wanted to. The wreckage of the car finally came to a stop and Ryan began to walk over to it, whistling slightly as he did so. I followed too. Not at first though, all I wanted to do was to run back into the safety of the bunker that was supposed to protect against devils and sins catching up with us.
But I had to see for myself. I had to see what was left.
As I got closer, I saw movement. A booted leg kicked at a broken window, clearing the sharp shards that acted like teeth, keeping the monster in. Ryan just stood above the truck and watched, still not touching his gun, as Aaron managed to crawl through the window, dragging himself with one arm.
Black and blood, a twisted useless arm, a running red mouth, and hand curved into the dirt to drag himself free: this was Aaron, at my feet, ruined and about to be executed. He managed to turn himself onto his back; he even sat, though it must have caused him even greater pain to do so. He was sucking in ragged breaths, wincing every time. For a second he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the sun in his last moments.
Then he opened his eyes and gave a slight laugh, spreading his cut lips into something like a smile and showing teeth that were still intact, just red. “I didn’t recognize you, kid,” he said to the still Ryan. Then his gaze crossed to me. “See, Rachel. I told you that I got sloppy when I was around you. I let him slip right past me, too worried about you being with another man to see anything else clearly.” He gave another laugh and blood flew from his lips, then he began to cough and more blood appeared.
“I’m glad you know why you’re here,” Ryan said quietly. “At least I know that you never forgot, not really.”
“I don’t forget any of them,” Aaron rasped. That coughing had stopped and now he struggled for breath.
“I wanted your girlfriend to see what you were, to know what you were.”
“Am,” interjected Aaron, “I still am that person. Nothing’s changed, there’s no regret in me for what I did. Your father deserved what I did to him, and when your crazy ass militant family came after me with weapons, yeah I killed them. Why wouldn’t I? They would have strung me up to the nearest tree just to watch me dance. I know what you people are like, only blood will ever satisfy you and that crazy devotion you all had to your old man. He wasn’t a prophet or god in waiting like he had you all believing, he was just a crazy asshole who didn’t want to follow the rules. He took what he wanted and fucked with anyone who got in his way, including my mother. My only regret, kid, is that I didn’t torture him more before he died.”
Ryan’s hands were shaking and his face pale as he pulled out his gun. “Goodbye, Aaron. I hope you see Meredith’s face when I kill you.”
Aaron laughed. “All I think about is how she pulled a shotgun on me. Her rage made her miss and I wasn’t about to give her a second chance.”
Ryan shook his head. “You’re scum, just like your father and your mother,” he began to raise the gun, slowly as if this were his own way of torment.
It didn’t take much for me to be behind him. If he heard me, he didn’t bother to turn, and that was his mistake. I brought my cuffed hands over his head and down to his throat, pulling him hard against me. He struggled, knocking me from my feet but I still didn’t let go, I couldn’t.
“Rachel, hold on!” Aaron yelled to me. My wrists felt like they were being cut as I used all my might to keep the pressure on his throat. The sounds were terrible and I knew that I wouldn’t forget them anytime soon. Ryan kicked and hit me and the blows had me cry out in pain, but I still didn’t let go.
Aaron dragged himself toward where we struggled. In the corner of my eye, I saw him grab a knife that was strapped to his ankle. In a few short moments, he had that knife in his hand and he stabbed quickly at Ryan’s chest and I closed my eyes and never let up my hold, even when all movement ceased.
“Rachel, let him go,” Aaron said. I opened my eyes, he lay on the ground, trying to catch his breath, and Ryan wasn’t moving any longer. Slowly I looped my arms back over his head, trying to avoid looking at where he lay. There was so much blood on the ground, pooling into the earth forever.
I was quick getting to my feet. Keys, I needed the keys. I broke into a run toward the bunker entrance where he had thrown the keys earlier. They still lay there, and I went for the smallest one. The cuffs opened easily and I threw them from me, rubbing my aching wrists. There was some blood and torn skin from the struggle, and no doubt giant bruises would blossom through my skin as an ugly reminder of what my life was.
I walked slowly back to where Aaron lay, still clutching the keys.
“Rachel, is his cell phone still in one piece? I need you to call Antony.” His face was screwed up with pain and he looked white like he would faint. He lay on his back, eyes squeezed shut. The shiny cell lay on the ground a few feet away, but I didn’t reach for it. Instead, I picked up the gun.
“Did you do it?” My words snapped out of me harshly.
His eyes opened and he raised his head a little. “Do what?”
I swallowed, scared that I would lose the courage. “Did you kill my friends? The only ones I’ve ever had.
Did you kill Mara and Torrance?” My voice wavered with emotion.
His good eye stared straight at me with that intensity that once would have made me cower, but not anymore. “No.”
I waited for him to continue, to protest his innocence, but he said nothing further.
“You’re a fucking liar, Aaron,” I said in a low voice that was slow and succinct. “You’re a scourge. You deserve to live a cursed life. I would wish a thousand Ryans on you, each one of them torturing you over and over again for the rest of your life.” He didn’t move, it was like he wasn’t even breathing. That one open eye didn’t even blink. “In spite of yourself, you’re going to fall in love with someone one day. I think you forget that you’re only human, it’ll probably be some holier than thou woman like that Azalea bitch. You’ll be consumed by her, and when you are, I’m going to torment you. I’ll kill the bitch and make you watch.”
“I told you I didn’t do it,” he said softly.
“And I told you that you’re a fucking liar.” I pointed the gun straight at him. It would have been so easy to pull the trigger and fire a shot into his already beaten body.
There was no surprise in his eyes. “Do it,” he said calmly. “If it will bring you peace or happiness, do it.”
I shook my head at him; I felt like crying. “That’s the problem though. It won’t.”
“Then put the gun down, Rachel. Let’s start over. Let’s—”
“No.” I turned, and threw the gun as far as I could. “I hope you fucking die,” I hissed as I looked back at where he lay. Wordlessly, he watched me. Jangling the keys in my hand, I walked over to the only intact vehicle in the place and opened the door, climbing into it and firmly slamming it shut behind me. The interior to Ryan’s truck was leather and smelt new, and it started straight away when I turned the key in the ignition.
If Aaron called out to me, I didn’t hear him. I just put my foot down on the accelerator and began to drive, increasing the speed and the cloud of dust left behind me. The landscape whooshed by me and not one single time did I look in the rear view mirror to see the man that I had left lying there.
It felt like my head was a mess of static, so many crazy thoughts rushing through my brain all at once. I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I just drove along the dusty country roads as fast as I could. The truck bounced over dips and the holes in the ill kept roads while I kept an eye on the precariously low fuel tank. Ryan’s wallet, an expensive piece of leather, lay on the passenger seat with a few hundred dollar bills stuffed in it. That would be enough for a while, but after that I’d need a new plan.
I also needed to ditch this truck. Someone would come looking for Ryan sooner or later, and I didn’t want to get caught with it or have to answer any more questions. It was a few more miles before I saw signs of civilization. A faded sign advertised a truck stop further up the road and I pulled the truck well off the road so it wouldn’t be noticed at first. Grabbing the cash from the wallet, I left the keys in the truck, hoping that someone would steal it.
By the time I reached the truck stop, I was a sweating mess. It was a hot day and I would have killed for a shower. My clothes were dirty, and the blood dark enough to pass for something else if anyone asked. The waitress gave me a weird look as I walked through the door. I ignored her and headed straight for the bathroom.
A single bulb lit the dirty room that may have once been white. I locked the door behind me and tried to wash my face and hands. The water ran red and brown with Ryan’s blood, and I felt nothing as I watched it run down the drain. Smoothing my hair back away from my face, I tried not to think of Aaron, I tried not to care.
Once I was semi presentable, I sat down at a table. The place was deserted except for a man who must have been a truck driver because there was only one huge truck outside. The waitress came over to me and I ordered coffee and eggs.
“Have you been in an accident?” she asked, almost accusingly. My first instinct was to tell the nosy bitch to fuck off, but then I remembered, I was looking after myself now. There was no mother or Aaron to look after me. I was responsible for me, and charm would get me a hell of a lot further than being rude.
“No, my boyfriend kicked me out of the car. Can you believe that? He put me out on some dusty road in the middle of nowhere. I’ve been walking for hours.”
The waitress tut-tutted sympathetically. She had what may have been the yellowing remains of a bruise on her skin and looked like she was the kind of person who understood about asshole boyfriends. As she walked away to put in my order, I noticed the truck driver staring at me intently. I looked down to see if I had anything else that looked like blood on me, but all I saw was my cleavage and smiled knowingly. This guy was just another motherfucking pervert.
But he had a vehicle and I needed a ride. I raised my eyes to him and gave him a sweet smile. He didn’t smile back, instead just averted his eyes like he’d been caught doing something wrong. He was fat with an unshaven round face and the thought of him touching me made my skin crawl. But still, I’d had worse.
The waitress brought his food and he began to eat, still keeping his head down as he shoveled it into his mouth.
When she brought mine, I ate very little. My appetite was diminished and food wasn’t important to me. Instead, I drank my coffee, burning my mouth and welcoming the pain. When I saw him getting out his wallet and pulling out some cash to put on the table, I did the same, following him out but keeping my distance.
When I saw him climb up onto the truck, I sprang into action, pulling my top down low to show off my breasts and rolling up the top to present my flat stomach.
“Hey,” I called out to him as I jogged toward him. He paused, his eyes brushing over my body before reaching my face.
“You all right, girly?”
“No,” I stood in front of him, breasts out, hands in my back pockets. “I had a fight with my boyfriend, I need a ride.”
He gave a nod, and then wiped some sweat from his forehead. “You know, I’d like to help a pretty girl like you out, but I’m no charity and, well, nothings free if you get what I—”
I gave a huff of irritation, my patience dying. “I get what you mean perfectly,” I snapped out. “I’ve been speaking the language of revolting perverts like you since as far back as I can remember. You give me a ride and at some stage I’ll wrap my hand around your little penis and give you the best hand job you’ve ever had. Now, are we going or not?”
His mouth dropped open but he quickly recovered. “Well, if you put like that…” he nodded his head toward the cab. “Hop in.”
I climbed up into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. I scanned around for Aaron just in case by some miracle he had managed to follow me, but there was no sign of him. My hand curled into a fist, the nails digging in deep to the palm of my hand. Part of me wanted to kill him, but the other part of me wanted him to follow me. Although I knew he couldn’t, he was badly injured and had no vehicle. Maybe he would die. Maybe there were internal injuries and he wouldn’t have lingered much longer. Maybe I should have shot him just to put him out of my misery.
Soon, I was distracted by the fat hand stroking at my thigh. Here was another piece of shit to deal with. That was okay. I was used to it.
I shoved the hand aside. “Don’t get distracted. I’ll make sure you get what you want when we stop, not before, and until then, no touching.”
To my surprise, he did what I said, removing his hand.
“What’s your name?” he asked, almost warily.
I took a breath and forced my lips into the best sultry smile that I could muster. “Hannah,” I told him.
Chapter Seventeen
Ewen the truck driver was a sweaty pig of a man. He reminded me of a round barrel with his enormous beer gut stretching out in front of him. When we slept in the bed in the back of his cab, he took up all the room, squashing me against the side. But I didn’t feel trapped. I felt free, and mean.
The first few
nights I lay under him and he panted and snorted away while he thrust into me. Passive and unmoving, I just lay there and stared at the ceiling as if he were no more than an annoyance. But then I decided that things needed to change. I needed to be in control.
I would make him strip off all his clothes so he was naked because he looked more vulnerable like that, a hairy flabby pathetic man. We would play a game where he wasn’t allowed to move. His hands had to remain by his sides, nor was he permitted to arch his groin up as I kneeled over his legs.
“Look at this tiny thing.” I would reach forward and take hold of the ugly piece of flesh that lurked under the obscene stomach. Between thumb and forefinger, I would pull it, trying to lengthen it. “Who could this ever satisfy?” The little dick would become harder at my mean words and cruel touch, then I would slap it because it annoyed me that this gave him pleasure. He would wince and sometimes cry out, depending on how hard I did it, and on how mean I felt that day.
Ewen liked pain. He liked being humiliated and demeaned. In public, when we stopped at truck stops for greasy meals, he would slap my ass like he owned me. But when we were in private, I would make him lie on his stomach and smack at his saggy white ass until it turned red and he began to howl and beg me to stop. Sometimes, I would place a plastic glove over my hands and smear lubricant over the tips of my fingers. As I touched my now cold fingers to his opening, he would tense.
“It’s only going to hurt more unless you relax,” I mocked, but I wouldn’t give him a chance, shoving my fingers up him as he gasped and gurgled. I felt like I owned him this way, like I had my own little doll to play with and torment. But someone like Ewen wouldn’t break. He loved this and it wasn’t really punishment. I tried to think up increasingly mean things to do to him as we drove along long stretches of road.