Meet Me In The Dark: (A Dark Suspense)

by J. A. Huss

  “You said yes. You said, ‘Fuck me.’”

  “I said, ‘Fuck me then. Or kill me. I don’t really care. Do whatever you want.’”

  I reach down and grab her arm, then pull her up to her feet, making her stand naked before me in the light. If she’s embarrassed, she doesn’t show it. “Then you shouldn’t have said it, wildcat. Because I take everyone at their word.”

  She wants to growl at me for using that word, I can tell. But she can’t. And I know why she can’t. Maybe she knows too, or maybe she doesn’t know. No difference. I’m about to find out one way or another. “Hush,” I say. She stares up at me and her scowl softens. “Do you know what that means?”

  “It means shut up.”

  “Hush,” I say again. And this time she squints her eyes in confusion. “How about now?” She puts one hand over her stomach, like she feels sick, while the other one comes up to push against her temple. I have syringes in my pocket—low-dosage sedation to keep her calm, but not put her out. More than one, just in case the dose is too low or I need more time.

  “Wildcat,” I say. She blinks and appears confused. I check her compliance. “Give me your arm.”

  She looks up at me, still fighting, but she’s losing. She’s lost, actually. “Hush,” I say one more time, and there it is. She presents me with her arm like a gift. I grab hold of her bicep and squeeze tighter than is probably necessary. She holds still this time. But I’m not convinced this isn’t all an act. I jab her with the needle and push the plunger until the drugs empty into her muscle.

  It’s gonna take a while. So I lead her over to the fireplace and lay her down. She does not move.

  I walk back outside the room, flip open the fireplace partition, and then return, turning off the light and closing the door behind me. She’s still on the rug, facing the flames. “Does it feel good?” I ask her.

  She doesn’t answer. I tug my shirt over my head and lie down on the rug next to her, pulling her into my arms and holding her close. She sighs.

  Fucking women are so easy. So weak when it comes to men. I’ve always had this advantage. I’ve yet to have a woman turn me down for a good hard fuck.

  I’m dangerous. I’m big in every way that counts. And I’ve got moves that will make them beg me for more while cursing my name.

  I palm Sydney’s breast. It’s firm, but squishy. Not fake. But they are near perfect in my eyes. How she got away with never sleeping with that husband-to-be of hers is beyond me. If she was mine, I’d just take her ass. Literally and figuratively.

  “Let’s start at the beginning, Sydney. OK?”

  She nods against my chest.

  “Only this time, cowgirl, I’m gonna tell you what happened and you’re going to listen. OK?”

  “OK,” she says back.

  “Compassion sends mixed signals. If it’s real, it can lead to survival. Just be damn sure it’s real.”

  – Sydney

  Am I awake?

  “Are you awake?” he asks me back. Only I didn’t think I was talking.

  Do you read minds?

  “Do you read minds?”

  I blink as I stare at the fire. Am I alone?

  “You’re not alone, Sydney. I’m right here. Feel me?” He takes my hand and tugs my arm at a weird angle behind my back until I feel skin. But not my skin. “I asked you a question, Sydney. Do you feel me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He leans into my neck. I’m on the floor. No. A rug. In front of a fire. I stare at the dancing flames. He’s behind me and we’re naked. No. He’s got jeans on. “Do you know where you are?”

  I do.

  “Sydney. I’m not going to ask every question twice, so answer me the first time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the hush.” Wait. What?

  “What’s the hush?”

  That’s a good question.

  His hand wraps around my throat and squeezes until I cough. “No second chances, Sydney. Pay close attention to me. Tell me what the hush is.”

  “The quiet place. That’s where I meet him.”

  “Who?” His tone has changed. It’s more urgent now. He squeezes my throat again, only this time he doesn’t stop until my head falls forward and I’m gasping for air instead of coughing.

  “Garrett,” I say, taking a long draw of air. “My neck is burning.” I try to reach up and massage it, but Case grabs my hand tightly and puts it back on his stomach, still at that weird angle that stretches my shoulder enough to make it painful because of the wound that hasn’t healed yet.

  “Your neck is burning because I choked the breath out of you. It’s a way to keep you focused. How did Garrett keep you focused?”

  “Fishing,” I say. “And camping.”

  “No, Sydney. That’s not how he did it.”

  “He made me so happy.”

  Case draws in a long breath behind me, blowing it out over my neck. It feels good. “I’m gonna tell you what Garrett really did, Sydney. And you’re going to listen very carefully as I explain. And then you’re gonna tell me if I’m right. Do you understand?”

  “You killed him. You took him away from me.”

  “I wish.” Case laughs. And that laugh scares me. My legs begin to tremble and my shoulder is on fire. “That night at the cabin when I said I owned you. Do you remember that night?”

  “Yes. Garrett saved me from you.” Case mumbles out some words behind me, but I don’t catch them. “What?”

  “He didn’t save you. The helicopter did. And if my friend hadn’t been in trouble I’d have finished. There was no saving you that night, let’s just get that straight right now. Because this is what happened, Sydney. He drugged you. He took you somewhere far away from other people. And he brainwashed you.”

  I stare at the flames and think about this.

  “Do you know what he did in the army, Sydney?”

  “Garrett was in the army?” I try to picture Garrett as a patriot, but that just makes me laugh.

  The hand is around my throat again, but I struggle against Case this time. I wiggle free of his grasp and lean my head into the rug as I catch my breath again. “Stop it,” I say.

  “Pay attention. And answer my question.”

  I nod my head, but it’s very heavy. My head is spinning, but it’s weird. Not the same as before. “I don’t know what he did in the army.”

  “He was a PSYOP specialist, Sydney. Do you know what they do?”

  “No.” I answer quickly now. I get it. Case has got something to say and he just wants to talk. My job is to listen and answer his questions.

  I can do that.

  “They fuck with people’s heads. They learn lots of ways to influence people into doing what they want. Some call it torture. Some call it interrogation. I did this too, Sydney. That’s how I have you in this cabin right now. That’s how I’ve managed to kill more people than I can even count. That’s how I get away when others get caught.”

  I don’t have anything to say to this, so I stay silent.

  “Garrett’s been working you since that day he took you from the cabin eight years ago. Maybe before that too. He drugged you. Took you away, fucked with your head, and made you into his little slave.”

  My mind spins again and I try to get up. But Case’s arms are all the way around me now, hugging me to his chest tightly. “Hush,” he says.

  I do hush. I quiet right down.

  “That’s your trigger word. And wildcat wasn’t a nickname, was it?”

  “No.”

  “What does it mean, Sydney? That word wildcat?”

  My eyes close as I think. Wildcat.

  Garrett is laughing as I kneel. He’s fisting my hair, yanking me down in front of him. My eyes never leave him. I couldn’t rip my gaze away even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.

  Because I know what happens.

  “That’s not it.”

  “What’s not it, Sydney?”

  My he
ad clears a little and I take a deep, deep breath.

  “Sydney,” Case says, almost whispering it in my ear. “Tell me.” His hand slips away from my neck and falls to my breast. He doesn’t squeeze, he caresses it. Softly. Like that feather he had. It’s soft.

  His lips flutter against my cheek and I realize he’s kissing me. I turn into it and kiss him back. His face is scratchy. Not a beard, but not clean-shaven either. He turns my whole body until I’m facing him.

  “Syd,” he says.

  “Don’t call me that,” I whisper back, lifting my eyes a little so I can see his. The fire is dancing inside them, mesmerizing me for a moment. Case furrows his brow, like I’m confusing him. “He called me that.”

  “Garrett?”

  “No.”

  “Who?”

  “The man in my head.”

  He smiles at me. And it comes so easy. “You wanna fish today, Syd?”

  “Sydney,” Case says, drawing me back. “Who’s in your head?”

  “Garrett,” I whisper. “But not the mean one.”

  “You made that guy up, Sydney. You made him up to replace the monster.”

  I turn away from Case again, but he stops me and turns me back. “I’m tired.”

  “We’re all tired. You don’t get to quit because you’re tired. You were brainwashed. And I know he did terrible things, so we’re not gonna go there right now. But I need to know when you saw him last, Sydney. Think hard.”

  “The night before my wedding.”

  “Goddammit. No!” Case says this in an angry voice. “That was me, Sydney. I was the one you saw that night. You crashed your truck and I came and got you. Brought you here. That was not—”

  “I saw Garrett too. He was at the hotel.”

  “What?” Case sits up behind me. “What?” He grabs my chin with his hand and turns it until I have to pay attention to him.

  “He was there. I saw him. He came to my door and—”

  I stare at the monster in the hallway, the fear taking over. But that word he says, that stops me. It stops me. He says it again, and again. And each time, I become smaller. My world gets darker. Things shrink and I float.

  “Then what happened, Sydney?”

  “Come with me.”

  I take his hand and follow him down the hallway to a door marked for employees. We go inside and it’s dark.

  “What did he say, Sydney?”

  “You’re a good girl.” It makes me sick and I lean over and throw up.

  “Goddammit,” Case says. He gets up and it’s only then that I realize I actually did throw up. All over the rug in front of the fireplace.

  He picks me up, holding me in his arms as he kicks the rug out of the way. And then he’s still for a moment. Like he’s thinking. He spins and so does my head. I have to close my eyes to stop my stomach from churning.

  “I’m gonna be sick again,” I say. And then I puke all over myself and pass out.

  The next thing I know, I’m in a bathroom. The lights are so bright I have to close my eyes. I’ve been in the dark too long. The water is running and I’m sitting on Case’s lap on the rim of the tub. He’s wiping me down with a towel and when he’s done with that he places me in the water.

  It’s hot. But it feels so damn good after all those days and nights in the cold. Every part of my body is finally warm. He positions me so I’m leaning forward, my arms resting on my knees, my head resting on my arms.

  He washes me. The soapy washcloth drags up and down my back. He pours water over my head, making me gasp and struggle for air. I can’t tell if this is torture or kindness.

  I go with kindness. Because I’ve had enough torture in my life. But I know it’s a lie. Just like all the other lies I’ve been telling myself. “My whole life is a lie.”

  “Welcome to the real world,” Case says.

  I’m not in the tub anymore. I’m wrapped up in a towel, lying on a bed. He unwraps me and scoots me under the covers. They are soft, and clean, and smell fresh. And then he slips into bed and puts his arms all the way around me again.

  “We’re done for now. He’s got you programmed to become sick when you’re questioned. So we’re gonna sleep it off and try again tomorrow.”

  But I’m not interested in tomorrow. I’m interested in right now. I go into my head and find the dream man. The perfect one who loves me.

  I turn into him and wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him close. “Fuck me.”

  Hands are on my ribs, one on each side. They wrap halfway around my body, that’s how big they are. He’s talking, but I don’t hear him. I hear the river. I hear the birds singing. I hear the aspen leaves rustling above my head in the thick forest.

  I reach down for his cock and find him fully erect. Hard and long. He’s still talking. And then I’m talking, and I have no idea what I’m saying, but whatever it is, it makes him respond to me. He gives in to me. His hands slip down farther. One pushes between my legs and begins to stroke me in all the right ways, the way I always imagined it in the dream world.

  He flips me over and fingers my asshole. “You like it like this, Sydney?”

  “Hmmm,” I mumble out. I do. But only from the dream guy. “Take me,” I tell him. “In the ass.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Case says. But he whispers it. And it doesn’t come out like he’s frustrated. He’s turned on.

  Case gets out of bed, his arm wrapped around my middle, lifting me with him like I’m weightless. Like I’m a sack of nothingness that he can position any way he wants. And he does. He props me up on my hands and knees on the edge of the bed and bumps his hard cock against my ass. Teasing me. Making me moan.

  He pokes the entrance to my ass a few times, then something cold dribbles on my ass and slides down, making me tremble. His saliva, I realize. His fingers play with me for a moment, working it in, making my entrance wet. “You want it, Sydney? Tell me you want it. Tell me you want it or you don’t get it. We’re not gonna have another misunderstanding.”

  “I want it,” I say. “I want it so—”

  He thrusts his full length inside me, the jolt of pain intense fire. A pain I’ve felt so many times, it barely matters. And then that sick feeling in my stomach is gone and I relax, letting him pound me from behind. Over and over again. His balls slap against the lips of my pussy. His chest falls down on my back. His breathing becomes my breathing. His moans become my moans. And then his pleasure becomes my pleasure when he shoots his hot release all over my back.

  “You ready to learn to fish?”

  I don’t know if it’s in my head or not. But my answer is yes.

  “I can’t always take care of you, Syd.”

  I know that.

  Teach me how to take care of myself. Please.

  Case falls over on the bed, dragging my body with him. We lie there for a few minutes, breathing hard from the sex.

  I crawl away from him, seeking out my own space. And he gets up just as I find my own pillow and bury my head in it. The tears stream out as Case pulls on his jeans, his belt buckle jingling as he does this. And then he collapses in the bed next to me and pulls me close.

  “Tomorrow, Sydney. We’ll pick this back up tomorrow. You can sleep here for tonight.”

  I turn into him, wrapping my hands around this monster’s body until I find his back. He responds with his own embrace.

  He might be a monster, but it’s dark in here. And if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s live in the dark. I’ve met the monsters there so many times, it’s familiar. And familiar is always better than new.

  I drift off as he kisses my neck.

  My eyes open a while later. It’s still dark. I’m still thinking about him. Them. All of them.

  I own you, Case said. And I guess he’s right. He does. Because I’m here. I asked for this. My hands drop from his back and he turns a little, letting one of my hands slip down to his hips and come to a rest over a lump in his pocket.

  His knife.

  I swallow h
ard. My head is a lot clearer now, the drugs he gave me wearing off. I feel the outline of the lump in his pocket. Not a knife. I slowly slip my hand inside, one fraction at a time, until my fingertips come in contact with his secret.

  Syringes. But are they empty? Or full?

  There are three of them. I wrap my tiny hand around the bundle of plastic and slowly withdraw them. When I get them out I flick the caps off, one at a time. I don’t know if they are empty or not and it’s dark, so I have no hope of finding out.

  So I do the only thing I can do. I stab him, with all three at once, and push the drugs in.

  Only two depress, and I’m not even sure how much he got, because I’m thrown onto the hard wood floor before I can finish.

  “You fucking cunt.”

  “Right place, right time. Best escape advice out there.”

  – Sydney

  I slide across the floor and hit my head on the wall. He grabs my arms, like he’s got some super night vision and he knows exactly where I am in the blackness, and pulls me to my feet. He squeezes my arm so hard I cry out.

  “Bitch,” he laughs. “The dose was way too fucking low to drug a guy as big as me.”

  He throws me against the wall again. I hit it harder than the last time, the back of my head bursting with pain. My vision blurs and I start to fall to the floor.

  But he’s there again, holding me up. Not the way he carried me to the tub to clean me up. He slings me over his shoulder and stumbles towards the door, falling forward. Once again I hit the floor. But he loses his grip and I crawl backwards, feeling for the wall. I find it at the same time he finds me and then a hard fist crashes against the side of my head.

  “You think you can play me?” He’s breathing hard, his anger spewing out with each exhale. “You think you can trick me, you stupid whore?”

  Even in the dark, the next blow makes the room spin. Makes my brain spin.