by J. A. Huss
I lie back and dunk my hair, closing my eyes to fully become submerged. The outside goes away for a moment, making things seem peaceful. But then his grip on my upper arm pulls me back up.
He squirts some shampoo onto my head, a thin, cold stream that makes me look up at his intentions. But all he says is, “Wash.”
I do wash. I scrub my hair good. Hell, if he wants me clean, I can get on board with that. When my hair is all lathered, he reaches over to the counter for a bowl, and then scoops up water and pours it down my head to wash out the soap.
I look up again. Because I’m just not getting it. But he simply points to a white bar of soap in a dish built into the cabin wall.
I take the hint and wash my body, certain that more than two minutes have passed. But he doesn’t rush me, or even speak again. He just waits until I’m all soaped up and then pours the water over me. Down one shoulder, then the other. Several times, actually. And I’m just starting to relax when he leans over and pulls the plug. The water starts rushing out with that sucking noise that tubs make when they drain. He stands before me, his arms open with a waiting towel.
When I step out, he looks my whole body up and down. I look him up and down as well. He’s got a bruise on his arm where I stabbed him with the syringes.
I look down at my own arms and find the same marks. Another on my thigh. Then the other thigh.
When I look back up he cracks a smile. “I got more where that came from. But let’s try to move forward. I’m not getting anywhere with the drugs, and to be quite honest, I’m on a schedule.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “For killing me?” I ask in a whisper.
He ignores my words. Just wraps me up in the towel and flips the light off as he walks out.
“Follow me,” he calls over his shoulder.
And what choice do I have?
So I do. I follow him down the hallway and meet him in the dark.
“I walk that line between monster and savior, and I use it against them.”
– Case
She steps back into the room that has become her prison, only this time she does it of her own accord.
I need to adjust. Because so far, nothing is working on this girl and I need answers. Time is running out. When this all started I thought the whole thing would be over in two, three days, tops. But we’re on day twelve now. Day twelve.
I take her hand and this must frighten her because she pulls back instinctively, but my squeeze reassures her. She’s warm now. And clean. And calm. So my squeeze is a reassurance that she is still going to be all those things if she gives in. I lead her across the dark room until I get to the far wall, and then I place my hands on her shoulders and push her until she bumps into it with her back.
“What—”
I put my fingers to her lips. “Hush.”
She starts breathing hard and I swear to God, I can almost hear her heartbeat. But I don’t say it again. I don’t want whatever it is that Garrett turned her into. I just want Syd right now.
I wrap my fingers around both her tiny wrists and bring her arms above her head. “Grab hold, Sydney.” She reaches until she finds the chains hanging from the ceiling and they clink a little as she grips them.
I smooth her wet hair down. “Good girl.”
She whimpers.
I lean down to her ear and say, “Shhh. Be still. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Let me go. Please.”
I know she’s looking up at me with those eyes and I have a sudden urge to see them. “If you can behave, I will go open the fireplace. Do you want a little heat, Sydney? A little bit of light?”
“No,” she says back. “I like the dark.”
Shit. That one hush was all she needed. Up until now, it’s been three times to get compliance. But when I need her to resist, she gives in. Fucking figures. “We’ve been in the dark long enough. Let’s meet up in the light.”
She starts to say no again, but I interrupt her with another, “Hush.”
Her shoulders relax a little as she continues to cling to the chains. I wonder what word Garrett uses to bring her out of it? It would be nice to have that.
“Stay here. Just like you are. I’ll be right back.”
I leave her there, walk out of the room, down the hall a few paces, and then stop to listen.
Nothing. She stayed.
OK, Merc. Let’s figure this shit out. I go back out to the living room and throw a few logs onto the dying fire, then press the button that will lift the steel plate on the other side of the wall.
Her feet come into view first, then her legs. I can’t see anything else unless I get on my knees. So I just grab the rug in front of the couch and take it back into the room and drop it down on the ground in front of the fire.
“Case?”
I turn to look at her. The shadows from the flames are dancing up her body, licking them in places I’d like to lick myself. “Yeah?” Is she back? How did she come back?
“Why did you leave me there? Was it because you thought I wasn’t worth saving?”
I walk forward a few paces and stop about four feet in front of her. “What?”
“He said you’d save me. That I shouldn’t worry. Because you’d save me.”
“Who?”
“My father. He said he told you to save me and so no matter what happened, you’d get me out because I was the job. Was I not worth it? Didn’t he pay you enough? You punched me in the face. I was waiting—” She starts to cry and I take a step back. “I was waiting for you. I saw you and that other guy moving in the bushes, and I was waiting. Garrett came in and then—” She lets her chin fall to her chest.
“You knew I was coming?”
She nods, but doesn’t look up. “I think I know why.” She does look up after this, and I wish she hadn’t. She’s got more hurt in that one look than any living creature I’ve ever seen. And I’ve tortured my share of people over the years. Killed too many to count. I’ve seen fear before.
This is not fear.
This is sadness.
“I think it’s because he lied, didn’t he?” She swallows hard, like she’s steeling herself to admit something she’d rather not. “He lied to me. He never sent you to save me. You were always there to kill me, weren’t you?” I shake my head. But she doesn’t see it, or she ignores me, or whatever. “They always wanted to get rid of me.”
“Who?” I take the two steps that separate us and cup her face in my hand. “Who, Sydney?” She might have the answers after all. She might give them up without having to go through with this stupid plan.
“Those people.”
My hope dies a little. “What people?”
“Those people my father has running his PR. They found out about me two years before all this happened. I was living with my mom out in a small town, just east of Cheyenne. And they found out about me.”
“Oh,” I say, for lack of anything else to say to that. Those people. I took care of them years ago. Plus, she doesn’t even have a name for them. PR people is not what I’d call them. But if you’re a kid, you’d probably assume your father was on the up and up instead of a malicious child-killer. So I can’t blame her for that. “No, Syd. He did tell me to come save you. He didn’t lie about that.”
Her face crumples a little, like I just delivered bad news. “OK.”
Something is happening here, but I’m not quite sure I know what it is. But I am damn sure I need to move this shit forward. I had a spark of hope for a second there that she might tell on her own. Admit to lying, and tell me where I can find Garrett. Cop out to seeing him all these years. Cop out to being in on the plan.
But I think she’s telling the truth. And that’s so much worse for her than if she had been lying. Because I think she’s gone. I think she’s fucked up beyond all repair. FUBAR, we call it in the army. Sydney Channing has been a big surprise from beginning to end. But never in a million years did I see this coming.
“Syd,” I say, getting ready to
explain what’s gonna happen now.
“Why do you call me that?” she interrupts. “No one calls me that. I hate it.”
I think back. Is that true? Didn’t Garrett call her that? Never mind. I wave a hand in front of me, trying to clear the air.
I place my hand on her head again. Smoothing her hair. It’s starting to dry and it will be just as FUBAR as her once it does.
Get a grip, Merc. This bitch is over as soon as you get her to talk.
Right.
I drop my hand to her throat and flatten my palm against her throbbing artery. She’s not tied—not her hands and not her feet—so I expect her to fight a little. But she doesn’t, once again showing me that she is unreliable as far as reactions go. I even squeeze it a little, just to test this theory out. Again, no reaction until a few seconds pass and she begins to choke.
I ease off and press my body against hers. My chest is bare, so we are skin to skin. She is warm and so am I. Together we heat everything up. I lean into her ear and give her a kiss. She shudders, but her hands remain grasping onto the chains, just like I told her to.
“Did he tell you you were pretty?” I don’t know why I ask that, but I feel the need to know.
“No,” she says. “He told me I was expendable.”
“Channing said that?” I just can’t see it, to be honest. I mean, yeah, the girl was illegitimate and that’s a pretty big deal in his world. But… expendable? He hired me to save her ass. So maybe he was setting all of us up? I dunno. I never pegged him as a Sydney hater. Sure, the kid was inconvenient, but why raise her up to age sixteen and then—
“Garrett,” she clarifies.
“Oh.” Jesus fucking Christ, Merc. Back on track!
I trace a finger down each side of her body, feeling her ribs. They are prominent when she’s got her hands above her head like this. And she might be ticklish, because it makes her squirm. I adjust my position and then cup her breasts. It makes me feel dirty for some reason. This whole thing makes me feel dirty. I’m tired of playing with her. But I have to know.
She moans a little and this gives me what I need to continue. “Do you know what the hard fuck is, Syd?”
“I’m a virgin.”
I laugh. Like hard. It startles her and she drops her hands and covers herself. It startles me too, because I actually take a step back instead of correcting her.
“Please, I’m a virgin.”
“You cannot be serious.” My tone has changed. It’s harsh. And this makes her reach up and grab the chains again to try to placate me. “Why are you lying? I already fucked you in the ass once. I’ve seen him fuck you dozens of times.”
She doesn’t react. Not to any of that. Not to the fact that I fucked her or the fact that I watched Garrett fuck her.
“That bullshit might’ve worked on Brett—” I stop talking and stare at her. “That’s why you never let Brett fuck you?”
She lifts her head and her eyes, but only for a moment. Only to nod.
She’s telling the truth. Well, no, she’s lying her ass off. But she thinks she’s telling the truth.
I step forward again and reach down to find her pussy. When I hit her clit with the tip of my thumb, she moans. I insert one finger and she thrusts her hips to force me to go deeper. “Let me ask you this question again, Sydney.” I grab her hair with my other hand and yank her head back so she has to look at me. “Do you know what the hard fuck is?”
“No,” she says, emotionless.
I lean into her ear and whisper, “You’re about to find out.” She just stares straight ahead. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she says, still no emotion.
“That yes is permission.”
I wait to see if she will object, and in truth, a part of me wants her to. I want her to knee me in the balls. Scratch my eyes out. Spit in my face. I want her to fight.
Because if she did all those things, I might stop. It might be enough to stop me.
But again, she’s compliant when I want resistance.
And then she takes it one step further. She covers the distance between us with a kiss.
My hand leaves her hair and I find her throat again. Because we’re on. “Let me explain what the hard fuck is, Sydney. OK?” I growl it into her mouth, because she’s still kissing me. “It means I will push you beyond all your limits. I will make you cry tears and writhe in pain and pleasure at the same time. I’m gonna make that fuck so hard you’ll weep. But you will beg me to keep going. I will make your body sore, your muscles shudder, and your mind exhausted. I’m gonna take you, Sydney Channing. I’m gonna take you and once I do, I’m never gonna give you back.”
“Take me,” she whispers back. Her warm breath intertwines with mine, making us intimate for a moment.
But only for a moment. Because I push her to her knees, fist her hair, and drag her face towards my cock.
“They walk that line between angel and demon, and they use it against me too.”
– Case
She looks up at me, her warm breath already heating up the denim of my jeans. Her eyes are watery, like she wants to cry.
I want her to cry. I want to make her sob. I want to stuff my dick down her throat and watch the tears run down her face.
I kneel down, pushing her off balance and making her tip back a little. She reaches out, grasping the fabric of my jeans to steady herself. I grab her face and grip it firmly, squeezing her cheeks. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“It’s your fault.”
“What?” I look from one eye to the other, trying to see what’s right in front of me, but failing utterly. “How do you figure that?”
“You left me there. My father hired you to—”
I push hard and she careens backwards onto the floor. She lets off a grunt and then turns over on her side, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Just do whatever you’re going to do. I don’t care anymore.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” I walk across the room and then pace back, stopping with the tip of my boot so close to her lips, it might be touching. “Any idea who you are? What you are?”
She says nothing. Her eyes are open, but she’s checked out.
“What happens when he says that word—”
“Just fuck me.”
“You’re a virgin,” I sneer. “Remember?”
She pushes herself up with one hand, straining her neck to look me in the eye. “I am. But you don’t deserve to know the story, Case. You don’t deserve to know what that word does. You don’t deserve to know anything. But if you want to be the first to fuck my pussy, then whatever. Take it. Take whatever you want. You’re gonna anyway.”
My mind whirls with the only important detail in that statement. “You really expect me to believe that he only ever fucked you in the ass?”
“You said you were watching me. You should know.” She’s on her feet in an instant, her fist coming at me. She connects with my cheek. Hard.
But not hard enough. I grab her arm and drag her back over to the wall. And this time, I don’t ask her to hold on. I tie the bitch up. I clamp the cuffs on her wrists and tighten the chain until her arms are above her head. Her feet are still kicking and she’s calling me every name in the book. I take a few blows and a knee to my chest as I grab an ankle and attach the shackle. She’s still got one foot free when she stops the fight.
She seethes with hate and anger. Her breath is rushing out. Her hair is covering her face, blowing out a little with each exhale. “Do it,” she growls. “Take whatever you want, you stupid coward. My father hired you to save me! And you left me there!”
“I thought that was the best thing that ever happened to you?” I clamp the second shackle on her ankle and look up at her. Caught. “I thought he was your dream guy. I thought—”
She spits on me. It lands on my forehead.
“You’re gonna regret that.”
“I don’t think so,” she says, her words low and her tone gruff, like she
’s exhausted. “I’m not gonna do it, Case. I’m not gonna do any of it anymore. I’m gonna piss you off so much you’ll have no choice but to kill me.”
“I can torture you, ya stupid bitch.”
And then she laughs. “No, you can’t.” She laughs again, louder this time. Wilder. Like she’s losing touch with reality. “You can’t torture me, Case. I’ve been through anything you can think up and more.” She sneers at me. “And I have a secret. I have lots of secrets, actually. But this one takes away all your power.”
I know what she’s gonna say before she does and I stand up quickly, trying to cover her mouth with my hand. But it slips by me.
“Hush,” she says. “All I gotta do is tell myself to hush and no one can hurt me.” She looks up, through the strands of hair that are still wet from the bath and probably soaking up the sweat that is running down her face, even though this room can’t be anywhere near warm, let alone hot.
“You’re a sick bitch.”
“Says one psycho to the next.”
I grab her throat. “Let’s pick up where we left off and see if we can’t tip the scales in my favor.”
“It’s your party, Case. I’m just along for the ride.” Her eyes blaze with expectations. “Fuck me. See how far it gets you. The hard fuck, you say? That’s what you think will teach me a lesson? You think the hard fuck is something new for me? Ha!” She laughs again. The crazy laugh. The laugh that says, We’re done here.
I step back. The soles of my bare feet are cold on the concrete floor as I walk away. When I get to the fire I turn my back to it, letting what little is left warm me up. “I think you’ve misunderstand what the hard fuck is.”
“I’m gonna make you weep, Sydney,” she says in a fake voice. “I’m gonna make that fuck so hard you’ll weep. Well, I’m not sure why this is a newsflash, since you said you’ve been watching, but newsflash, asshole—I always weep.” She spits in my direction, but I’m too far away to hit this time. “Your game is old. Your methods are tired. Your knowledge is lacking.”