He looked at me with a sinister smile on his angelic face, inserting the didlo fully into my ass.
I squealed like a pig at slaughter, trying to breathe through the excruciating pain.
“You like that?” he asked, ramming the toy in and out of me.
The tips of the nails felt like razor blades digging into the sensitive tissue inside me.
Blood began to leak, asmy body rejected the foreign object, insides trying to force it out. Something in my anal cavity tore, and more blood flowed from the decimated hole.
I felt myself slipping away.
He left the dildo inserted when he shoved his cock into my pussy.
I didn’t get a reprieve.
He fucked me like he did every other time before, taking everything he wanted, continuing well after I slipped beneath a blanket of darkness.
He didn’t let me stay under for long, waving a smelling block beneath my nose.
No, he wanted to ensure I felt exactly what happened next.
The brunette was out of the dog cage, struggling against him much like I had during our first encounter. She didn’t get taken to the mattress, though; instead, he brought her to me.
“P-p-please don’t—”
“Shhh,” he soothed, running his knuckles down the woman’s tear-stained face.
She looked to me then, dark eyes taking in the massive dildo still embedded in my ass, nails digging into my anal tissue.
“What is that? Why am I here? Why are you—”
“I’m not in the mood for one-hundred questions,” he said, dragging the terrified woman the rest of the way to the chair.
She cried and yelled, quickly deciding to beg as he bent her over practically right on top of me, reaching beneath her dress and tearing her underwear clean off.
“I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to keep your face buried in my pretty toy’s pussy the entire time,” J explained, reaching for the chain above me.
“I have money. I have—”
“I don’t need your fucking money,” he sneered, slipping the noose-like chain around her neck.
She continued to panic until it no longer mattered. J shoved her face between my legs, pushing the dildo into my ass a little further.
Dropping my head back, I breathed in quick shallow breaths as he proceeded to fuck her, forcing her arms to stay locked behind her.
Her cries were muffled by my pussy each time she was forced to press her mouth against it. I was in too much pain to care. When J reached up to tighten the chain around her neck, there wasn’t a thing I could do to help her.
Still tied down, the gag stopping me from speaking, I could do nothing but watch as she started to suffocate.
The whites in her eyes turned a faded red before rolling back into her skull; ugly blotches broke out across her skin.
J remained thrusting inside her limp body long after she looked at me with a fixed, blank stare.
All I could think about was how I’d never got to ask what her name was, and the lifeless face that seemed to say her death was all my fault.
–Chapter Nineteen–
Harper
-Present-
Fate can be a tricky thing.
I didn’t believe in it much until I managed to save my own life.
I was a firm believer that everything happened for a reason—even the bad things.
I’d come to the conclusion that I was taken for a purpose, and that purpose was to find the man responsible for all my suffering and rid the world of his disease.
I still tried to live my life.
Once every few weeks, I ventured to the Winn Dixie and got a fresh carton of Moose Tracks ice cream.
Maybe I went in my pajamas, but at least I was going somewhere.
It was fate that had me standing right beside the model-like blonde in the middle of the ice-cream aisle at nine-o-clock at night.
“What are you getting?” she asked me suddenly.
“I always get the Moose Tracks. I just pretend I’m going to choose something healthier.” I shrugged and pulled open the freezer door.
She scrunched her nose up and leaned forward, reading the carton I pulled out.
“Oh, that does look good. My husband doesn’t like me to have sweets, so when he goes away on business, I get to indulge,” she laughed.
I wanted to ask if he didn’t let her have sweets for health reasons, or because he was a controlling asshole.
I played nice for the sake of not offending most strangers I tended to meet nowadays.
“Mm, well, enjoy.” I forced a smile and dropped the ice-cream in my basket, continuing down the aisle.
“I’m Michelle, by the way,” she called after me.
I continued walking. My ability to interact with strangers was rusty. Besides, the only time I’d witnessed a grand friendship being formed in places like a grocery store aisle was in movies or on television. I didn’t need friends; I had a cat.
“But most people just call me Minnie,” she added just as I was about to turn the corner.
I almost stopped dead in my tracks, choosing to turn around naturally and play off the fact that her name was ingrained in my brain.
I’d searched for a Minnie when I failed to find a J. Most of my results were the Disney character and a few social media profiles that didn’t match what I was looking for.
It could have been a wild coincidence that she just so happened to have that nickname, but I didn’t believe in those.
“Harper,” I replied, forcing some pep into my voice.
Her smile faltered just the slightest bit. If I hadn’t been watching her so closely, I would've missed it.
Did she know who I was? Is that why she came down this aisle?
I took a few steps towards her, instantly picking up on her sudden nervous energy. Her hazel eyes regarded me cautiously.
“Are you sure you want that ice-cream? We know how your husband can get.”
Her whole expression soured, my words hitting a chord.
I didn’t wait around to see what else she might or might not have decided she needed to say to me.
Turning on my heel, I hurried down the aisle. I set my basket on a doughnut display, anxious to get out of the store, nearly jogging to my Jeep.
I slipped inside and immediately began scanning the parking lot for Minnie.
The only person I saw was a mom loading her baby carrier into the back of a minivan.
I watched the store doors without looking away once, clenching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
When she finally came out, she appeared to be in as much of a hurry as I just was—only she’d bought her groceries.
She had a cell phone cradled to her ear, talking rapidly into the speaker.
I slid lower in my seat, trying to stay hidden so I could eavesdrop on her conversation.
Her heels carried her by quickly, but I was able to hear exactly what she was saying. “I need you to call me back, Jayce. Now. You fucked up.”
My stomach turned over in response. She sounded highly pissed off and even more worried. I’d always assumed she didn’t know about his extracurricular activities.
I couldn’t fathom how another woman could sit by and let her husband sexually torture people as a hobby.
It was infuriating on a whole new level. How many of us could she have saved if she’d spoken up?
J—no, Jayce—was just a man. He was human. He felt pain and bled just like anyone else, and she didn’t seem to be that afraid him.
Hearing an engine start, I peeked over my steering wheel just in time to see a dark blue beamer pull right past me.
I knew who the driver was.
I wanted to ram the bitch right off the road. The last time I saw her husband, he’d left me to die, and therein lay their problem: I wasn’t supposed to be alive.
It took less than sixty seconds for me to decide what I was going to do next. I started my Jeep and proceeded to follow her home.
Harper
-2 years-
I’m losing my fucking mind.
I had the same thought multiple times a day, or maybe it was night.
I didn’t know how long I’d been here.
I’d forgotten what it was like to feel the sun. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d breathed in something other than bleach, feces, and death.
I was excessively exhausted and constantly starving. J gave me food when he felt like it, not as I needed it.
Sometimes I talked to the other girls he brought in. I think there had been a total of four. Most of the time they didn’t speak back, just cried and begged me to help them.
They were never around for long.
I’m not sure what he did with their bodies once he killed them, and that was always by strangulation as he buried his cock in either hole.
I knew my time would come soon. He was bored with me now. There was disgust and disdain in his eyes when they drifted over the body he’d ruined.
J and I didn’t form some Stockholm connection. I didn’t fall for the sick fuck who kidnapped me because he was something pretty to look at it. Which is why the day he stopped the clock, I wasn’t caught off guard.
When the cell door opened, I remained in my fetal position, facing away from him.
I waited for him to approach. When he didn’t, I peeked over my shoulder, seeing him stopped just a few feet away.
“You really were special,” he mused, more to himself than me.
“If you hadn’t tried to escape that day, I was going to move you upstairs, make you a bit more comfortable.”
And then we’d play house?
I waited for his speech to commence.
“You know why you’ve outlasted all the others? You never once asked me to kill you. I wondered how long it’d be before you begged for death by my hand. You never did.”
“You kept me alive because I didn’t ask to die?” I tried to make sense of that, but this was J. Most things didn’t equal two plus two with him.
“That, and because you had hope. Now you don’t; I see in your eyes that you’ve given up.”
Sitting up now, I studied his profile.
He almost looked sad.
“I’m moving on, gonna take a break for a bit before I start over again,” he continued.
“Why are you telling me any of this?” I asked, disinterested.
He shook his head and turned away, beginning to walk out of the cell. “It’ll be fast if you don’t struggle.”
“What will be fast?” I asked, genuinely confused.
He smiled at me, and started up the stairs. When I heard the door shut, I scrambled off the bed.
He’d left my cell open; he never did that. Hurrying across the stone floor, I entered the main room and looked around.
Nothing appeared to be any different. The stopwatch hung on its hook, no longer ticking.
I waited to see if J would come back, but he never did.
Had he left me down here to starve?
I’d pick a hundred deaths before I chose that one.
Taking a quick breath, I crept up the wooden staircase and listened for any sign that would tell me what was going on.
A funny smell reached my nose before I made it all the way to top. It took me a few seconds to place it; by then, smoke was slipping beneath the crack of the door.
He was going to burn this shithole down, with me trapped inside it.
I stumbled down the stairs, mind racing with how to get myself out of this. I didn’t want to burn alive.
If the flames didn’t kill me, the smoke inhalation would.
I was in no shape survive something like that.
Eyes darting wildly around the room, they came to rest on the industrial shelving unit.
I ran towards it, shoving the side repeatedly in an effort to get it to move. The damn thing scooted just a fraction of an inch.
Flipping around, I slammed my back into it, shoving with every ounce of strength I could muster.
It grated on the floor, finally beginning to slide. The smell of smoke grew stronger; a low groan came through the ceiling above me.
If this place collapsed, I’d be crushed.
When there was enough space for me to fit through, I squeezed my way into the tiny passage beneath the cellar doors.
Balanced on the top step, I pressed my palms against them and pushed upward.
They lifted, letting in a stream of sunlight before snagging from the outside.
“The fucking lock.” I cursed J to hell and back, shoving the doors repeatedly.
They wouldn’t give.
I began to panic now, swearing I could feel heat searing into the basement.
Holding the doors with one hand, I forced the other through the light gap between them.
Ignoring the pressure, I felt for the whatever it was keeping me in.
Grasping something rusted and metal, I tried to tug it free. My grip was too weak. My fingers reached again, and I forced my wrist out further.
Certain now that heat was filling the place I’d called home the last two years, I started to claw, desperate to reach the latch.
My nails dug into the wood, a splinter going into my pinky, my ring and pointer fingers stripped of their nails completely.
They tore out with surprising ease, but that didn’t lessen the pain. I cried out, immediately wanting to draw back and examine my injury. Instead, I persevered. I was close.
Heat found its way into my passage, and I began to sweat. The smell of smoke made my eyes water. I let them.
“Come on,” I pleaded, grinding my teeth against the pain.
Finally clutching the latch, I tugged and wiggled until it popped.
The doors could finally be lifted.
I sucked in a breath of smoke-filled air and rushed out. Sunlight engulfed me, momentarily paralyzing my legs.
The cabin burned at my back.
If J was watching nearby, I didn’t want him to see me.
I started running straight.
My eyes stung, my lungs burned, and my body threatened to expel vomit from my empty stomach, but I still didn’t stop.
I found a dirt road and followed it, wheezing in and out, feet bloody. I stopped when through a gap up ahead in a cluster of trees, I saw the back of the Metric gas station.
–Chapter Twenty-One–
Harper
-Present-
They had a beautiful home.
I could admit that.
Sitting outside of it, parked a few houses down, I browsed on my cell phone.
Jayce Charles Haywood owned a real estate company, had zero kids, and still looked the exact same way he had two and a half years ago.
Lucky him.
Seeing him in photographs didn’t move me in any way. His face was a constant image on display in my head.
I didn’t care to know any personal details about him; I just needed to know who he was.
Reaching across my seats, I popped open the glove box and removed my little black handgun and my bright purple riding gloves.
The lights inside his house had gone out thirty minutes ago. All except one.
Watching my surroundings, I got out of my Jeep and quickly darted across the street. His house looked even bigger up close.
I didn’t bother with the front, or the back door. I walked right into the open garage and tried that one.
It swung right open, taking me back to when he’d told me that my house needed a security system.
It seemed Jayce didn’t practice what he preached.
I stepped into a family room and shut the door behind me, hearing the sound of running water upstairs.
Bypassing an all white sofa, I paused and studied a large self-portrait hanging above a massive fireplace.
The woman in the painting could have been one of my late relatives. Our resemblance was eerie.
I shuddered and left the room, looking for the kitchen.
It wasn’t hard, given that it was almost the size of my whole cottage.
This room was white, too.
I hated it.
The cleanliness of the home was almost offensive. How could he live so luxuriously, yet fuck in such squalor?
I tucked my gun in the pocket of my cow pajamas before going over to a knife block, pulling each one out and examining the blades carefully before making a choice.
There was never a moment where I wondered if what I was about to do was right or wrong.
I wasn’t afraid of being caught. After all, this would be doing society a huge favor.
I walked up the stairs, careful where I placed each slipper so I didn’t hit a creaky floorboard.
Light from the bathroom poured out into the hall. I approached the open door and peered inside.
The soaking tub faced the opposite direction, giving me a view of Minnie’s back.
She had a glass of red wine on the ledge, head leaned back and eyes closed. Poor thing looked a little stressed.
It was her own fault.
There was nothing she could say that would make her silence okay.
She wasn’t quiet because she was terrified; she was quiet because she didn’t give a fuck.
I ensured my purple gloves were on tight, and strolled forward. Not experienced with stabbing people, I did what all the Google articles had said.
I crouched down and cupped a hand over Minnie’s mouth; apparently, this helped with air flow or something.
Her hazel eyes flew open, and she immediately began to struggle. The wine glass hit the floor, shattering into pieces. Sudsy water splashed out of the tub as I pinned her in place.
I couldn’t remember how or where to stab someone. The adrenaline rushing through my veins had my hands slightly shaking and my thought process soley focused on ending this.
I jabbed her in the side of the neck first, fascinated by how easily the blade sliced clean through her flesh.
She cried out behind my gloved hand.
I stuck her again, a little lower, and then once in her chest beside her silicone tit before letting go.
Blood turned the water red, staining the porcelain tub. She croaked a little, like a frog, and her body twitched a few times before going completely still.
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