Twisted Christmas

by Sara Cate

  How can this world be so evil? How can the people who are supposed to love you the most have the least faith in you? How can someone you thought believed in you turn out to be the one who drowns you?

  I can barely see through my tears, but I get up and pack my shit. I grab the bags from under the bed and the rest of the minimal stuff scattered around my room. When I come down, William and Mom are gone. Of course, she wouldn’t even say goodbye.

  Since I have nothing left to lose, I grab William’s wallet from the coffee table, help myself to his cash and a credit card, book myself the first flight home, and send one final text to Hunter.

  Me: I don’t know what happened. I guess I had faith in the wrong person once again. I want to fight this doubt and hope the people around me are feeding me lies. But your silence is telling me otherwise. I want to tell you I hate you. Because somewhere deep down, I still do. But I grew to feel something else. Not that it matters now. I hope you get the retribution you’re so bent on finding. I feel sorry for the people you destroy in the process. It hurts. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but I’m leaving tonight for my dad’s. I bought a ticket, and soon, I’ll be gone. You all can go on living your lives like I was the rotten seed infesting your perfect little world. For what it’s worth, I deserve better than you. Than them. One day, I’ll find it. I can’t say the same for you.

  I wipe at my tears and slip my phone back into my pocket. Grabbing the handle of my small suitcase, I pull the straps of my backpack up my shoulders. I’m reaching for the doorknob when it opens in front of me.

  I raise my chin, ready for another fight. I refuse to take any more from my mother, a resentful woman who’s never deserved my love in the first place. Instead of her, or even William, at the door, I find myself looking down the barrel of a gun, Mr. Gibson holding it.

  “Mr. Gibson, what are you—?”

  “Don’t talk.” He shoves the gun into my chest, and I jerk back, but his hand snakes forward into my hair, pulling me back.

  “Please don’t.”

  “It’s time you learn what happens to bad little girls who tease hungry men—who flaunt their little tits around, begging to be played with, only to cry wolf later.”

  “I swear, I wasn’t. You’re making a mistake—”

  I cry out as he tugs me forward, a sharpness radiating from my scalp. “You think you can lie to me? Do you think you can just taunt a man and get away with it? You think I don’t know who you are?”

  My eyes water from the throbbing in my head. My arms shoot up, scratching at his hold on me, desperate to relieve some pressure. He howls when my nails dig into his forearm, tearing through his skin.

  “Bitch,” he hisses, tossing me back. I get tripped up, and I slam into the end table by the back of the couch, my head hitting the corner.

  I fall limply to the ground, the wind knocked out of me. Agonizing pain slices through my skull. I try to fight through the fogginess and kick my legs out to make space between us, but he’s already hovering over me.

  “Why do you have to fight me? Why can’t you just remember how it was? You liked me. You wanted me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes!” He jabs his gun downward, and I freeze. “You were hungry for me. I saw it in your greedy eyes. I just wanted to give you what you wanted. I wanted to feed you in ways you never knew you were starved for.”

  “Mr.—Mr. Gibson, you’re my teacher—”

  “Stop saying that!” He bends down, and I cower, waiting for the next wave of agony to come. His fingers latch around my neck. “Admit it. Admit you’ve been dreaming about this.” His lips brush against mine. My stomach churns with disgust, and I fight not to throw up. He tries to kiss me, but I shift my head to the left, angering him more. “Stop being a tease, bitch.” His thumb digs into my windpipe, forcing my head straight. “I know you like it. You ache for an older man. Just like you ache for your daddy.”

  This time, he succeeds, crushing his lips over mine. I fight the intrusion, but he’s stronger. His hand squeezes at my throat, choking me, so my mouth opens, and he shoves his tongue in. His instant moan stirs the pool of sourness in my stomach, and I gag. With every ounce of energy I have, I bring my leg up, smashing my knee into his balls. He howls, his mouth leaving mine. The relief of his absence only lasts a beat before his open palm slaps me across the face.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he pants.

  “Fuck you. You’re sick.” I wipe at my lip. A droplet of blood where my tooth bit into my lip.

  He shakes his head, a cynical laugh following his evil smirk. “Don’t tempt me, little girl. All this playing hard to get makes me want you more. I know this is just a game. You want me to fight for you. Make me show you who’s in charge. Do you want to call me Daddy and beg me to undress you and kiss away all your pain?” He cups his covered cock and strokes himself, his eyes glossing over with arousal. “Or do you want me to punish you for being such a disobedient, little slut?” His hand drops, and he squeezes my breast. “You shouldn’t have let your stepbrother touch you.” He squeezes tighter, and I yelp. “You were mine to touch.”

  “Please don’t,” I cry.

  “Did you let him fuck you in this house? Under Mommy and Daddy’s roof?” He snickers, but the thought only angers him more. “Has he been inside this little mouth?” He presses the gun to my lips, shoving the barrel into my mouth. His hand starts to shake. Bile rises up my throat, and I gag around the metal. “It’s one thing to have a daddy fetish, but your own stepbrother? That, I can’t stand for. It’s only right I show you—fuck you so that you know how it is to be with a real man.”

  A guttural cry breaks from my lips. Tears coat my cheeks. I worry that the vibration of my quivering body is going to cause his finger to slip. “Please. Please don’t.” I plea, but it comes out garbled as I choke on the barrel of his gun. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do what you want, please. . .”

  Through my tears, I see the satisfaction in his gaze. He removes the gun from my mouth.

  “Please, just let me up. We can talk.”

  He stares down at me, contemplating.

  “Please. Like in the classroom, you can show me what we can be.”

  I’m fighting to keep my composure. Inside, I’m screaming in panic. If he thinks I’m lying, he’s going to hurt me. I need to buy myself time. Mom and William have to come home sooner or later. Hunter will have to come home. Someone will. Someone has to. I bite my lip to stop the dread from rising. If no one does...

  “You want to talk?” he questions doubtfully.

  I nod too quickly. “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “How can I show you if you have me like this? You’re scaring me. This isn’t how you were in the classroom.”

  My comment makes him draw back, and he withdraws. He’s off me instantly and stands. He gives me his hand to help me up. “You’re right, you’re right. I shouldn’t be so aggressive. But you do this to me. I’ve been waiting, and—I’m an impatient man, you see.”

  I take his hand and stand. Dizziness washes over me, and I fight not to pass out. “I just want you. I’ve wanted you ever since I heard about you. It was only a matter of time before I got a taste for myself. Warm, tight, barely ripe.”

  He starts to zone out again, getting lost in his own sick fantasy. I knee him in the balls again and try to dash up the stairs, but he lunges forward and captures my leg, and we both go down. My body crashes to the ground, my face smacking against the carpet. Blood bursts from my nose as I scream out in agony. A tearing sensation burns from my abdomen, and I choke on my next breath. My hand shoots up to cradle my ribcage, but he’s crawling up my back, pressing my hand to the floor.

  * * *

  “You little bitch. I should have known. Once a tease, always a tease.” His heavy body blankets over mine and I bellow out a horrid cry when I feel the hardness of his cock grind against my ass. “I should fuck you like this and leave you for Mommy and Daddy to find.
Maybe I’ll leave traces of your stepbrother to really solidify my story.” He grinds into me again, his erection throbbing between my cheeks. “Fuck, Cat…you make me so hard; I’m going to regret losing you.”

  What? What does that mean? “Oh, god, please don’t. Please don’t do this,” I beg between sobs.

  “I think we’re past negotiating. You ruined that for yourself. You almost got me there for a second. Really made me think we could work this out. But now, you’re simply collateral damage. And I can’t have you ruining my career, the life I’ve worked so hard to build. You understand that, right?”

  I scream out, “Help! Someone, help me!”

  My hair is tugged back, and Mr. Gibson’s face is mere inches from mine. “Don’t bother. No one will hear you.

  “Mom and William will be home any minute. You won’t get away with this.”

  He laughs, but it's void of humor. “I followed them to make sure they wouldn’t be. After just finding out their kids are sleeping together, can you believe they simply walk off and go grocery shopping? That’s how easily you can be erased. When no one loves you, it’s easy to make you disappear.”

  I wrestle under him, my body bucking in hopes of loosening his hold on me. “You’re a sick piece of shit. You think no one is going to miss me? Just think about how no one is going to miss you when you’re in jail, you sick asshole. You won’t get away with this—ow!” I howl in agony. His fist tugs my head back with such force, a layer of hair tears from my scalp.

  “Says the little whore. You don’t think I know who you are? What you did? Mommy’s little slut daughter lets her boyfriend violate her.”

  I jerk underneath him. “Fuck you.”

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Just like you liked being touched by a man who could be your daddy. So naughty, you are. I know all about you. Your assaulter sat next to me at a bar one night. Had one too many and decided to tell me, a perfect stranger, about the little mishap that cost him his girlfriend. He told me all about you. How sweet you were. How hot and tight he knew your cunt was going to be. And how disappointed he was when you got caught. Oh, the things he had planned if your mommy hadn’t walked in.”

  A sob tears up my throat as I continue to struggle. “You’re fucking sick! Get off me!”

  His laughter churns my stomach, and I fight down the bile.

  “I’m the sick one? Please. I’m exactly what you crave—a real man willing to take care of you, pay you the attention you desire. I could have given you all that, but you had to fuck it up. You had to fuck him.”

  Using my nails as my only weapon, my hands flail out and make contact, scraping down his face. He howls out, and I thrust backward, causing him to lose balance. I hurry up and take off toward the kitchen, stumbling as I run. I reach for the backdoor, my hands shaking. I can’t turn the knob fast enough. I get the door open just as he approaches and take off toward the garage. Just a few more steps. I’ll lock myself in Mom’s car. She always leaves a set of keys in the visor.

  I throw the garage door open and run inside just as Mr. Gibson tackles me to the ground. I scream out as my shoulder smacks against the concrete.

  “Not so fast, whore.”

  “Help! Someone help!” I scream out. His hand covers my mouth, muffling my plea. I bite his palm, and he releases his hand. I tilt my head to the side to scream out again when I see them. Mom and William. Bound and unconscious in the corner.

  “You had a good thing, whore. Now, you’ll have nothing.”

  His fist rears back and smashes into my nose, creating a world of darkness around me.

  Chapter 17

  Catalina

  “Your mom’s gonna be home late again. Want to order in and watch a movie? Your pick.”

  His playful smile is tantalizing, addictive. Sometimes, I think it’s meant for only me. “You’re gonna let me pick? The last couple of times, you fought me.” Like every other time, he ignores the open seats on the other couch and takes up the space next to me. Our thighs brush as he sits, but he doesn’t make a move to create space between us. He hands me the remote, and I accept it, hoping to hide the faint shake of my hand.

  “I’m feeling generous tonight. Pick something you’ve been dying to watch.” He gazes down at me, and I know his words have another meaning. To tell him what I want. Finally, show him. My stomach clenches with indecision. With desperation. My skin sparks with the need to be touched. Seen. He sees me. He shouldn’t, but he does.

  The tension between us is so thick, I feel strung out around him. I want to cross the line with him. Give him exactly what he wants. What I’ve become obsessed with. His secret touches. Intimate glances. This is wrong. I shouldn’t allow it. But I don’t know how to stop it.

  The television flicks on, and I turn it to a particular station. Soft panting echoes from the TV as I feel Kenneth tense beside me. “You told me anything I want. I want this.”

  His eyes are glued to the screen where a man is ravaging a beautiful young woman. It’s dirty and sexual. Hot and disturbing. “What are you doing?” His strained voice heats my core, and I push further.

  “You can change it if you want.” His dilated eyes fall to the remote in my hand resting against my thigh. Reaching out, he covers my hand with his. But he doesn’t take the remote. He skims upward until his large palm rests against my bare thigh.

  “What are you doing, Cat?”

  I bite down on my bottom lip, and my body starts to hum under his touch. I spread my thighs wider. His heavy intake of breath jolts me, and I fight not to push his hand farther up my skirt. My sex throbs. The arousal I feel is tinged with shame, but I can’t stop it. I won’t. I need this.

  Like I knew he would, he takes the bait.

  His hand, large and warm, presses harder onto my thigh. “Is this what you want, sweet girl? For me to touch you?”

  My voice is broken. I can’t work up the words to beg, to plead. I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to tell him exactly what I want from him. My lips part as I wet my bottom lip, aching to have his lips on mine. I need to know what he tastes like. Are his lips as soft as they appear? Guilt and lust swirl in my stomach like a tornado as I lean forward. His eyes dilate as my body begins to shake with need. He inches forward, slowly, teasing me. His heated gaze is locked on my lips. Slowly, he leans down—

  “What in heavens? Catalina, what are you doing!”

  Catalina…

  Catalina…

  “Catalina. Fuck, wake up. Cat!”

  The memory suddenly fades away, disappearing into the darkness of my subconscious as I’m jarred awake by the muffled sounds of my name. A sharp blast of pain radiates from my shoulder, and I moan out in agony.

  “Cat, thank God. Cat, look at me.”

  I hear his voice, but I struggle to see. “Where—where—?”

  “I’m right here. Follow my voice.”

  He’s to my right. I shift to my side and cry out in anguish. “Shit,” I hiss, trying to cradle my shoulder, but my wrists are tied. I fight through the dizziness and pain, forcing a slow, deep breath. I take in my surroundings. It’s dark. The cement floor is cold. The faint smell of chlorine lingers in the humid air. The pool. We’re in the swim coach’s office. Through the dimness of the room, I spot a silhouette a few feet away slumped over. “Hunter?”

  “Yeah, are you okay? You’re hurt.”

  “My shoulder. I think it’s dislocated.”

  “Okay. Anything else? Did he hurt you? Did he—?”

  “No. I don’t think so. Or I don’t feel if—”

  “It’s fine. He’s gonna be back soon. We’ve gotta get outta here.” The thought of facing him again sends me into a fit of hysteria. My chest burns. My body begins to tremble in fear. “Cat, look at me.”

  “He’s crazy. He’s going to kill us. He’s going to—”

  “No, he’s not. Because we’re gonna get out of here. Cat, fucking look at me.”

  I try to focus on him. Through the shadows, I can s
ee his face. Blood. “Hunter, you’re bleeding. Oh my God. What did he do to you? He told me—Mom and William—oh God, Hunter, he did something to them. I saw them in the—”

  “Listen. We’ll figure that all out later. Right now, we need to get out of here. Are you able to sit up?”

  I try to sit up but fall back, howling at the tearing in my ribcage, my shoulder again slamming into the hard ground. White spots blind my vision, and I fight not to throw up from the pain. “I can’t. It hurts. My ribs—”

  “Cat, yes you can. You have to fight. If we don’t, we’re as good as dead.” My body convulses, a shudder of fear shooting down my flesh at the idea of his hands on me again. “You gotta try. Try!”

  Hunter’s stern voice reins me in. I suck in a deep breath and count to three, fighting through the stabbing pain in my ribcage. Clenching my muscles, I push myself into a seated position.

  “Yes, good job. I need you to slide over to me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tied to a desk. You’re not.” Pulling in every ounce of willpower I have, I scoot toward him. With every inch, I silently yell. Any type of movement is pure agony. “There you go.” I maneuver so my back is resting against his side, and I blindly search for his hands until I feel them. Frantically, I tug at the knot.

  “It’s stuck. I can’t get it. I can’t. He’s going to come back—”

  “Cat, breathe.”

  “I can’t! He’s going to come back and, oh wait, I got it—”

  “Well, aren’t you two cute? I see you’ve finally woken up.” My head cocks back at the sound of his voice. My fingers scurry, trying to pull at Hunter’s restraints, but a wretched scream bellows from my throat as Mr. Gibson shoves his fist into my hair and heaves me backward.

  “Let her fucking go!” Hunter yells, but Mr. Gibson only laughs.

  “You should have let her go. You both wouldn’t be in this situation if you kept your disgusting hands off her.” He drops me, and I crumble at his feet. “What kind of filth fucks his stepsister?”