“Wow, Jake, Patty is gorgeous! You lucky devil.” She threw the picture of his wife down upon him. It landed on his lap.
“Oh my God...so this is Amber Skye!” she exclaimed.
Dr. Bentley hated to see her holding a picture of his innocent daughter, as if, just by touching the photograph, Hillary could harm her. The picture was forever tainted.
“You must be so proud of her. She looks like she belongs on the cover of one of those child magazines,” Hillary commented. “Look at those chubby, rosy cheeks...delicious!”
She licked her lips as she tossed the photo to the floor and continued inspecting the contents of his wallet.
“Oooh, lookie here,” she said, her eyes aglow with mischief as she pulled out his driver’s license.
Dr. Bentley looked on in horror.
“So you’ve agreed to donate your organs...how very noble of you. Of course, I don’t think they’ll be much use once I’m done,” she said with a chuckle. “Jacob W. Bentley...hmmm, what does the ‘W’ stand for?”
Dr. Bentley ignored her.
Hillary grew angry. She slapped him across the face, leaving her handprint across his left cheek.
“William,” he groaned.
“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me, just like I was good enough to answer all of your God-damned questions when I was tied up to that bed. Do you understand me?”
Dr. Bentley started nodding somberly but quickly added a resigned “yes.”
“Good, then. Oh...how far away is Summerville?”
“A couple hours away,” he replied, lying. It was just a forty-five minute drive from Patrick’s house.
“Really?” she asked skeptically. “Where exactly are we, by the way? Are we still in South Carolina?”
“Yes, not far from the coast.”
Hillary wondered how she would find her way around once she was done with him. She had practiced driving only a few times and didn’t have a chance to take the driver’s education class at school. She supposed she could wing it. She couldn’t afford to get pulled over and taken to jail. She wondered if Dr. Bentley owned a gun. She made a mental note to search for one before she left. Maybe she could take a cab. She thumbed through the pile of bills within the pocket of the billfold. Dr. Bentley had eighty-nine dollars. It might be enough for carfare, and if not.... If not, it would be the cab driver’s unlucky day. She glanced back down at the driver’s license in her hand.
“I bet Juniper Lane is in a great neighborhood,” she remarked, making it clear to him that she now knew exactly where he lived—and more importantly, where she could find his wife and daughter.
“You stay away from my home,” he warned nervously.
“Or else what? What can you do to stop me?” she laughed.
“Leave my family alone. They’ve done nothing to you...they’re innocent....”
“I used to be innocent too. Did that stop bad things from happening to me?”
“Believe me, Hillary, if there’s any way I could travel back in time and prevent those bad things from happening to you, I would. You didn’t deserve that. Your father deserved to die.”
“And me? Do I deserve to die? Because that’s what would have happened if you didn’t untie me.”
“No, you don’t deserve to die, Hillary.”
“Liar!” she spat out furiously.
“I’m the one who untied you...do you think I would have untied you if I thought you deserved to die? I felt sorry for you, Hillary, I truly did. You don’t deserve to suffer any more than you have.”
Hillary was crying. She had been victimized long enough. She was done being the victim.
“I want to help you Hillary,” Dr. Bentley continued.
Hillary wiped the tears from her face.
“I don’t need your help,” she said angrily, “save your breath. You can’t trick me into letting you go. I’m going to have my fun with you, and when I’m done, I’m going to have my fun with your wife and daughter.”
“No, you—”
“Shut up!” she shouted. “No one’s innocent. I’m going to make them suffer just as much as I’m going to make you suffer.”
Hillary dropped the wallet and driver’s license on the floor. Then she reached down and picked up a long metal skewer. Before Dr. Bentley had a chance to realize what she was holding, she stabbed it through his burnt scrotum. He screamed in agony as he looked down at his swollen, blackened, bleeding testicles. He looked into Hillary’s hateful eyes. She stared back in disgust, her murderous glare forcing him to look away. There was no way to reason with her, nothing he could say to stop her from killing him and then going after his family.
“Do you want to hear what I’m going to do to your little girl?”
No, God no, he cried to himself. But he knew that it was all part of Hillary’s power play. He had to act disinterested...somehow.
“Whatever,” he panted between moans, hoping that she would drop the subject. No such luck.
“I’m going to cut your cock off and stick it in her,” Hillary said, grinning.
Her sick comment made Dr. Bentley shudder. There was no doubt that Hillary was capable of doing just that. He couldn’t bear the thought of his daughter suffering at the hands of this psychopath. He lost it.
“YOU SICK FREAK! STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!” He yelled loudly, as he tried with all his might to twist free from the bondage. His throat felt raw.
“Really, Jakey, as though you can stop me. I’m going to make them suffer and there’s nothing that you can do about it,” she said, laughing loudly. “I wonder how loud Amber Skye will scream....”
Dr. Bentley broke down and started sobbing. The mental abuse was far worse than the physical abuse had been. With all the adrenaline coursing through his system, he could barely feel his throbbing testicles. All he could think about was Amber Skye’s blood-streaked face, contorted in pain, calling out to him, pleading for him to help her. He had promised her that he would always protect her. He had sworn to her that there were no such things as monsters. He had lied.
Hillary grabbed a hold of the metal skewer that pierced his scrotum and moved it left and right, toward him and away from him like a joystick. Each movement sent a nauseating pulse through him. Rather than hurt, it felt overly sensitive, as if Hillary were tickling his nerve endings. It was in no way pleasant; on the contrary, it was a sickening, revolting sensation that only ended once Hillary pulled the metal skewer free from his damaged testicles. To his disgust she licked the blood and bits of tissue smeared upon the metal.
“Awww...your balls are bleeding,” she said impishly. “I’d better cauterize that wound.”
She reached down and grabbed the straightening iron from the floor. It was one of those models that automatically shut off after a prolonged period without use.
“Shit,” she cried, “now I have to wait for it to heat up again.”
Dr. Bentley was greatly relieved, for a few seconds anyway, before anxiety flooded his senses. Bathed in sweat and shaking with fear, he begged Hillary not to hurt him. He tried reasoning with her as he cried, all the while knowing that it would do no good. He knew he was merely feeding Hillary’s sadistic hunger, but he could not help himself. Instinctively, he begged for mercy and compassion, traits that Hillary simply did not possess and was therefore incapable of giving. With abandoned hope, he sobbed like a child.
“Poor Jakey,” she teased maliciously, “I’d like to tell you that it won’t hurt much...I’d like to tell you that it’s going to be okay for you...that you’re going to live to see your family....”
She picked up the straightening iron and gave him a chillingly eerie glare as she held his penis in her other hand. His stomach churned, wrenched with unparalleled fear and anxiety. He knew what was coming next. His heart pounded within his tightening chest.
“...but I don’t want to lie to you,” she finished, as she placed his penis within the plates of the straightening iron and pressed the handles t
ogether, engulfing his flattened penis within the scorching instrument of torture. Dr. Bentley felt a white-hot explosion of unimaginable pain and screamed in agony as Hillary laughed hysterically at the sight, sound and smell of his smoldering manhood. He had thought that pain had a limit but he was discovering intricate and horrendous levels of pain that he didn’t know was possible.
Hillary removed the iron ten excruciatingly insufferable seconds later and inspected her handiwork. Dr. Bentley’s penis was a blackened burgundy color, swollen and glistening with painful blisters. Hillary dug her nails along the shiny, raw shaft of his badly burned penis, drawing blood. A whole new level of pain introduced itself to Dr. Bentley as he gasped for air. He was breathing rapidly, his heart racing. He knew he could no longer withstand the pain. He let out a distressing moan, threw his head back, closed his eyes and awaited the blissful, numbing darkness.
“No!” Hillary shouted. “You can’t die yet!”
She was seething with rage. She had only just begun having fun with him. She still had so much in store for the handsome doctor. She reached out to strike him and stopped short when she heard the familiar ringtone chiming. His phone was ringing again.
Angrily, Hillary walked over to the table to retrieve it. She stared at the name displayed on the screen: Patty. It was Dr. Bentley’s wife again.
“Yes, Patty?” Hillary answered tersely.
“Put my husband on the phone,” Patty demanded.
“What? Are you kidding me? Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“Tell me...just who am I speaking with?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Hillary said excitedly, “I’ll go over there and show you.”
“Well come on over,” Patty insisted, having no clue whatsoever that she was inviting a crazed psychopath into her home. She was curious to meet this person who claimed to be her husband’s girlfriend. She didn’t believe it for a second. She thought, more likely, that Jake had misplaced his phone and this horrible woman had found it and was playing games with her. Even if this person was his mistress, she was more than willing to meet with her and get to the bottom of this. She’d give her a piece of her mind, and maybe a good slap across the face as well.
“You’re just saying that...you won’t let me in. You’ll be too afraid to face me, to learn the truth,” Hillary said tauntingly, defying Patty to welcome her into her home.
“I don’t think you have the nerve to show up here,” Patty retorted.
“I can be there in a couple of hours,” she replied confidently.
“Uh-huh,” Patty said skeptically, “so you know where I live?”
“Of course I know where you live…I’ve been in your bed.”
The thought of Jake bringing another woman into their home made Patty sick to her stomach. She didn’t really believe this woman. Surely it was just a sick joke or misunderstanding.
“So where do I live then?”
“Juniper Lane,” Hillary replied without hesitation. She heard Patty let out a gasp.
Patty was speechless. This was no random person who had happened upon her husband’s lost cell phone.
“Where’s Jake?” she asked impatiently. She wanted answers. “Put him on the phone.”
“Nope. I’m going to wash up and then visit you. Then we can talk all about it...if you have the guts.”
“Oh I have the guts,” Patty answered angrily. She heard a click. Hillary had ended the call.
“Oh yes, I’m sure you have lovely, lovely guts. I’m going to rip them out of you and strangle you with them,” Hillary said aloud, venting her anger over Dr. Bentley’s untimely demise. At least her fun wasn’t going to end just yet. She would have two more people to play with. She could hardly wait to meet sweet little Amber Skye. Children were especially fun to play with. She would tie her up and make her watch as she tortured her mother. Even before putting a hand on her, Hillary would terrorize her. Then the real fun would begin.
Jake stayed perfectly still, feigning his death. He couldn’t believe his luck. The overwhelming pain had caused him to hyperventilate and nearly pass out. He held his breath and pretended to die, hoping it would spare him from the prolonged agony. He was striving for a short break from the pain and had gotten so much more than he bargained for. It was perfect timing that his wife had called. Hillary never checked to make sure that he was in fact dead. The irritating phone call from his wife provided the perfect distraction.
On one hand, he knew that Hillary had every intention of going to his home and torturing his family, and the mere thought distressed him more than anything. Yet, he knew that once Hillary left Dr. Morrison’s house, he could call Patty and warn her—tell her to take Amber Skye and get out of there. He’d have more than enough time...if...IF he could somehow break free from the duct tape that tightly bound his upper body to the seat. At least Hillary had freed his legs. His mind raced with thoughts of escape as he made a conscious effort to breathe slowly and shallowly. The last thing he needed was for Hillary to realize that he was alive. He could hear her gathering up the items from the floor not too far away from him. He surmised that she was packing up her tools of torture for use on his wife and daughter. Though his heart raced and his mind screamed and shouted, he held his breath and stayed perfectly still.
With the shopping bag in hand, Hillary approached him. He could sense that she was nearby. His heart thundered within his chest. He wondered if Hillary could hear it pounding. Terrified, he struggled to keep from visibly shaking. He held his breath for as long as he could bear, taking slow, shallow breaths in between.
Hillary crouched down and picked up Dr. Bentley’s wallet, driver’s license and credit cards. She threw them into the bag then walked over to the table. She placed both cell phones into the bag and walked out of the room. Hillary went straight to Monica’s room to find something to wear.
She’d have to wear a dress since she was much thinner than Monica. There was no chance that her jeans or shorts would fit her. The white dress she had put on earlier would have been perfect, but now it was ruined. None of the other dresses Monica owned appealed to her. Either they were too formal or too unstylish. Not that Hillary cared about fashion but she just didn’t want to draw attention to herself in a big, drab dress. She wondered if the floral dress had any blood on it.
She padded back to the room where she once spent her long days tied to a bed, bored and lonely, while her hatred festered. Now she had taken vengeance on those responsible, or at least most of those responsible. She knew she needed to work quickly. It would only be a matter of time before the bodies were discovered. She walked over to the dress that had been discarded on the floor. There was no way she could wear it. Not only did it have blood on it, but urine and possibly vomit as well. The room was a disgusting mess. She sighed heavily as she stormed out of the room.
Dr. Bentley sighed quietly in relief. He had his eyes open when she entered the room. He hadn’t heard her coming. He’d thought for sure he had been caught. Thankfully, she must not have glanced his way. He couldn’t tell what she was doing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Hillary was rummaging through Monica’s dresser drawers hoping to find a pair of leggings and a tee shirt. She found a decent-enough shirt but no leggings. Leave it to Monica to have a difficult wardrobe. She pulled out a stack of jeans. With any luck, there would be a pair of stretch jeans, or skinny jeans that wouldn’t look too terribly on her. She checked the tags inside. All of the jeans were labeled size five. They would swim on her skin-and-bones body. She used to be a size two. Now, thanks to Dr. Morrison’s liquid IV diet, she doubted that a size one would fit.
Growing aggravated, Hillary raced back to the closet. She couldn’t waste time worrying about what to wear. She pulled a plain cotton dress off one of the hangers and slipped it on. It was baggy and unflattering but she didn’t care. She wasn’t trying to win a beauty contest. Besides, in a couple of hours, it would look just as bad as the white, or rather, formerly white dress. Hi
llary tried on some of the shoes and settled on pair of canvas sneakers. Even with the thickest pair of socks Hillary could find, they were still about two sizes too big on her. She then walked to the bathroom, washed her hands and face and ran Monica’s hairbrush through her tangled hair. She looked like a mess, but it was the least of her concerns. She needed to find out where she was and how to get a cab to pick her up.
Hillary jogged to Dr. Morrison’s office and began searching his desk for mail. She needed to know the address of the house she was in. Dr. Morrison’s laptop was on and she noticed the report he had mentioned working on. It was dated August 25, 2012. She scrolled up to the top of the document. Though Dr. Morrison had referred to her as “the subject,” it was readily apparent that the report was about her. She wanted to rush out of the house and be on her way to Dr. Bentley’s house, but curiosity got the best of her and she started reading the report.
The report was being prepared for Lieutenant Alan Langford, the same military man who had recruited Dr. Morrison for his research. Dr. Morrison had written some horrible things about Hillary, though, to be fair, Hillary acknowledged that most of the things he mentioned had been true. He didn’t mention that he raped me, Hillary thought resentfully.
Although it was difficult for Hillary to understand some of Dr. Morrison’s technical and medical terminology, one thing was clear. He was recommending her termination. He stated that her “...disturbingly deep psychosis prevented her from being a viable candidate” for his Neuronentin research. Apparently, she was an incurable psychopath and needed to be disposed of. Look who ended up terminated! Hillary joked to herself. Dr. Morrison had gotten what he deserved. Monica and Dr. Bentley as well. Now it was time to finish up...starting with Dr. Bentley’s picture-perfect family.
After writing down Lieutenant Langford’s contact information, Hillary deleted the report. Supposedly, no one except Lieutenant Langford knew she was there, and she wanted to keep it that way. She was dead to the world. That suited her perfectly fine. Then she wouldn’t be accountable for the atrocities she left behind. No one would search for her. To be safe, she would destroy the laptop before she left.
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