by Dori Lavelle
“Don’t play games with me, ma chérie. The rules are simple. Obey or you die.”
My eyes flicker to Damien. I’m unable to read the reaction from his eyes as they are shut. But the heat of his rage burns through the air between us only for his helplessness to cool it again. His eyes open. Our eyes lock. He gives me a barely visible nod.
I shake my head, sprinkling tears on the floor. He can’t expect me to do what Judson is asking. Isn’t he as disgusted as I am?
For a flash of a moment, I wonder if they had planned to share me all along, whether all this was meant to happen. Had Damien really planned on letting me go, or had he made arrangements for his brother to show up at the right time, so they can play this dirty game with me?
But it can’t be. Why would Damien put himself through the pain for a few moments of pleasure? Watching him I know his helplessness and anger are not an act. No way. The undiluted anger between the two brothers is unmistakable, so heavy it sucks oxygen from the air.
Judson Devereux, the evil twin, is acting alone.
Fed up with my disobedience, Judson spins me around to face him and shoves my panties down then lifts each of my feet so I can step out of them. “Quit making this harder on yourself.” Drops of spit land on my nose as he gives me yet another warning. “I can do worse than this, trust me.” He shoves me toward Damien.
“No,” I try to scream but he can’t hear me and doesn’t care either way.
He returns to his chair, one of his hands still holding his groin. He picks up the bag of crushed chips and leans back as though waiting for a movie to begin.
As I stand in front of Damien, tears streak my cheeks, cutting a hot path to my chin. I can’t do it.
Damien is looking up at me, his defeated eyes assuring me it’s all right. It’s not. How can he expect me to be okay with taking part in this disgusting power game?
We both jump when something cracks and whizzes past my ear. The bullet hits the wall inches from Damien’s head.
“What the fuck are you both waiting for?” Judson’s tone is as deadly as his bullet.
It hits me not for the first time that I have few choices in this matter. My only options are succumbing to acting like a whore or dying without a chance to escape.
It shouldn’t be a big deal, I tell myself. We’ve done this before. We’ve had sex, some of it raw and heartbreaking, some of it earth-shattering. But doing it with someone watching feels so dirty. The urge to puke thickens the saliva on my tongue.
Tears blind my eyes as I pull the waistband of Damien’s pajamas and reach inside, encircling his warm penis with my fingers, pulling it out. My tears drip onto his flesh.
“That’s right. Now give him a handjob to prepare him for the ride of his life.”
Given the trauma Damien has experienced and his lack of desire to participate, it takes ages for me to get his penis erect with my bound hands. My shoulders sink with relief when it hardens in my hands, taking both of us by surprise. My stomach twists when it dawns on me that there’s no longer anything stopping me from having sex with him.
“Good girl,” Judson says. “Now fuck him. It’s not as if you haven’t done it before.”
I swallow hard and shut my eyes as I settle into Damien’s lap. Holding my bound hands to my chest, he slides into me as he had done not too long ago.
Humiliation floods my entire being. I can’t open my eyes, can’t look into Damien’s eyes. I wish I could hide from the whole world. But even when my eyes refuse to look, I feel Damien’s gaze on my face and Judson’s stabbing me in the back, a twisting blade. I refuse to think about what he’s doing while watching us. My stomach twists at the thought he might be jerking off.
My cheeks burning with humiliation, I rock against Damien, finding no shred of pleasure whatsoever. I force my mind to conjure up images of comforting things, things beyond this room, beyond this town. Oaklow, the first time I entered the campus, the rush of freedom I’d felt then. My father, my few friends, anyone who has ever meant anything to me. I call to mind any moment that has ever brought me a shred of joy. I think of my life before I lost it.
Despite the bleak circumstances, Damien hardens and lengthens even more inside me. I don’t stop. I keep going, doing as I’m told, holding on to however many minutes Judson will allow me to live.
How can Damien’s body respond when all I feel is disgust? How can he be in pain and still feel aroused? Then again, not too long ago when we had made love for the first time—when I was his prisoner—my body had responded even though I had not wanted it to.
A few minutes later, Damien stiffens and jolts as he comes inside me. A sound like that of a tortured animal escapes his body. He buries his sweating face into my shoulder.
I open my eyes and wait for Judson to give us the next instructions. When he doesn’t, I twist my body to look at him, tears dripping from my eyes. I’m relieved to find his jeans zipped up, his penis out of sight. He had not been jerking off to our humiliation.
“Get off him, you whore.”
His words cut deep but I ignore the pain. I rise off Damien’s lap, his penis sliding out of me. My gaze is averted as I go to pick my panties from the floor with both hands. Judson gets to them before I do.
“You don’t need these. You’re a filthy whore. Covering your shame won’t make it less true.” He tosses my panties toward the stairs. They fall on top of the broken bottle of gin.
Judson takes a few steps toward his brother, hands inside his pockets, back straight. “Look at you. As weak and pathetic as you used to be. Well, I hope you enjoyed that fuck. It’s one of my last gifts to you.” He pulls his hand from his pocket and ruffles Damien’s hair. “My final gift is death. I’m sure you’ll agree that this world can’t accommodate both of us. One of us has to die. That person isn’t me.”
Chapter Eight
Damien jerks at each word coming from Judson, as though his brother is shooting bullets straight into his chest. He slams his feet into the ground, sending dust flying in all directions. He’s unable to speak but his body language utters every word he longs to say. His anger vibrates across the room and slams against the walls. He attempts to free himself again but he’s helpless, forever at the mercy of his sadistic brother.
Even though Damien has done so much to torture me and almost drove me to my death, I feel every beat of his pain, the burning torture inside his soul. I realize that the man he is has everything to do with Judson, and without Judson, Damien could have been a better man. This truth hits my heart hard, cracking its edges.
My legs and feet feeling as though they’ve disappeared into thin air, I stumble toward the corner and slide to the floor, my knees together to hide my private parts.
Damien’s death will mean my own death. If Judson kills his own brother, his flesh and blood, why would he spare me? My fear is what Judson wants to see as he glances from me to Damien, looking for a reaction. I’m unable to hide it as my body is a trembling mess.
Why didn’t I die in the coffin? Why did Damien have to save me?
“Get over here.” Judson barks at me. “I’m not done with you.”
Panic riots within me as I get to my feet, using the wall for support. I can’t resist his request, not when a gun is pointed at me. I force myself to move forward.
He meets me halfway. To my horror he removes another handgun from his pocket and grabs me by the flimsy fabric of the negligée. The coolness of the gun digs into the skin under my chin. I sag with relief when he finally lowers it. The sigh of relief turns to ashes inside my throat when he grabs my hands and pushes a handgun between them, his strong hands tight around mine.
“Have you ever shot a gun, ma chérie?” His breath is an unforgiving inferno on my cheek, burning its way through the layers of my skin.
I shake my head, biting back the sudden urge to throw up as I read his sick mind.
“That’s okay. Allow me to demonstrate.” He shoves the second gun into his waistband before he moves behind me. Fea
r melts the strength from my hands. I let go of the weapon and it falls into Judson’s hand. My reward is a stabbing pain between the shoulder blades as the elbow of his free arm meets my back.
The sound of pain that pours out of me is like sandpaper on the surface of my throat.
“You have two choices. I can make this easy for you or we could go the hard way. Let’s start easy.” He wraps my fingers around the gun again and his lips brush my ear. “Do me a favor and kill my brother. Your reward will be a quick and painless death of your own. I’m thinking maybe pills? If you refuse to obey, I’ll cut your throat with the smallest razorblade you’ve ever set eyes on. The death will be so painful you’ll wish you were never born.”
For someone who, only a few days ago, had been ready to open the door to the other side and come face to face with death, being murdered by Judson terrifies the hell out of me.
My wild gaze lands on Damien. Eyes blank and glistening, lips bloodless, head slung against the wall behind him, he’s nothing but a shell of his former self.
His eyes are coated with tears. The man I thought was a monster, the man I thought had a hard core is crumbling before me. Judson raises the gun, my hands tucked beneath his. The target is Damien’s chest.
From the way my body is shaking, I’m in danger of pulling the trigger without being pushed.
Judson steadies my hand the best he can before letting go. My arms sink lower but he pushes them up again. The gun settles on its target.
“When you’re ready, pull the trigger.” Something hard and cool digs into the back of my neck. No one needs to tell me what it is.
I have two choices. I could shoot Damien as I’m told or turn around and shoot Judson. But in my crumbling state and given my inexperience with guns, there’s no way I’ll succeed at shooting Judson before he kills me first.
Damien’s Adam’s apple rises and falls as he swallows his fear of dying. For the first time since he kidnapped me, we share the same fears. He’s as much a victim as I am. I can’t do it. I don’t have it in me to take someone else’s life.
“What are you waiting for?” Judson presses the gun deeper into my skin. “I said blow his fucking brains out.”
I close my eyes and swallow the lump lodged in my throat. Should I kill myself and end the madness? It would be so easy to raise the gun to the place under my jaw and pull the trigger before he stops me. But my stubborn streak, refuses to let evil to triumph.
“Looks like someone needs a little motivation.” Judson steps away from me, the space he had occupied behind my back filling with cool air. I don’t turn but I hear him unzipping his bag. Within a matter of seconds, he comes to stand next to me. While still holding on to his gun, he’s fiddling with a rectangular box.
Before my brain catches up with my eyes, Damien grunts as though electrified. A fragile beeping sound pierces the silence like a needle, followed by a flash of red light.
Judson places the object between me and Damien. The color drains from my face when I spot the timer, counting down the last sixty minutes of my life. Judson straightens up, a smirk on his face. “You have sixty minutes to decide whether you’d rather swallow a few pills and die peacefully, or if you’d prefer to be blown to pieces. Looks like you don’t have much time to decide. In fact, I’m being generous with my time. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”
He returns to his chair and waits for me to commit murder.
Chapter Nine
The handgun slips from my trembling hands and falls at my feet. Terror sweeps through me as I lower my gaze to the weapon. A little voice tells me to pick it up, to do as I’m told before I’m punished. My mind screams for me to move, but chains of fear have wrapped themselves around my body. How would I be able to pull the trigger when I can’t even feel my hands? Maybe it’s for the best. I’m not a killer. What does it matter whether I kill Damien or not? I’ll die anyway and I don’t want to go to the grave with someone else’s blood on my hands.
Damien’s eyes widen as they meet mine, both relief and concern flooding them. From behind me I hear Judson’s heavy breathing.
His clothes rustle as he stands, the feet of his chair scraping the floor. His footsteps are heavy, vibrating across the entire floor. My body goes cold when he reaches me, picks up the gun, and moves behind me.
The heat of his breath scalds the back of my neck as his hand cups my chin. My back remains turned away from him, my eyes focused on Damien, the man who used to be my personal nightmare, the man who used to be a monster and is now giving me silent strength.
Judson pushes my chin up, tipping my head back so I face the cobwebbed ceiling. “Guess what?” Something cool and sharp touches my throat, pressing into the skin. I grit my teeth at the pinch the first cut makes. “I actually considered sparing your life. I wanted you to kill my brother and then I planned to give you a new life.” He moves the knife away from my neck and uses it to lift a lock of my hair. The fragile trickle of fresh blood trails down my throat and settles into the hollow of my neck. “Your red hair would have been popular with the gentleman I cater to. Such a shame you have to die in vain. So young, so exquisite.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and taste the metallic tang of blood. I want to take a breath, but my lungs feel as though they have shut down. Even though the cut of a knife is nothing new to me, I can’t imagine how painful it would be to have my throat slit. Certainly more painful than the cuts on my wrist but how would I know?
I close my eyes so all I see is darkness instead of Damien struggling to free himself from his chair.
Holding me in place with an arm around my neck, Judson brings the tip of the blade to my cheek and traces a path from my cheek to my chin. “This pretty face, this beautiful skin, all going to waste because of one stupid mistake. What a damn shame.” He brings the knife back to my cheek before returning it to my chin, this time slicing into my skin again, digging deeper into my flesh.
The blood warms my skin. It runs unhindered toward my chin and drips off to join the dust on the floor. I grit my teeth tighter so as not to cry out with pain, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing my agony. Then he lets me go, shoves me hard toward my chair. I fall to the ground, my forehead slams against the edge of the seat. I can’t describe the pain that cuts through my skull and flashes like lightning in my brain.
“Sit,” he barks at me.
Feeling as though the contents of my brain have been shaken several times, I push away the dizziness and try to haul myself to my knees. Something falls to the floor. My instinct tells me it’s Damien and his chair.
“You fool,” Judson approaches me. “You still think you can save her? Not going to happen.” He grabs me by the hair to a standing position and slams my butt onto the seat, so hard I swear my tailbone cracks. He unbinds my hands but only to wrap my arms around the back of the chair before binding them again. As he has done with Damien. He leaves my feet free.
Defeated and unable to hold my head upright, my chin hits my chest. I stare at the trail of warm blood that drips down my bare skin onto my breast.
“If the bomb goes off, you won’t be able to save her or yourself,” he says. “You’re both doomed to die a very painful death.” He pauses. “On second thought, I don’t mind escorting you both to hell. With both of you dead, my job here on earth would be done.”
I lift my eyelids a fraction to steal a glance at Damien who’s still on the floor, in the struggle to set himself free. Judson doesn’t help him but instead walks away from me. He picks up the ticking bomb and studies it for a moment before placing it back down on the floor. “Ready or not, this little guy will transport us all straight to hell.”
He whistles as he strides toward the stairs. “See you on the other side.” He climbs the staircase, taking one heavy step after the other, as though he has all the time in the world. As soon as the door slams shut, Damien’s heavy breathing fills the room, strained grunts and shuffling as he tries to get to the bomb, which is now in the center of the room. W
hat will he do when he gets to it? Even if he happens to have the skills to deactivate a bomb, there’s nothing he can do with his hands behind his back. He struggles more, and slams his head into the floor with exhaustion before lifting it up again.
I want to help him, to help us, but I don’t have enough energy left in me to fight only to end up losing.
My heart sinks when Damien, too, stops trying to get to the bomb. Blood is seeping through the bandages around his injured arm.
Closing my eyes, I listen to the beeping sounds coming from the small machine that’s about to take our lives and end it all. I want to know how much time we have left but I’m unable to see the counter as I’m too far away. For the second time in my life, I try to make friends with death. It doesn’t work this time as I struggle with the fear of being blown to pieces and having my skin and flesh melt in flames.
A strange sound cuts through the silence and my eyes fly open. My first thought is that Judson has returned to deactivate the bomb. Maybe it was all a game to him, a way to frighten us and he didn’t actually plan on letting it go off. I raise my drowsy gaze to the top of the stairs but he doesn’t appear. The door remains closed. But that sound is still there, the sound of metal against metal. Damien must have heard it too because I see him struggle to lift his head to listen. The sound is not coming from the stairs but from another area of the room, from behind one wall.
Suddenly, in my peripheral vision, I detect a movement. I turn to look just in time to see a door opening at one end of the room. It had looked so much like part of the wall that I hadn’t noticed it.
Relief gushes through me when Adrian emerges, dressed all in black, gun in hand.
Tears of joy choke my throat. I bounce up and down on my chair to catch his attention, even though he can clearly see both of us.
Both Damien and I take turns making incoherent sounds, pleading for Adrian to set us free.