“No!” I yell.
“Yes, look at it.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Now open your eyes and keep them on the bunny.” He grips my hair and pulls back so hard that it forces me to open my eyes. “Keep those pretty eyes open. Failure to do so will result in punishment.”
Tears form in my eyes. “Please don’t do this …” I thought he wanted to fuck me. I would’ve been okay with just fucking. But this … this is just torture.
He ignores my pleas, and instead, walks to my ass again, pushing the tip of his cock against me. I shake my head, pleading. “Please, don’t make me look.”
He tugs on my hair, forcing my head up. “Open. Your. Eyes. Do not take them off the bunny.”
He pushes his cock into my ass. I squeal as the pain is intense, worse than the butt plug. It’s hard, and full, and oh so different from anything I’ve felt before. My muscles tense and I fight against the restraints, trying to escape this scene. I don’t want to be forced to look at those goddamn bunnies. I hate them. Fucking hate them. I’ve not hated something so much since … since … no, I can’t go there.
“Please …” I mutter as he starts fucking me harder.
“Shhh …” he says. “Let me claim your ass.” He groans loud as he thrusts in and out, faster and faster. “Fuck, you have such a tight ass,” he growls. “Keep those eyes on the bunny.” He tugs my hair back. “See that? It’s all that’s standing between me and your pussy. I’m not going to fuck your wet pussy yet, oh no, you have to deserve it first.”
“Like I want that!” I blurt out from anger.
He spanks my ass so hard a tear trickles down my cheek. “Stop lying, I know your pussy is desperate for a cock, but I’m not going to give it to you unless you fucking look at the bunny and tell me everything. Everything, Miss Carrigan. I won’t take anything less.”
I whimper as he fucks me relentlessly, making my ass sore and my pussy wetter. I try not to look at the bunny and all the memories it pushes to the surface. With each thrust, he forces them to the forefront of my mind, those painful thoughts I don’t want to remember. Tears run amok now, filling me with grief, anger, pain. Lust has made the place for hatred as he rams his cock into me. I hate it, I hate being here, I hate everything.
“Take it,” he yells. “Take my cock into that filthy ass of yours and tell me all about your dirty secrets.”
“Fuck you!” I yell.
“Yes, yes, I will, and I’m enjoying myself thoroughly. If you don’t fucking tell me, I’m going to come inside you. Do you want that, huh? Do you want my hot cum in your little hole?”
“No!” I yell, jerking on the restraints, but it’s no use. I’m confronted with a scene that I can’t ignore any longer.
“I guess I’ll have to give it to you then since you don’t listen to me. A cum-dripping ass might make you obey. You ready for it?”
Before I can respond, he thrusts deep, his cock pulsating and then exploding in my ass. His warm semen spurts into me, filling me up as he roars. Tension builds in my body as he comes inside me, tugging at my hair so hard that it’s impossible for me to divert my eyes from the stuffed bunny. I want to tear it all apart. The animals. Him. This place. Even myself.
I’m sobbing uncontrollably as the memories seep back into my mind.
The blood, the horror creeping under my skin as I witness the scenes that took place in my past. A hard slap on my ass brings all the fucked-up pieces of the puzzle together.
“Tell me what happened. Tell me everything! NOW!”
The words pour out of me like a stream of pure thoughts. “Mister Flufbuns. My pet bunny… they killed it. And then they murdered my mother.”
Accompanying song: “Chord Left” by Agnes Obel
Woodstock, Connecticut – January 29th, 2013
I used to watch the world in amazement. Enjoy the songs the birds sang as they flew over my head. I drew energy from the wind blowing my back, pushing me forward, spats of rain dropping onto my head, leaves rustling past my legs, the sun warming my skin, laughter filling my ears. I could go on and on about the things I loved—the things people never really stopped to think about it. Just listen. Stop and listen. Hear the world buzz, your heartbeat, life continuing forever.
I wanted to capture it all and show the beauty of this world to the people inhabiting it. My camera was my best friend. Never far away from me, I carried it around everywhere, any place I could imagine. Whether it was a school, my home, a family member’s house, the zoo, on vacation, or anywhere else, my camera and I were inseparable. Taking pictures was my way of witnessing this world, learning to love it. It was my way to forget about the deplorable situation back at home.
It wasn’t until my parents’ relationship deteriorated that I viewed the outside world as a place I didn’t want to live in anymore. My family was never a solid one. I didn’t realize this until I was old enough to leave for college, when the cracks in their love started showing. Going to college severed me from them, and in turn, they severed from each other. I was the thread that had kept them together.
I tried not to think about it and focused on college instead, which was very difficult. I missed my pet, Mister Flufbuns, a lot. He’d been my companion for such a long time, but I couldn’t take him with me, so my mom took care of him. The only thing I had to cheer me up during tough days was my camera. My father often visited me, my mother not at all. She and I never had the best relationship. We both had a phone, but she didn’t care to use it either. Except for that one phone call.
The day I heard my father was violently ill.
When I discovered how bad his situation was, I couldn’t continue. Not with anything. College was put on the back burner. Soon after, my father died.
We never knew why it happened or even how.
All I knew was that my mother never cared. Not one bit.
Or she was the world’s best actress. Either way, my world came tumbling down. Nothing could be worse than this. Or so I thought.
That one phone call gives the word ‘evil’ a whole different meaning. Evil tells me to come home. It isn’t a question. There isn’t even an if in my mind. The moment my mother is mentioned, everything comes crashing down upon me.
Vacation with my best friend Ashley comes to an abrupt end and I immediately pack my bags. Ashley comes with me as support. We both jump on the first plane we can catch and make our way to my home. Except, home isn’t home anymore.
What we find is hell.
My bunny. My sweet, cute pet, Mister Flufbuns.
Slaughtered.
Torn apart like a beast ravaged him and ate him alive.
Horror fills my lungs, preventing me from breathing as we walk into my backyard. I find his remains on the grass … on the stones … against the walls. Blood smeared all over. I step over the bones and skin, his fur scattered all across our yard.
It is there, in the midst of it all, that we find my mother.
Her lifeless body among the remains of my beloved Mister Flufbuns. Blood stains her chin, and a pool grows beneath her. Her chest is covered in fur and several puncture wounds have made holes in her chest. I stop to gasp and witness the scene, paralyzed. Horrified.
Evil lurks in the corners. Watching us. Prowling. Waiting for us to scream.
We tried to run, we really did.
But no one can escape the devil.
Accompanying song: “Chord Left” by Agnes Obel
Room 115. Providence, Rhode Island – May 8th, 2013
I am there with her.
I listen to her story and hear the words pour from her mouth like a waterfall rushing toward the vast ocean. She can’t stop. Words keep coming out in the form of mumbles, repeating over and over again. Her body shakes vehemently, so I immediately free her from her bonds. She almost collapses, but I catch her before she hits the floor. I sit down on the ground, shushing her. Her body lies sideways across the bench, her head fallen into my lap. I cradle her in my arms, pulling h
er close to me. Her cold nakedness catches me in a moment of weakness. In this moment, there is nothing more that I want than to take it all away again—to turn back time and remove myself from the equation, preventing her from ever remembering all the horrors her past has to hide. It’s killing her.
She shivers, sobbing, uttering words I can no longer understand. I find it hard not to feel anything. To keep compassion at bay. Compassion is the first step toward love. If I were to fall for her beautiful, broken soul, it would mean the end for us both. I could no longer keep her safe. But I can’t turn her down anymore. Fragile and waning, her life is at the edge of nothingness, and I am the only force keeping her here, keeping her in this world. From the things she tells me, I know she has no one else anymore. I am the only tether between living and dying for her. She needs me, so badly … how can I not be affectionate toward her right now?
I am surprised to find my own heart, still beating.
I can still be kind.
I am not just a bad man.
Or so I tell myself. Let myself think this, because she makes me want to believe it. I want to be a good man. If only it didn’t mean betrayal.
She’s stopped crying, and I take the opportunity to nuzzle her and say, “It’s going to be okay.”
She shoves herself away from me, searching my eyes for clues. And then she hits me.
She slaps me in the face.
“How dare you do that to me?” She hits me again. “You asshole!”
I don’t stop her.
She keeps hitting me, first in the face, but when she sees I won’t budge, she starts pushing and shoving her fists into my shirt. Tears roll down her cheeks as she fights me with fists and claws. Her rage bears down on me, and I will take it as well as I can. I clench my fists, ignoring the itching feeling that I should do something, hit back, or tie her up, but I won’t. This is what she needs right now, and I realize it’s part of the deal. I made her remember. I should bear the consequences.
“Do something!” she yells. “C’mon! Hit me!”
“No,” I say, calmly.
“Why? Why now? Why do you let me hit you?” she rages. “Fucking piece of shit!”
I shrug and she slaps me again then lets out a giant sigh. “Are you insane?”
“Yes,” I say, laughing.
She clenches her teeth and growls. “You don’t care even the slightest bit?”
“Oh, I do.” I lift an eyebrow. “You should know you’re the first woman I’ve ever let hit me,” I smirk. “Take that as a compliment.”
She stops herself before she hits me again, her hand already in the air. In her eyes, I still see the hurt, the pain. She’s broken, and this is how she lashes out to protect herself.
“It’s okay. Go ahead. Hit me. Hit me as hard as you can. I can take it.”
She winces and then punches me again until she’s too tired to move another muscle. Then she breaks down on top of me, falling into shambles, tearing up and letting it all out. I shush her while she drags herself closer to me, looking up at me with big, doe-like eyes. Vulnerable eyes. Eyes that make me want to hug her and tell her that I’ll make the men pay.
She sighs. “I hit you.”
“Yes, and that’s okay. I told you to.”
“But it’s wrong.”
“It’s not wrong if I tell you to do it.”
“I don’t want to be like you,” she mumbles, hiding her face in my shirt.
“You’re not. I enjoy handing out pain. You don’t.”
She inhales a deep breath. “I didn’t like hitting you.”
“This is what you needed to do. And you’re right, I am an asshole.”
“Yes, you are.” She grips me tighter. “But I needed it, I guess.”
“You need an asshole,” I joke.
“No, I needed the pain in order to remember … to remember …” She licks her lips, tears welling up in her eyes again.
“It’s going to be okay.”
She looks up at me again. “How can you say it’ll all be okay? Did you hear everything I said?”
“Yes … and I’m mortified. If this is all true, then Jesus Christ …” I let out a big sigh. I can’t let my feelings get in the way of this. “Regardless, it’s in the past now.”
Her fingers curl around the fabric of my shirt. The way she clutches me is sweet, tender, like a child, and yet I don’t view her as such. She is the only one who can make me want her. Who can make me do things I didn’t think I had the courage for. She brings out the poison in me that could kill us both, and yet I desire nothing more than to repeat it … over and over again.
She sniffs. “That doesn’t make me better. That doesn’t bring them back to life.”
“It won’t.” Somehow, a part of me wishes I could do just that. “But now that you remember, it will make it easier to cope with. Maybe, in time, you can learn to accept it. Learn to move on. Live your life again.”
She shakes her head. “No … not after this.”
“Nothing is as bad as it seems at first. You’ll live. You’re still alive, and you still will be. Just keep going forward. You’ll get there.”
“Where is there? What exactly do I have to look forward to?” The desperation in her voice makes me frown and anger boils inside me. I hate that she feels this way, hate that this trauma has ruined her to the point that she’s given up. I look down at her, my hand finding its way to her face before I realize it. I cup her chin and caress her cheek, wiping away the tears. She lies in the arms of a monster, taking comfort in the words of a brute, bent and twisted by a beast. I wish to tell her there is still a future for her, but I fall short of words. There is no future with me, only certain death.
She blinks away the tears in her eyes. “I understand if you don’t want to answer. I wouldn’t know the answer myself, either. God, I don’t even want to think about it anymore. Now that I remember, all I want to do is block it out again.”
“Don’t. It won’t make things easier.”
“I know …” she sighs.
I smile at her. It is the only thing I can do.
The only thing that might make her heart beat again.
A smile in exchange for a little happiness.
I’m devoid of it myself, but for a split second, I can imagine myself being happy with her. If only.
“Let me help you get to wherever you want to go,” I say.
She diverts her eyes. “Is this … is this why you brought me here? So I could remember?”
“In part, yes. I knew about your problem with the bunny and I wanted to see if I could help you with it.” I lick my lips. I cannot ignore the fact that I was a little selfish and went over the top with my session. I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I was caught up in the moment, caught up in lust, caught up in her. Sometimes I forget that there is another human near me—someone whose soul is still intact and whose heart bleeds. I might be a monster, but I do not enjoy the pain of others. Well, only their physical, sexual pain. I don’t derive pleasure from hurting her emotionally.
And yet, that’s all I seem to do. All I know I have to do in order to keep us both safe.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry if I was little hard on you.”
“A little? That’s a bit of an understatement,” she scoffs.
“You would’ve never found out about all those things otherwise. You needed the push. You needed to be broken in order to heal.”
“I needed to be broken? Do you know how bad that sounds?”
“Yes, I do.” I tilt her head, making her look at me. “But I know you can handle it. There is a fire in you, Miss Carrigan, whether you see it or not. I know it’s there. Your flame has waned, but that doesn’t mean you can’t rekindle it. That I can’t rekindle it. Let me be the spark to light you up.”
A flush appears on her cheeks, the first step toward recovery. I’ve distracted her from her thoughts. Even if only for a second, I succeeded in bringing her a little peace. It quickly disappears again. “Mister Brand �
�” she sighs. “You confuse me.”
I laugh. “I have that effect often, I’m told.”
“You were not the man I thought you were.”
“I’m not, but does it truly make you unhappy?”
Her eyebrows draw together, and she shifts in her place. “I wouldn’t know how to answer that without coming across as insane.”
“It’s okay to be a little crazy. When you’re with me, that’s all I ask for. Let go of your inhibitions. Let me take away your fears, learn to love the pain, let it take you to the world of ecstasy and bliss.”
She fists her hand in my shirt. “Is that love? Is that what I need?”
“Love comes in all shapes and sizes.”
“But to be used as a slave? To be a prisoner in the home of a man who hates me?”
I grab her wrist and squeeze. “Do not say that. I do not hate you, Miss Carrigan. Have I not proven that to you already?”
“How can you call what you do anything but hate?”
“It is devotion, Miss Carrigan.” I sigh and let go of her hand, raking my fingers through my hair instead. I could never explain this to her. There’s no point. The truth will make her flee, but when I help her remember, she will hate me for it. Whatever course I take, both will lead toward a fate where I lose her forever, but at least we will both be safe.
And the worst part is that I don’t know if I want that anymore.
I’m truly losing the battle. Losing was never part of my plan.
I inhale sharply. “I cannot and will not explain myself to you, Miss Carrigan. I am what I am, take it or leave it.”
“But I am not allowed to leave …”
“Would you, if you were given the choice?”
She’s silent for a moment.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I was still thinking,” she huffs.
“I know what you’re thinking. You think it is wrong what I do to you. That you should despise me for putting my dick in your mouth and ass. You think you should hate that you liked it. See, but here’s the thing. You think too much. Stop letting your morals get in the way of true bliss. I can give you that and more. Have I not proven it to you? Did you not enjoy being licked? Did you not adore my finger probing your pussy or the shameful delight of having my cock up your ass? You cannot honestly tell me you didn’t like any of it, whether it was the spanking, the sucking, the fucking, or the plugging.”
Snare (Delirious book 1) Page 20