by TL Alexander
“Don’t… don’t call me… I’m not…”
Rip.
I open my eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”
“There you are. You were gone for a minute.”
“Gone?”
He ignores me and continues to rip the bodice of my sundress. “I hope it wasn’t you favorite. I hate small buttons.” He holds up his hands. “Big hands.” He wiggles his fingers. “Big fingers.” He looks down. “Oh my. But I love front opening bras.”
My eyelids feel as if they weigh a ton. I blink several times in an effort to keep them open.
He sighs as he runs the back of his hand up my arm. “So soft,” he whispers.
I raise my arms in an effort to push him off me. They flop from side to side before falling to the mattress.
“Feels like Jell-O.”
“What?”
“That’s what April said.”
“You…”
“Yes. Many times. I had to.”
“Why?”
He sighs heavily. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say she wasn’t holding up her end of the bargain.”
“Bargain?”
“She broke off our engagement. Said she didn’t love me anymore. I had to show her otherwise.”
“What did you do?”
“I convinced her to give us another chance. She agreed to postpone her moving out for a few weeks.” He lifts my shoulders and removes my ripped dress and bra. He then lays me back down and scans my now nude body.
I can’t feel the goose bumps, but I see how they scatter and take over my flesh. You need to keep him talking, Morgan. “What did you do, Tad? Did you kill her?”
He continues to scan over me as he speaks. “I had no choice. She wasn’t like you. A little GHB in her wine at dinner and she’d pass out.” He smiles and closes his eyes as if remembering. “She’d wake up in my arms. She couldn’t remember a thing. So I told her we’d made love for hours.” He opens his eyes, and his smile fades. “I knew she’d catch on eventually. But I was hoping to change her mind about us before she did.”
“What happened?”
“She found my stash of drugs. Said she was going to the police. I had no choice. I shot her with the gun she’d bought to protect herself from me,” he says and laughs. But it’s not a ha-ha kind of laugh. It’s pure evil.
“I made it look like a suicide. Then I paid some guys to back up my story that I was out of town. The police believed them and her friends corroborated that she’d been distant and was acting strange. Her parents gave me a hard time, as you know, but they couldn’t find any evidence to back up their theories.”
He bends over, his mouth connecting with a nipple. He sucks it into his mouth.
I can’t feel it. But I do taste the bile rising from my stomach. “Don’t do this, Tad.”
He smirks over my nipple. “It’s going to happen, my dear.”
“Please, Tad, don’t do this.”
He sits up and runs his hand between my legs.
Bile rises and coats my tongue.
He shows me his wet fingers. “Look how wet you are for me.”
I want to tell him that panic and fear can trigger a hormonal release, but I don’t. I don’t want him to know that I’m terrified.
He closes his eyes as if he’s remembering something. He opens them and looks into mine. “Coming inside a woman when you have complete control, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, my dear Bri. I’d imagine it’s like heroin or crack, without the bad side effects.” He frowns. “Well, not entirely. I get a rush every time; it just doesn’t last as long as it used to. The cravings, the need… I don’t know if I can explain it.”
He didn’t have to. I’d heard rapists and murders describe their cravings, a hunger similar to someone addicted to drugs, alcohol, or sex. Over time, an addict becomes desensitized or develops a tolerance to his drug of choice, needing his fix more often, stronger, or to the next level.
“You’re a monster.”
“It’s up to you on what kind of experience you have. If you open your mind, you could enjoy yourself. But if you choose not to….” He parts my thighs, kneels between them, and begins to stroke his cock. “This is going to last for days.” He looks toward the nightstand. “I’ve got plenty of drugs.”
I look at the nightstand; a half-empty syringe sits on top.
“Don’t worry. I’ve become quite proficient with a needle. You won’t feel a thing unless I want you to. Do you want to feel, Bri? Do you want to feel me fucking you in every way possible?”
To keep my mind focused, my fear tampered, I make a list in my head of possible drugs. “Succinylcholine?”
He lifts a brow. “The woman knows her drugs. You never cease to amaze me, my dear. My father’s a pharmacist. You’d be amazed at the kinds of drugs I’ve gotten my hands on. It’s taken me time to perfect my recipe, and with you, I’ve had to tweak it. It’s a mix of GHB, succinylcholine, barbiturates, and a little of this and that.”
“You sick bastard.”
He laughs as he takes his cock and runs it up my inner thigh. “It didn’t have to be this way, Bri. All you had to do is let me love you, but you just couldn’t let yourself. You really are a selfish bitch.”
It’s slight, but I feel it. The drug’s effects were waning. Think, Morgan. Think. Keep him talking.
“You are so beautiful, my dear,” he says and parts my sex with the tip of his penis.
I don’t realize I’ve bitten my tongue until I taste blood.
“You have a very pretty pussy, Bri. Not all women do, ya know. To think I almost gave this up.”
“Gave it up?”
He sighs as he continues to rub his penis up and down my sex.
Oh, God. Be still, Morgan. You can’t let him know you can feel his…
“I could never get you alone, especially after Mark moved in. He really cramps my style. You two are awfully chummy. Does he play for both teams?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You’ve changed, Bri. You’re not… I don’t know. You’re not the same since we went on that trip. You’re… What’s the word? Cynical! That’s it. And Ethan… He’s changed too. He’s not in my face like he was. He’s backed off. It’s almost as if he regrets something. I wonder, did something happen in that cave? I saw him standing by the entrance. Boy, was he ever angry. I asked him if he’d seen you. He told me to fuck off.”
He continues his torture.
Close to tears, I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t deserve my tears and neither does he. I have to keep him talking. “You were saying you gave up?”
“I was on my way to Portland. I stopped by the pub to pick up a burger to go. Kat had mentioned earlier that you and Mark were taking the week off, and I’d assumed you were going somewhere together. When she told me Mark was going to Seattle and you were not… Well, I couldn’t believe my luck.”
“Is that what you call this. Luck?”
“Yes, cynical is definitely the right word for you. Your ex-husband really did a number on you. Peter, is that his name?”
“Peter?”
“You were mumbling. I thought you said, ‘Peter.’”
“So you never had a meeting in Cleveland?”
“I did. I cancelled it before I picked up the Chinese food. I know what you’re doing, Bri.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Trying to delay the inevitable.” He lines up his penis and begins to enter me.
I close my eyes.
“Open your eyes, my dear. You don’t want to miss seeing this.”
It’s just your body, Morgan. He can’t touch you, the part of you that matters—what a bunch of crap! I used to tell victims this, to get them to open up and tell me horrible things. You were wrong, Morgan. So. So. Wrong. I laugh.
“That’s the spirit.”
The bed shifts.
I open my eyes. Tad is standing next to the bed, pulling his shorts on. “Did you hear that?”
&
nbsp; I didn’t hear a thing, but I lie to get him out of the room. “Yes. It sounded like a car door shutting.”
He snaps his shorts and pulls on a T-shirt.
I make the mistake of looking at the syringe.
He notices and says, “Good idea.”
“Please don’t,” I plead.
He smiles. “I’ve made many mistakes over the years. I make them once and never again,” he singsongs. Then to my surprise, he grabs the syringe and puts it in his back pocket. “I’ll be right back, my dear,” he says and exits, pulling the door shut.
“Thank you, God,” I whisper.
I remain still, listening. I’m afraid he might come barging back in, having forgotten something, or changed his mind about administering more drugs. I might have an unusually high tolerance to chemicals, but that doesn’t mean my body can handle more of whatever drug cocktail he’s concocted.
When I hear the back sliding door open and then shut, I sit up and test my arms. I can feel them. I have control of them. I sigh in relief. But my relief is short lived when I realize I still can’t feel my legs.
I look at the dresser several feet away. You shouldn’t have moved it, Morgan.
I had a gun holster attached to the back of my nightstand. When Mark moved in, I didn’t want him to find it, so I attached it to the back of the dresser. I’m now silently kicking myself.
I have to get to the gun. It’s my only way out of this. I lift the lower half of my body with my arms and slide to the side of the bed. I then take each leg in hand and move it off the bed, so they dangle over the side.
I look at the dresser. It might as well be a mile away. I don’t waste time wallowing. I push off the bed and my legs buckle. I instinctively extend my arms and fall hard on my left side. Pain vibrates up my arm. I bite down hard on my lip to keep from screaming. Shit! Shit!
I roll on to my back and look at my arm. It’s a bad break, the broken bone pushing out muscle and skin, but luckily not breaking through.
I don’t let myself think about it. I hold it out to the side, away from my body the best I can, and roll to my stomach.
After I take a deep breath, I fold my right arm under me and use it to drag myself across the wood floor. When I reach the edge of the rug, I know I’m just feet away from the dresser. I pause for one last breath and drag myself the final few feet.
At the dresser, I roll onto my right hip and push myself to a seated position. Then I lean back against the wall, catching my breath.
I’m exhausted, running on adrenaline. I know the adrenaline won’t last, so I quickly push the dresser away from the wall. I sigh in relief when I see the gun. I reach out. “Goddammit.” It’s out of my reach. I push the dresser further away from the wall and lean over as far as I can. I stretch out my fingers and grab hold of the handle, then lift it slowly out of the holster. With gun in hand, I’m overcome with emotion, tears threatening.
As I’m swallowing my tears, I hear the sliding door open and shut. Fear and survival stomp down my emotions. I’ve got seconds to get in a better position. I can’t shoot the pervert if I can’t see him. I place the gun in my lap and push the dresser further away from the wall. I then grab its edge and use it like a pulley. When I clear the dresser, I prop my head against the wall, check the clip, and release the safety.
The door opens. “False alarm. I couldn’t fi—what have you done, my dear. Gone and found a gun,” he says and frowns. “I looked around for weapons. But I didn’t look behind the dresser. Clever girl.”
He takes a step forward.
I put my finger on the trigger. “Don’t move.”
He smiles. “How do you see this playing out, my dear? You can barely hold that gun.” He tilts his head. “Oh my. Looks like we have us a nasty break. I’m sure it hurt like the devil.”
I ignore him and the pain ragging down my arm as my fingers tighten around the handle.
He bends his knees.
I hold the gun out. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just going to sit, my dear. Sit and talk this over.”
Black spots begin to float over my irises.
“You don’t look so good.”
“No doubt, I’ve looked better.”
He laughs. “I’m so going to miss you, my dear Bri. I’m truly sorry things didn’t work with us. I would have made you happy.”
“How many?”
“What?”
“You heard me. How many lives have you destroyed?”
“Seriously? You want those words to be your last?”
I answer his question by lowing the gun level with his crotch. I know I’m wasting precious time. But I need to know. I need his death to be more than retribution for what he’s done to me. I’m not worthy. I need more.
He raises his hands. “Okay, okay. I don’t know how many women I’ve drugged and raped.”
I grip the handle tighter.
“I swear. I don’t. The killing thing… well, it’s newer. I’ve only killed two women. April of course and a girl I dated in Seattle. But that was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill her. Too much GHB, I think. How was I to know she’d have some kind of allergic reaction?”
“You sick bastard.”
“Oh come on. They were all cunts. Even April,” he says and bends over.
“Don’t move.”
“Take it easy. I’m just going to sit.” He reaches for the rug.
I pull the trigger; the bullet grazes his left bicep.
“You bitch! You shot me.” He places his hand over the wound and blood soon seeps through his fingers.
I swallow pot-sticker-flavored bile.
“You’re going to pay for this.”
“How did you see this ending, Tad? You think I can let you live.”
“I lied,” he says. “I’ve killed one, two… three,” he yells, bends over, and pulls the rug.
I fall backward and the gun goes off. My head hits the wall, and….
PAWNS MOVE FORWARD BUT CAPTURE DIAGONALLY
“Bri?”
I open my eyes.
“My God. Are you—what the hell happened to you?”
“What?”
Ethan picks up the gun and puts it on the dresser. “Have you been drinking?”
“Drinking?” I question as I try to sit up. My head spins and a hot, shooting pain runs up my arm.
“Stay there,” he says and stands. He walks over to the made bed and grabs my robe.
“Did you make the bed?”
He returns with my robe and kneels next to me. “Make the bed? What are you talking about?”
“The bed. Tad. Where’s Tad?”
“Sit up. Let me wrap this around you.”
I do.
“What happened to your clothes?”
“What?”
He nods my way.
I look down at my nude body. “Tad ripped my dress. He took off my clothes and…” I look around him. “Where’s Tad?”
“Tad’s not here, Bri. No one’s here. Can you stand?”
“I don’t think so.”
He gently puts his arms around me and lifts me. Ethan carries me to the bed and lays me down.
I ask again. “Where’s Tad?”
“Why do you keep on asking me that? He’s not here.”
“I shot him.”
“You what?”
“He drugged me. He was going to… He was about to…”
“What are you talking about?”
“He heard a noise. He got dressed, picked up the syringe,” I say and look toward my nightstand. “Then he left to see who or what made the noise. That’s when I got up. I had to reach the gun I had taped to the back of the dresser. But my legs, they wouldn’t work.”
“What do you mean they wouldn’t work?”
“Just that. He drugged me. When I tried to stand, my legs collapsed and I fell on my arm.”
He gently runs his hand down my arm. “It’s broken.”
“I know it’s broken,” I yell.
He holds up his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help.”
I close my eyes and think. I open them. “Why are you here?”
“I texted you.”
“Texted me?”
“I left my sunglasses on your deck. When I didn’t hear back from you, I decided I’d stop by on my way home from the pub. The cottage was dark. I thought you’d gone to bed, so I went around to the back.” He pulls his sunglasses from his hoodie front pocket. “I found them and was about to leave when I noticed the back slider was open. I called out, but you didn’t answer. I came in to check on you. That’s when I found you on the floor.”
“He drugged me.”
“Tad?”
“Yes.”
He frowns.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I… I want to, but...”
“But what?”
“Are you on drugs? Are you high?”
“Yes. I just told you, Tad drugged me.”
He sighs heavily. “Bri, I know you take drugs.”
I sit up. “What are you talking about? I don’t take drugs.”
“You don’t remember what happened in the cave. But you must have remembered taking drugs?”
“I remember everything that happened in that cave.”
His pupils dilate. “You what? You said—”
“I lied.”
Ethan shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”
“You yelled at me. Told me not to bother with my pants. Then you picked me up and put me down next to the cave wall. You fucked me and I got sick. You stopped, and then you told me to forget about it. You said, ‘This never happened. Do you hear me? This never happened.’”
“Why did you lie? Why did you tell everyone you fell and hit your head?”
“The why doesn’t matter?”
“Doesn’t matter? Of course it matters. I was mad at myself, Bri. I’d taken you when you were high as a kite. That’s why I said that.”
“I was high, but I didn’t take drugs. Tad drugged me. He put something in the water he gave me. He said GHB and other drugs. I thought it was you. I thought you put drugs in the sports drink.”