“Tony,” I manage to groan out as he smashes my back to the wall. Being in this position, realizing there is nowhere for me to go, I start to get a little panicky. I force my eyes to open, hoping my brain will start to relax once it gets visual confirmation that it’s Tony’s weight holding me captive. He doesn’t seem to notice the change in my demeanor as he abruptly breaks our kiss to concentrate on other parts of my body. When I feel his tongue start circling the tip of my erect nipple, I begin to arch into his touch. Keeping my eyes open has seemed to help with some of my anxiety as I continue to relish in the feeling of us physically reconnecting.
My body instinctively flinches when he puts enough space between us for him to start running his fingers through my folds. I try to ignore the unwarranted feelings of doom that have started to cloud my mind as he begins to circle my opening. The closer he gets to penetrating me, the stronger my heart rate becomes.
“You’re not wet,” Tony breathes into my ear.
It’s not his words or the sound of his voice that sends my mind into a death spiral. The feeling of his hot breath against the shell of my ear fills my chest cavity with shame, panic, and confusion. My mind starts to play tricks on me. It’s no longer Tony’s hands I feel, or his voice I hear. The smell of his cologne doesn’t fill my nose when I take a shaky breath. There is only one person my senses can detect.
I try to force his name past the lump of fear in my throat, but no sound comes out. The room around me becomes muffled. I know Tony is talking, most likely yelling, but it’s like my head is underwater and the only sounds coming to my ears are murmurs. That all-consuming smell of burnt wire enters my nose, and I know it’s only a matter of time before the darkness takes over. Only this time I am trying hard not to let it devour me. I know who waits in the shadows, and what he’s capable of. I know this because as I close my eyes all I can see are his…
My entire body is throbbing as he throws me to the bed. The look on Slasher’s face makes the vomit I’ve been holding back come up. I’m terrified of what he is about to do, but I can’t help blaming myself for pushing him past the point of no return. Why must I always allow my fear to cause me trouble? If I had just listened to him and walked up the stairs, he wouldn’t have dragged me through his house by my hair. He hates to repeat himself. A lesson I learned early on.
When Slasher doesn’t immediately scream at me for not being able to keep down the water in my stomach, I quickly shuffle to my left. Hopefully he will just tie me down where I have positioned myself. My body will hide the evidence until he has tired himself out. The last thing I need to do is add more fuel to the fire.
“You protect your sister, yet she throws you to the wolves. If not for her, Tate would never had known you were the actual sister that owned Anthony. What he did to you was fucked up, pretty girl. It would seem your luck with men isn’t so good.”
The reminder that my twin sister married the man I still love sends another wave of nausea through my system. I always become sick to my stomach when I think of those two going behind my back and tying the knot. Tony had just asked me to marry him before he went and stuck a knife through my heart. Regardless of my reasons for saying no, I thought he had loved me enough to at least be loyal. It would seem I was wrong.
Slasher doesn’t bother to say anything else as he places his homemade straps around my wrist. The inside of the leather cuff has been lined with heavy duty staples that easily scratch into my skin when I squirm. He then applies the same type of bondage to my ankles before towering over my horizontal body. Arms crossed, chest puffed out with satisfaction, he takes his time forming a punishment in his mind that will cause the most pain.
When he walks to the dresser picking up a long paddle that is at least three inches thick, my body starts to squirm on instinct. I ignore the burning sensation of the staples digging into my already scarred tissue as I begin to cry.
“You remember this, don’t you? I want you to think of your boy toy Tony, and that evil twin sister Allison, while we play. Let’s not forget, if it wasn’t for them you wouldn’t be here, pretty girl.”
Hearing the joy my fear and agony bring him makes it impossible to hold my bladder. Regrettably, this is not something I can hide. His smirk soon turns to a frown before he closes the distance between us.
“You’re going to regret that,” he warns.
If there is one thing I can say about Slasher, it’s his ability to build up a person’s tolerance to pain. The first time he brought me up here, I screamed out on the first blow. There is a small amount of satisfaction to be had knowing I was able to hold out to the sixth hit this time, and it wasn’t until he used the edge of the board on the inside of my knee. I just hope when this is all said and done, I will still be alive.
I wake up scared and in pain. Quickly rising to a sitting position, I begin to survey my wounds, trying to make sure Slasher didn’t cause any permanent damage. I don’t think I will survive another visit to his bedroom, and at this point I’m not entirely sure I would want to.
When none of my muscles ache from moving, my mind starts to process the situation for what it truly is. I’m not in the tiny cell Slasher kept me locked in, and I’m not covered in bruises from that board of torture. Where giant yellowish-green welts should be, there are tiny white scars. Now that I have my memories back, I’m fully capable of remembering the night Slasher permanently damaged my skin. Suddenly the trivial white scars become a beacon for my shame and embarrassment. The last time I was with that monster, I got off. My body was able to enjoy the things he did. My God, what has he turned me into.
“Ashley.”
The sound of Casey’s voice captures my attention. Turning my head in the direction the noise came from, my eyes instantly lock with Tony’s. He is standing beside the chair Casey is perched on. Judging by the look on his face, he seems worried that I may remember everything, including his betrayal.
“Get out.”
I ignore the looks my words, and tone, bring to both their faces. The harshness of my voice sounds strange to my own ears, so I can only imagine what they are thinking. One would think, after waking up to remember that they had been abducted, raped, beaten, and humiliated on a daily basis that the emotions of that trauma would crush them. How is it that I feel nothing? The images waiting for me when I close my eyes should cause tears, fear, even rage. All I feel is numb. Like my body may have went through hell, but my mind saved itself by closing off.
“Get out.”
I repeat the words while keeping my gaze locked on the person I’m directing them toward. Tony’s eyes squint in determination before he moves to take a step in my direction. While I may feel numb toward Slasher and my time in that nightmarish room, my emotions toward Tony haven’t changed since he married my sister. Just knowing he was willing to play house with me this entire time only makes me hate him more. I want nothing to do with him, not now or ever again.
“GET OUT!”
When he continues to pursue me, despite my obvious protest, I get to my feet. I’m not going to be a helpless woman lying in bed while he pretends to care about my current state of mind. Where was his concern when he took my sister to the court house? Where was he while I was being tortured by his enemy?
“Mo anam cara.”
My soul mate
Tony is trying to placate me by using that term of endearment, but he has no idea those words mean nothing to me anymore. All the anger and hurt I felt when he betrayed me has come back with all my memories, and it’s downright impossible not to let them seize control over me. Reeling my hand back as far as it will go, I bring it down on the side of his face as hard as possible. I want him to feel what I feel. At least that is what I tell myself to keep the feelings of regret at bay. When his head refuses to move from the contact, I bring my hand up once again, fully prepared to slap him a second time. If not for Casey’s hand stopping my downward motion I would have landed another hard hit.
“Let her go,” Tony practically grow
ls out. The sides of his jaw are twitching from anger, yet he’s keeping his hands relaxed at his sides. It’s like he wants me to add to the red hand print on the side of his face.
“This is not the way to process your emotions, Ashley.”
Casey sounds like the therapist she is, and a part of me agrees with her. I know hitting Tony won’t stop the hurt I feel. Yet, the angry side of me is begging to do it again. Let’s see if he can take the same amount of pain as me.
Then, like ice-cold water hitting my warm skin, the realization of what I am doing freezes me in place. I’ve never hit another human being before. Regardless of their transgressions against me. I never laid a hand on Allison when she bragged about marrying my boyfriend, so why now? Why do I feel so much hate toward Tony that his pain would bring me pleasure?
“Get out.”
I don’t care that I sound like a broken record. I need him out of this room and away from me. I remember how stubborn he can be so his refusal to leave is not surprising in the least. While I would like nothing more than to put my knee in his groin, I don’t allow this new monster inside me to win. Slasher would get too much enjoyment out of the knowledge that he changed me for the worse, so I show my anger and pain another way. Picking up anything my hands can grab, I start chucking the items across the room.
The moment the alarm clock makes contact with the flat-screen T.V. Casey tries to reach for me only to be stopped by Tony. The look of sympathy and worry on their faces only feeds my emotions, and I continue to destroy everything in my path like a tornado. In the deep recesses of my mind, I can see myself acting like a crazed maniac. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe my earlier feelings of numbness were nothing more than compressed emotions that were waiting to bubble out. The entire time I am wrecking Tony’s room, I can hear him and Casey yelling at one another, but it isn’t until I see the door fly open and a group of men enter, that the sane part of me realizes I have become out of control.
“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Tony hollers. “NOOO!”
His voice is full of alarm and it quickly alerts my instincts. Looking across the room I dart to the dresser to pick up the knife I know Tony has hidden in the top drawer. I nearly fall over the scattered pieces of alarm clock littering the floor, but manage to make it to my destination just in time. Turning around, holding the knife like the weapon I intend it to be I see the look of concern in Casey eyes as she walks toward me.
“Ashley, put the knife down.”
Looking behind her, I can clearly see Tony fighting off two members of his club, Hammer and Torch are not exactly having an easy time subduing him. It isn’t until I see the syringe in Casey’s hand that I realize this is why Tony is being so aggressive. He doesn’t agree with whatever she has planned. Seeing that syringe, full of medicine that will most likely put me to sleep, causes an overwhelming sense of fear and panic to bloom in my chest. I can’t go back to that place and wake up after reliving those nightmares. Quickly glancing down at the knife, a plan forms in my head that helps relief battle out the anxiety. When Tony finally manages to get past both men, it’s like the universe is giving me a sign. Making sure to look him in the eyes, I utter the last set of words I hope to ever say.
“I hate you,” I seethe before placing the blade to my wrist. Before anyone has time to stop me I apply enough pressure to make the cut on my wrist one that will end all this. I may have a brief visit with Slasher before I die, but this time I close my eyes knowing it will all be over soon. This time, I am the master to my own fate.
Irish
The entire world quits turning as I see Ashley place the steel blade to her pale skin. Her eyes went from raging mad, lost, and scared, to now being content with the decision she’s made. I don’t allow her words of hatred to slow me down as I rush to her side, hoping to make it there before she can go forward with her plan. I hear screaming in the distance, and know that Allison has finally showed up to witness the shit show.
The first drop of blood to land on the floor takes my breath away, the second makes my heart start beating wildly in my chest, and the third makes the room around me become blurry from the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes. I manage to reach Ashley in time to catch her body as it starts to fall to the ground. Taking a hold of the knife in her hand, I chuck it across the room, not at all caring about the people it could injure. My only concern is for Ashley.
“CALL 911!” I scream while taking ahold of her left wrist to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. Looking on as the crimson liquid begins to seep between my fingers, I know she won’t survive if we wait. The clubhouse is located on backroads, it will take the ambulance forever to find the address.
“Hammer, get your truck. I’ll meet you outside,” I stumble over some of the words in my haste to get them out, but my brother understands me. Hammer races out of the room to do what I have asked as I strategically cradle Ashley to my chest while still applying pressure to her wound. The fear that shoots through my body when I notice she is not responding is enough to almost send me falling back down to my knees. At this point, her body is in shock from all the stress that has happened in a matter of moments, but I know the blood loss is still very dangerous.
“Irish,” Allison whispers my name as I charge through the door with her sister in my arms. I can hear the pleading in her tone, and know it’s her way of telling me to fix what’s happened. Ashley is an innocent bystander in all this. If I would have just left town without marrying Allison, Slasher would never have known about either one of them. Because of my stupidity and childish anger, the woman I love sees death as her only way out.
Hammer is waiting for me outside, the passenger door already open for me to climb in. As soon as I shut us inside the cab, he peels away from the compound. The ride to the hospital seems like it takes forever. With each passing minute I can feel her pulse growing weaker, and the chances of me losing her seem more likely.
With my free hand, I gently swipe the newly-dyed blonde hair from her forehead. The look on her face is the polar opposite of what it was just a short time ago. When I had her pinned against the wall, naked and squirming, I knew karma was going to come back and bite me in the ass. I was taking advantage of her. There is no other way to put it. Then, like I knew it would, the universe threw a bomb in my lap. Ashley said she wanted me, but her body said she didn’t. When she fainted in my arms, I knew she was having a flashback, and every cell in my being knew she would wake up with the memories she had lost.
Part of me was hoping they would never return. I wanted to keep Ashley with me, and I knew once she remembered she would hate me again. The look of disgust on her face when she was yelling at me to get out of the room was hard to see. I wanted to shake her. I wanted Ashley to forgive me for something I would never excuse if the roles were reversed. I know it’s selfish, but it is what it is.
After she slapped me, I could see the look of confusion and enjoyment the action brought her. I know it felt good for Ashley to hurt me like she was hurt. That’s why I was willing to let her continue to do so until both arms were too heavy for her to lift. She has suffered enough because of me. The least I could do was take some of that pain away.
Now, after all the damage that can’t be undone, Ashley has made a decision that will surely put her in the hospital for a while. I was a fool to believe I could help her recover. I should have put her first and realized I would be the last person Ashley would want to see after her memories returned.
“You need me to help carry her in?”
Hammer asks the question as the truck fishtails into the parking lot from his fast speed. I shake my head no, indicating I don’t need help, before opening the door to a still moving vehicle. The minute my boots hit the cement I am taking off toward the double doors strategically placed under glowing red letters.
“HELP ME!” I roar out in the room scattered with people. When a woman in a pair of green scrubs runs up to me, I immediately start rambling incoherent sentences. I’m trying
to tell her everything she will need to know to help, but the way Ashley’s skin is starting to turn a pasty shade of white has my already busy mind going insane. I don’t hear her response to my random words, but I assume she wants me to follow her into another set of double doors so I do.
“Dr. Nunes, we have a lacerated wrist over here,” the nurse shouts to a man walking up in a white coat. I ignore the bed she pushes in my direction, thinking there is no way in hell I am going to let go of Ashley.
“Sir, you need to place her on the stretcher.”
The order comes from the doctor who is now standing beside the nurse. He’s donning a blue pair of gloves that match his scrubs underneath the coat. He looks to be the same age as me which makes it even harder to convince myself to follow his orders. The nurse seems to register my panic and gently places her hand on my arm.
“If you want us to save her, you need to lay her down.”
“She’s the love of me life. She’s me everythin’.”
Every other man in the world would probably call me a pussy for having such a hard time placing her on the stretcher, but it’s not easy letting go of the woman you love when you’re not sure if you’ll ever hold her again. This could be the ending to our story, and it kills me to think she is dying with so much pain and hurt weighing down her soul. Letting the nurse know that Ashley is not just any other woman, helps me to gently place her down on the white sheet.
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