SLAUGHTER

by Tessier, Shantel

  “He was undoing his pants when his cell rang ... He pulled it out of his pocket and cussed. Then he kicked her in the stomach as he stood and walked out, ordering me to close the door and lock it. He left ten minutes later, after his phone call, and then you all showed up.” Drool runs down his chin and mixes with the blood on the floor. “I overheard him tell someone on the phone the day before that they were going to be moving her soon.”

  “To where?”

  “He never said.”

  My jaw clenches. “You know nothing of value.”

  His head sags, and he coughs. I’m losing him. He’s dying. I’ve played with him too much. I take the knife and toss it up in the air before catching it. The blood now covers the handle as well as the blade, making it slippery.

  I hear the door open behind me, but I keep my focus on Lance. He lifts his head, looking up, and I throw the knife for the last time.

  It lands right in his throat. His body jerks, and he makes a gurgling sound as blood pours from his wound down his neck, chest, and stomach before hitting the floor. His eyes close, and his head falls forward, his chin resting on top of the blade, and I watch the life drain out of him like the sorry piece of shit he is.

  Turning around, I see Kayn standing with my brother. “What?” I snap, removing the towel from my back pocket and wiping off my hands.

  Kayn enters. “Did you find them?” I ask.

  “No, sir. Sorry.”

  “Then why the fuck are you here?” I growl.

  “I have something you need to see.”

  We make our way back up to my study, and my brother takes a seat on the couch. Kayn stands by the door. I pour a glass of scotch and hand it to my brother, then make myself one.

  “What is it?”

  “We found these at your brother’s house.” He gestures to a box sitting on my desk that I now notice is upright.

  I walk over and open it up, finding some keys, a wallet, pictures, and a USB drive. “What is on it?” I ask.

  Kayn clears his throat before answering. “Home videos.”

  My brother’s eyes widen, and my jaw sharpens. Our brother Vaughn was always recording shit. “Did you watch it?” Who knows what the fuck is on it.

  Kayn nods. “I started but did not finish, sir.”

  Which tells me this USB drive holds something very bad. I tighten my hand around it, and then plug it in, unable to stop myself.

  The video starts to play, and it’s me and her sitting on the couch at my father’s house. She has to be sixteen, me eighteen. She has on my T-shirt and sweatpants. Her face free of makeup, and she has a huge smile on her face while she cuddles up next to my side.

  “What are you two doing?” Vaughn asks, filming us.

  “Get the hell out of here,” I growl before tossing a throw pillow at him. “We wanna be alone.”

  He does as I say, turning around, leaving the living room and entering the hallway. But then he stops and turns back around, continuing to film us. He’s out of sight, and we’re not paying attention.

  I lean into her, my hand cupping her face and turning it toward me. She licks her lips and then leans in for me to kiss her. I do. Passionately. She moans, and I release her face and slide my hand into my sweatpants she wears. Then she’s moaning into my mouth, her hips bucking while I finger fuck her right there for all to see on my father’s couch. Her head pulls away from mine.

  “Avery.” She gasps, her head falling back to the cushion. She comes, her hands in my hair, her body bucking wildly. Then I’m laying her down, removing my sweatpants and her underwear from her waist and tossing them to the floor. I push mine down to grab the base of my hard cock, and then I’m pushing into her while our lips find one another’s once again.

  The screen goes black.

  I look around my study, and Kayn is staring down at the floor, and Tristan is downing what is left of his scotch. “What is this …?”

  The screen comes back on, interrupting me. Bunny sits in my father’s kitchen at the breakfast bar. She has her head down, and she runs her fork through her eggs.

  “Hey, Pres.” I hear my brother’s voice.

  “Hey, Vaughn,” she says, not bothering to look up at him. “Have you spoken to Avery?” she asks. “I called him earlier, and he didn’t answer.”

  “No. But it’s not even nine a.m. in California yet. He’s probably still asleep.”

  California? This is when I was gone. When I came back only to find out she left me.

  “He always answers my calls.” She looks up at him and frowns.

  He doesn’t say anything, and she runs her hand through her blond hair before pushing her full plate of eggs away. I can see the stress written all over her face. Her blue eyes full of worry and brows drawn down. “Maybe I’ll call him again …”

  My father enters the kitchen and comes to a stop when he sees her. “Hello, Presleigh.”

  “Hello, Mr. Decker,” she says with a nod of her head.

  He looks at Vaughn, and orders, “Leave us.”

  He walks out, and the screen goes black. I take a step closer to my large TV and then the camera comes back on, and you can hear her screaming in the background.

  “Avery! Avery!” her voice shouts. The camera walks up to my room and opens the door. My father is dragging her across the floor by her hair. “Avery!” she cries out again.

  I pause it.

  She’s on her side, her hands up in her hair where he grips it. Her face turned away from the camera. He looks at the bed, his lips in a thin line and jaw sharp.

  My heart slams into my chest knowing exactly what this is.

  I screamed for you. But you weren’t there.

  Is what she had said to me.

  “Avery … man. Maybe you shouldn’t …” Tristan goes to take the remote from my hand, but I pull away and press play.

  “He can’t fucking save you!” he growls and lifts her up off the floor before slamming her onto my bed. When she tries to crawl away, he grabs her shorts and yanks them down her legs.

  “No,” she shouts. “Please don’t …”

  He slaps her across the face, and she grabs her cheek, crying into her hands.

  “You’re like all the others. Fucking begging. Just take it like the whore you are,” he snaps.

  “Nnooo.” She chokes.

  He pushes his pants down, wasting no time. Her struggle turns him on, and he’s already hard. Then he shoves her onto her stomach. She tries to crawl away again, but he pins her down. He brings her arms behind her back and hold them parallel across her back. Then he spreads her legs with his effortlessly. He takes a hold of himself and tries to enter her but growls. “Does my son go easy on you?” She sobs as her head faces away from the camera, her body still trying to fight him off. Her legs kicking the comforter and sheets. “That’s disappointing. I taught him better than that.”

  He spits on his hand and then runs it over his hard dick. She yells out when he pushes into her with one hard shove of his hips.

  “Stop it!” she cries “Please … stop …”

  He takes his now free hand, grips her hair, and shoves her face first into the pillow. She struggles, but it doesn’t do her any good. He fucks her. His hips pound into her as though he hates her. Every now and then, he picks up her head to allow her a breath before he buries it back into the pillow. Suffocating her once again.

  “You fucking whore, you belong to me. Just like the rest of them!” he grinds out. “You walk around flaunting your body in a bikini, teasing everyone because that’s what you are. A cock tease.”

  He lifts her head up, and I hear her intake of breath before he shoves her face back down. He slows down his pace. “Feel my cock, Presleigh. See how hard you’ve made me? That’s all you, baby. You’ve done this to me over and over for too long now.”

  Her head shakes in his grip, her arms trying to fight him to no avail. “You like it, don’t you? The way I fuck you. Like a man. Like you should be treated.” He pulls out and slams
into her; her leg comes up and kicks him in the arm, and he spreads his legs wider, making it harder for her to fight. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he muses and chuckles. “But not strong enough.”

  He lifts her head back, and she cries out as she sucks in a breath. He holds it in place while she sobs, and he leans over to whisper in her ear. “You think I haven’t seen you and Avery fucking? I have, and it pisses me off. No one’s dick should be in this cunt but mine.” She tries to pull her head away from his grasp, but he holds her tightly. He pulls his hips back and then slams into her while she sobs. His tongue comes out and licks the tears off her face. “Stop crying. You know you like it because you are a whore. My little whore.”

  He pushes into her one last time, then grunts as he comes before crawling off her. He grabs her arm and pulls her onto her back, and she sobs, closing her legs tightly. Her hands hiding her face while her entire body shakes uncontrollably.

  He strokes his now soft cock. “Now I understand why he wants to keep you. Why he won’t give you up.” A new sob wracks her body. “But he won’t after I’m done with you, Presleigh. Not anymore. No man will ever want you.”

  He grabs the flashlight off the nightstand and moves back between her legs. She reaches up to fight him off, and he places his right hand over her mouth while he clamps his fingers over her nose. She bucks. She tries to kick. Her nails scratch his face, and he lets go of her long enough to slap her. When that doesn’t stop her, he punches her. Her hands fall to her sides, and her body stops moving. He sits there between her parted legs, gently running his fingers over her pussy. Just watching her. Bruises already begin to form on her face. As soon as she starts to stir, he takes the flashlight and pushes it into her, and she screams. She tries to crawl away from him, but her head is at the headboard, so there’s nowhere for her to go. He places his hand back over her mouth and nose while he fucks her with the flashlight just as he did with his cock. Over and over. Her face turns red from lack of oxygen. You can hear her muffled screams behind his hand and see the tears run down her face. Then there’s blood. A lot of it. It covers her thighs, his stomach, and the bed. He finally stops and moves away from her. He looks down at her with a satisfied smile on his face.

  He grabs her by the hair and yanks her off the bed and onto the floor. And then proceeds to take her to the shower.

  The camera moves into the room, then the bathroom. She sobs over and over while he washes her. Then he shoves her out of it. She falls to the tiled floor, soaking wet. Her legs unable to hold herself up.

  I pause it.

  I turn my back to the TV, my chest rising and falling fast with every breath. My body physically shaking.

  My eyes sting with tears. I’ve never cried. Not when my mother left us and not when I thought Bunny left me. The only emotion I ever show is rage.

  I fist my hands down by my side when the first tear falls. I reach over, grab the glass coffee table, and throw it up against the wall. It shatters to a million fucking pieces, and I scream.

  I fall to my knees in the middle of my study, glass crunching under my knees, and bend over. My hands grip my hair, and I welcome the sting to my scalp. Needing the pain. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” I say to no one. “So Goddamn sorry.” My hands fall to my legs as I let out a pained breath.

  “Avery …” I hear my brother. I had forgotten he and Kayn were in here with me. His eyes look devoid of any emotion, but his fists are clenched. His jaw tightens as he looks up at the paused scene on the TV. “You don’t need to see this.”

  “Shut the fuck up or get out!” I bark.

  He bows his head and runs a hand through his hair, showing me his unease, but he shuts up.

  I let out a long sigh and climb to my feet. Not even bothering to wipe my face free of tears, I turn around, square my shoulders, and push play.

  He grabs her by the chin, pulling her to a sitting position on the tile floor. “You will abort this baby.”

  “Nnnoooo.” She sobs.

  He slaps her. “You will do as I say.”

  She wraps her arms around her stomach, shaking her head quickly, and blood starts to cover the floor between her legs once again.

  “He doesn’t want you or this fucking baby!” he shouts. “You’re just some young teenage whore trying to trap my son!”

  “It was a surprise,” she cries.

  “Bullshit!” He grips her hair and yanks her head back. “You shouldn’t have been having sex with him to begin with! You belong to me!”

  “I … love … him …” She sobs as the tears continue to roll down her face.

  “Well, he doesn’t love you or that baby,” he growls. “Abort this baby!”

  “I won’t…”

  He kicks her. Knocking her to her stomach on the floor in the bathroom. “Then I’ll take care of it for you.”

  She gets up on her hands and knees to crawl away, but they slip in the water that has pooled around her along with the blood, and he kicks her in the face. She sprawls out on the floor, and he kicks her in the stomach again. She’s too weak to fight him anymore.

  He straddles her and fists his hands before landing punch after punch to her face, chest, and stomach until she is an unconscious, bloody fucking mess. When he stands, he’s breathing heavy. She lies there, looking half dead while the blood pours from her nose and mouth. Her nose is broken and possibly her jaw. Her lips are busted. And she has countless bruises.

  He looks right at the camera. “You better make sure no one ever fucking sees this.”

  “Of course, Dad,” Vaughn says with excitement. “Can I have her now?”

  “No,” he snaps. “She doesn’t belong to any of you boys! She belongs to me!” he shouts, punching his own chest. “Now go call Lance. Get his ass here to pick her up before your brother returns from his trip.” He then points at my room. “And clean up all that mess. Can’t leave any evidence for Avery to see.”

  The screen goes black.

  PRESLEIGH

  I lie in Avery’s bed staring at the ceiling when I hear the door open. I sit up, not pretending to be asleep when he stumbles in. He shuts the door and leans against it. Raising a bottle of scotch to his lips, he greedily drinks, his throat working, but some of it manages to run down the side of his lips and trails down his chin to his shirt.

  Once he lowers it, he leans his head back on the door, and it hits with a thud as he closes his eyes.

  I look him over to see he has blood on his knuckles, and it’s his because he has a few cuts. Then my eyes drop to his pants, and they too have blood on them. “Did you get hurt?” I ask.

  He lifts his head, and his eyes land on mine. He stares at me, not saying a word, but I can see the pain in his blue eyes. His chest heaves, and his eyes are red. I’ve never seen him cry, but he looks on the verge of tears.

  “Avery?” I ask, getting out of his bed. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  His eyes drop to my stomach. All I’m wearing is one of his T-shirts. Then he looks away. “I can’t even look at you.” He speaks softly.

  My stomach drops, and my chest tightens. My arms come up to wrap around my waist. I drop my head to stare at the floor, shame washing over me. He’ll never look at me the same. He’ll never touch me the same. Once again, Victor managed to ruin my life. I’ve dealt with this for the past eleven years. I’ve felt it. It’s why I kept my secret. To avoid this. It’s why I sleep around—to prove to myself that he didn’t win. No matter how much numbness I still felt. “I don’t expect you to understand,” I say and swallow the tightness in my throat. “How I feel. What I need.”

  “I have a pretty good idea of how you feel.”

  I look back up at him through my hair, and he’s taking another drink from the bottle. He drops it to his side, and his eyes meet mine briefly before looking away once again.

  I feel tears start to well in mine. “I need you to touch me—”

  “No!” he growls, interrupting me.

  My anger grows. “I�
��m here because of you!” I snap, and his jaw tightens. “I was fine with my life—”

  “Being a whore?” He snorts, interrupting me again. “How was that working out for you?”

  “Fuck you, Avery!” I shout, my face turning red.

  He drops his head, running his free hand through his hair. “I’m sor …” He stops himself midway through his apology. “I …” He looks up at me. “I watched the tapes.”

  “What tapes?” I ask, my heart picking up.

  “The tapes of what Victor did to you.”

  He must be mistaken. Drunk and confused maybe. “I don’t understand …” I whisper.

  “Vaughn taped everything my father did to you. When he raped you in my bed. Then forced you to shower. When he beat you in my bathroom. All of it.”

  No. He has to be lying. That can’t be true. I remember Vaughn recording me in the kitchen, but then he left me and Victor alone. He said he had something I needed to give Avery when he returned, so I had followed him up to the second floor. As soon as I hit the landing, he grabbed me. His hands digging in my hair, then he dragged me into Avery’s room. “No,” I whisper.

  “I watched him treat you like one of his fucking slaves.” He takes another drink from the bottle. “I watched you call out for me. I watched how he treated you as if you meant fucking nothing!” His voice rises, and tears sting my eyes. “I watched him clean you off and then beat you!” he shouts.

  I place a hand over my mouth as a sob comes out. “How could you?” I whisper as the tears spill over my eyes. “How could you watch that?”

  “I had to know,” he says with no shame.

  “I told you!” I shout, my hands fisting tightly. “My words weren’t enough? You didn’t believe me?” That was always my biggest fear. What would Avery have done if he hadn’t changed his number? Would he have believed me? If so, would he have come to me? He sat back and watched girls be treated no different than how his father did me and did nothing. Why would he for me?

  “Of course, I did,” he snaps. “I guess I’m just a sick son of a bitch.”

  “I hate you,” I growl. How could he do that to me?