A Serenade of Fireflies
Page 3
“Good girl,” he whispers with a nod as he continues to fuck me. I don’t know how long something like this should last because I’ve never stayed for the duration of his performances, but I can feel my body starting to shiver like it does when I watch him from the window.
I grind my teeth together as Duran quickens his pace, his cock ramming in and out of me, and before I know it my cunt begins to tighten around his dick as I let out a loud moan.
“First timers never last very long,” he muses with a laugh as he pulls his cock out of me and begins to stroke it quickly.
When my breathing manages to even slightly, he puts himself back inside of me and keeps moving his hips.
It hurts.
But this is what I came for and I can’t say that I’m disappointed.
He grunts as he thrusts one last time, then pulls his dick out of me, rubbing it on my thigh. I felt him release something inside of me, and I feel like I’ve done a good enough job to get that out of him—even if I didn’t really do anything at all.
He lets out a satisfied sigh as he props himself onto his knees, whipping my robe closed.
“Tell me how you want to die now,” he says, running a hand tiredly over his face.
And that’s when I suddenly realize something.
I don’t.
Epilogue
I’m sitting on my porch sipping freshly squeezed orange juice.
It’s been a week since I left Duran’s home and I feel like a new person.
I’ve decided that hiding in my own misery is something that no longer serves me and maybe I do deserve to give myself a chance to see what else the world has to offer. Perhaps I’ll find someone that understands the abyss that sits silently inside of me and won’t mind sitting in the shadows when I feel like I want to die.
Although I hope to never feel that way again, I know it’s inevitable like most things are.
As I raise the glass to my lips, I fall back to the memory of when my heart finally won the battle over my demons.
***
“What?”
He’s confused, angry, and more than likely feels duped, but I don’t care. I don’t want to die because I know that my mother wouldn’t want this for me. She would want me to fight like she tried to fight for me and I refuse to let this man, who reminds me so much of my father, take my life.
He’s not worthy of the deed.
His hands are cruel and he cares of nothing but himself, and I won’t let this happen.
Not yet.
“I don’t want to die and you can’t kill me,” I tell him, pushing him away with my feet and moving away from him. He becomes angry when he reaches for me. He calls me a bitch, a tease, and a liar—all of the mean things that Daddy would say to Momma before he would start to beat her like he was always so fond of doing.
Duran grabs me by my hair as I reach for the knife by Linda’s body and smacks me as hard as he can. I let out a tired laugh as the taste of iron fills my mouth, but he doesn’t know that the girl that he’s treating like nothing more than a momentary possession right now has more fight than any other grown woman he’s mistreated before.
Consensual or not—I’ve changed my mind and it’s really his own fault for being no different than Daddy when I needed him to be something much more than just a monster.
I let out a pained grunt as he slaps me again, pushing me onto my back and flicking my robe open with his wrist.
“You apparently need to learn some manners,” he growls as he prepares to fuck me again. I want him to more than I want to get out of here alive, but I won’t let him have me again because he doesn’t deserve the sensations that using my body provides for him.
“Open your fucking legs,” he grunts as he attempts to use his knees to pry them apart, and that’s when I raise my hand.
It’s when I bring it down as swiftly as I can and with all the strength left inside of me that I’ve been able to muster.
It’s when his eyes widen as a hand moves quickly to the side of his neck, a river of blood flowing freely onto my almost naked body.
It’s when …
***
I sigh as I get up from my chair and walk back into my home to refill my cup. It’s such a beautiful day outside and while I don’t really care for sunlight, I need a little more time to decide what to do.
I open the refrigerator and remove the carton, filling my glass to the brim, before putting it away and closing the door.
Before I go back outside, I walk into my small living room and look at Duran. He’s lying on my couch, a pale yellow, his body showing early signs of putrefying and I smile.
He was able to walk home with me the night I stabbed him and I promised to get him help once we got back.
I lied.
Just like he did with the promise he showed me each night that I stood outside his window hoping for a beautiful dead.
The night before my mother left me she sang me a little song and it’s stuck with me ever since.
“If a boy ever wants to hurt you, you remember this,” she had said before she sang to me, “Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, kiss the boys then make them die.”
And that’s just what I did because I know it’s what my mother would have wanted.
About The Author
Yolanda Olson is an award-winning and international bestselling author. Born and raised in Bridgeport, CT where she currently resides, she usually spends her time watching her favorite channel, Investigation Discovery. Occasionally, she takes a break to write books and test the limits of her mind. Also an avid horror movie fan, she likes to incorporate dark elements into the majority of her books.
You can keep in touch with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
About by Yolanda
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