Dirty Puppet
S.S. Richards
Dirty Puppet Copyright © 2020 by S.S. Richards
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places or events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.
Contents
Warning
Dedication
1. Connor
2. Katya
3. Connor
4. Connor
5. Katya
6. Connor
7. Connor
8. Katya
9. Katya
10. Katya
11. Connor
12. Katya
13. Katya
14. Connor
15. Connor
16. Connor
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by S.S. Richards
About the Author
Warning
Dirty Puppet is a dark psychological romance. There are extreme sexual themes and violence in certain scenes, which could trigger emotional distress.
Please proceed with caution.
You’ve been warned, so don’t say I didn’t try.
However, if you’ve read my previous work and you trust my writing, then carry on reading… I promise you a happily ever after.
xx
S.S. Richards
To every single domestic abuse survivor, and the one that’s in the process of freeing herself:
You are strong, and inspiring to so many others. Let your voice and stories help the ones in need.
You are worth it.
Your body is cherished.
It’s never too late to change the story.
It’s never too late to walk away.
You got this! For you’re so beautiful and strong, darling.
Please visit https://www.thehotline.org/is-this-abuse/ if you’re a victim of domestic violence.
Connor
“So? What do you think?” Mr. Hewitt says with a grin displayed on his face. He’s just a real estate agent who will stop at nothing until he finds the best buyer.
And today’s his day, because I plan on buying this mansion.
Scratching my jaw, my eyes study the large place, knowing it will be mine as soon as I let out the words. After all, the neighborhood is quiet, and the house is exactly how I want it to be.
Calm.
Serene.
Peaceful.
Nothing like my past …
This house represents everything I’ve always craved. Far away from the city life and the noises of the world.
Flitting my eyes to Mr. Hewitt, I say, “I want it.”
I don’t miss the sparkle in his eyes as he rubs his palms and grins at me, revealing flawless white teeth. The fucker is making a great amount of commission by selling the house to me.
“I’ll get all the paperwork ready in a blink of an eye, Mr. Pierce,” he says happily as he leaves the room.
The sound of his heels against the polished floor causes my blood to run hot in my veins. Even a sound as simple as the one of shoes causes me to want to cover my ears with my palms.
Their screams …
Their voices …
Shaking the memory away, I walk toward the vast windows and narrow my eyes at the house across from mine.
The house is a bit smaller than mine, but it’s still a mansion that’s probably worth more than three million dollars. Two Porsches are parked in its driveway. But it looks peaceful and calm.
Just like the whole neighborhood.
Turning around, I make my way over to Mr. Hewitt, who’s on his knees buried in a pile of papers spread all over the floor. When he sees me, he instantly bolts up, a piece of paper and a pen clenched tightly in his hands.
“All you need to do is sign over here, Mr. Pierce, and the house will be yours,” he explains, handing me the pen and the piece of paper.
Grabbing both items, I quickly and carefully read the agreement I’m about to sign.
One single signature and the house is mine.
I eventually sign it and hand it back to him. Mr. Hewitt’s grin is huge and his cheeks are flushed.
I ignore his words as he congratulates me, and I look around. For years, I have struggled to find inner peace. I had to get through university while remaining focused on my main goal.
And I did.
Today, I’m one of the nation’s best criminal defense lawyers. But I have demons that follow me everywhere I go. And although they belong to my past, I can’t seem to shake them away and scrub them off my body.
I thought money would erase my horrific past and the dejection my soul suffered from for so many years while I lived with them.
But I was wrong.
Money only buys you materialistic things like this mansion.
The house is soundproof. I won’t hear a single fly if it decides to fly by my house. I will never ever hear screams or voices that irritate my inner calmness.
Tonight, everything changes.
Mr. Hewitt’s small voice drags me from my thoughts. “I’m on my way out, Mr. Pierce.”
Turning around, I smile at him and nod once as I extend my handout.
“Thanks Mr. Hewitt. You’ve been helpful. I’m moving in tonight.”
With the stupid grin still displayed on his face, he nods his head frantically.
“Of course, Mr. Pierce. It’s all yours now. Have a wonderful day.”
He hurries toward the main entrance and shuts the door behind him. The door slams and I, once again, wince as the sound reverberates off the empty walls.
It’s okay.
Focus on your breathing.
Focus on clenching and unclenching your fingers.
Do anything.
Just do not visit them.
Suddenly, peace descends on me as my mind quiets and the dark corners of my brain shut down.
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I remove my dress shoes and decide to walk barefoot in the house.
I enter every bedroom and every washroom. I revel in the calmness that feeds the inner storm that lives within me with serenity. I refuse to give in to the ugly memories that haunt me.
I refuse to let them win.
Entering an empty room, I walk slowly toward the window when my phone starts buzzing in my pants.
Looking out the window, I insert my hand into my right pocket and pull out my phone. I answer the call and bring the phone to my ear.
“Connor speaking.”
“Yes it’s me. Did you end up buying the house?”
Brian, my best friend, and the man I’ve known since I was a child, calls me every day to check up on me, because if he doesn’t, I simply will never reach out to him unless I need something.
It’s not because I’m a terrible friend, but because in the past, every time I struggled while living under my father’s roof, Brian was there to pick up the pieces when I would get kicked out.
Now that I’m a rich adult who’s totally capable of taking care of himself, I refrain from bothering him and his pregnant wife.
I owe that much to him, at least.
“I bought it,” I say firmly, my eyes glued to the house across from mine.
Why do I keep staring at it? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the cars parked in its driveway that I’m fond of. Or maybe it’s the way all the curtains have been shut except for one of them.
My eyes remain fixated on the window, hoping I will see someone.
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“Okay. Mary and I will come visit you to congratulate you,” Brian says, disturbing my fixated gaze and my daze.
“Um … Not today. I’ll call and let you know when you guys can stop by.”
His sigh is heavy and thick with meaning.
“I know you, Connor. You will never call.”
“I will,” I reply firmly, even though I know he’s absolutely right.
“Fine, I’ll let you go. Talk to you later,” he says, and I end the call. My eyes are still fixated on the window, and as soon as I’m about to remove my gaze from it, I see someone, and the whole world stops.
Dark, haunting eyes look out the window across from my house. A woman, so beautiful that touching her would feel like touching snow, pure and soft, stares at my house. But she isn’t really here. Her mind is buried somewhere else as she looks so deep in thought that I instantly wish I could open her mind and discover what has gotten her undivided attention.
I take a step forward, my eyes never leaving her. My heart starts hammering in my chest and my hands absently ball into fists.
I frown.
She looks sad, miserable, empty…
I suddenly feel the need to storm out of this house and knock on her door so I can understand what’s going on with her. I can’t seem to wrap my head around how dejected she looks.
I’m staring at her, unmoving, when my breathing suddenly hitches and I freeze.
Her gaze has changed direction and is now staring right into my soul.
Can she see me?
I swallow the lump in my throat and exhale deeply. Her big, dark-brown eyes are fixated on me, and her plump lips are pink and slightly parted.
Minutes turn into hours as we stare at each other, looking through each other’s souls and somehow feeding each other’s inner darkness.
Her gaze flits absently to the right, and that’s when I realize she wasn’t actually looking at me.
But I’ve noticed her, and I can’t unsee her.
As if she were just a figment of my imagination, she disappears, and I’m left staring at an empty window.
I take a quick glance at my watch and realize it’s time to get the moving truck in here.
I have a long day ahead of me, and although I’m excited to settle into my new house, part of me is screaming to not go down that road again. I shouldn’t … But I believe I have just found a new distraction.
Katya
I look out the window and inhale deeply. The sound of birds is soothing, and the breeze coming through the crack is fresh, making me close my eyes for a moment. The mesmerizing quietness is the main reason why I always get up at dawn.
I inhale deeply and exhale smoothly, filling my lungs with fresh air and trying my best to enjoy the moment before he wakes up.
The moment I hear his heavy footsteps upstairs, my breathing quickens, and I swallow hard before closing the window and turning the coffee machine on so it starts brewing.
The water running upstairs in the bathroom indicates he’s taking a shower. I know I have about fifteen minutes of alone time before he comes downstairs.
I put my apron on and begin washing the dishes. I focus on the task with my heart in my throat. I go through the same thing on a daily basis, yet I still can’t shake the anxiety and fear that grips at my chest every time he wakes up.
Maybe because I never know what to expect when it comes to him.
Maybe because he’s destroyed every ounce of fire that ever lived in me.
Or maybe my soul and body have gotten so used to the abuse that this is the only reaction I have.
I’m scrubbing a plate with everything I have when the feeling of a meaty hand on my shoulder halts my movements.
Instantly, my hands begin shaking and my body’s temperature drops.
Goosebumps decorate my skin and my heart hammers in my chest.
“Morning, Puppet,” he whispers in my ear, and I flinch.
I wash my hands quickly and free myself from his grip by rushing to the coffee machine and pouring him a hot cup of coffee.
I pour three tablespoons of sugar in his coffee and gag silently like I always do. Logan clears his throat and takes a seat at one of the kitchen stools.
I can feel his eyes on me as I mix the sugar in the coffee. Once I’m done mixing, I walk over to him with my head cast down, and gently place the mug in front of him.
“Good girl. Sleep tight?”
Always the same stupid questions that I despise with a passion. I flit my gaze to his and nod once before faking a smile.
“Good.” He half-smiles and takes a sip before unlocking his phone and staring at it.
I sigh in relief and start making breakfast. I busy myself while he no doubt catches up on the news.
Every morning, I make him scrambled eggs and bacon. It’s his favorite breakfast and the only thing Logan eats in the morning.
I make myself one toast with butter and sit next to him after handing him his plate. He puts his phone aside and starts eating.
It’s always hard to eat with him being this close to me. I always find myself unable to breathe properly and unable to think. His presence sucks the energy out of me, leaving me empty.
We continue eating in silence, and the moment his gaze flits to my plate, he breaks the silence.
“Why are you barely eating?”
I stop chewing and swallow hard. My gaze never leaving the plate in front of me.
“You’re getting skinnier as the days go by. Eat your food. You know I don’t like it when you don’t eat,” he says sternly, and I instantly take another bite. Followed by another, and another, until I finish the full toast.
I can feel the pieces of bread wanting to come out already, but I prevent them by swallowing constantly as he stands up and walks over to the sink to wash his hands.
When he finishes, he lifts the towel and dries his hand carefully before hanging the towel back in its place.
Logan hates messes. And it’s my job to make sure everything is organized and taken care of to his satisfaction.
I can hear his heavy footsteps getting closer as he makes his way over to me. I pick up the empty plates off the island and quickly rush to the sink, but he catches me and my heart skips a beat the moment his long arms wrap around my waist.
They’re warm just like usual, and they fit perfectly around my thin body. But God only knows the amount of pain his arms and hands cause me.
As if he can read my thoughts, he squeezes hard, and a suffocated gasp escapes my lips. I start breathing heavily, waiting for him to lose it on me without even knowing the reason why.
“When I come back from work, I want you to be waiting for me in the newest black dress I bought for you,” he whispers in my ear, and I absently close my eyes for a moment until he squeezes even tighter. “Understood?” he asks hoarsely, and I nod frantically, hoping and praying desperately he doesn’t hurt me this morning. My bruises from the day before yesterday haven’t healed yet, and since I haven’t been sleeping well, I’m also extremely exhausted.
As soon as he releases me, I drop the plates inside the sink and wince at the loud sound they make as they clink together.
I hate the noise.
I despise loud sounds, including his footsteps as he leaves the kitchen and heads upstairs.
I let out a deep breath the moment I’m alone in the kitchen and swallow my anxiety. Only ten more minutes before he leaves and I’m back in ultimate peace before he comes back from work hours later.
With his thumb pressed against my jugular on a daily basis, I have learned to take the pain and live day by day, since I never know what tomorrow holds.
I finish washing the dishes and lean my back against the counter as I hear his footsteps coming downstairs.
Holding my breath in, I stare at the door and wait for him to walk in and kiss me goodbye. Or maybe punish me for something I didn’t do.
He shows up at the door with a grin displayed on his face. Logan is charming. His light-br
own hair is pushed back and sleek. His brown eyes are big and haunting as he regards me intently. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember what made me fall for him five years ago. He was everything I needed. Yet he ended up being everything I wish I could escape.
“Puppet?” he calls, and I flinch before drawing a smile on my face.
“Happy anniversary. We’ll celebrate tonight, okay?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod my agreement.
“And don’t forget,” he warns, pointing at the camera that’s hung in the corner of the kitchen. “I’m always watching you.”
His last words are heavy and thick with meaning. I don’t waste time and nod again like an obedient dog before he walks away. It’s only when I hear the entrance door close that I decide to inhale deeply and exhale smoothly.
Silence descends on me like an avalanche and I find myself smiling like a stupid woman. But I can never show how happy I am when he isn’t here, since he’s always watching me. There’s a camera in every single room in the house except for the hallways and the bathrooms. And I never want to upset him, for I’m always the one to pay the price.
My body’s done with the brutality of his strong hands, and my mind can barely handle what’s left of it that hasn’t been shattered by Logan and his mental mistreat.
I’m nothing but his puppet. And so I will be for the rest of my life.
* * *
The black dress fits me perfectly. As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I ponder what life would have turned out to be if it wasn’t for meeting Logan.
I inhale deeply and shake my head. Thinking about this won’t change the fact that my present life is pitiful.
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