Nothing about it is normal. And I didn’t choose any of it …
The moment I hear the clinking of the keys, my eyes widen and I strengthen my stance while facing the door.
The pounding of my heart increases, and I start playing with my hands nervously as the entrance door opens wide and Logan walks in, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hand.
I smile at him, like I always do. It’s the only thing I can do anyway.
His eyes travel up and down my length, studying me and stripping me of my clothes with one gaze.
I swallow hard.
“Beautiful,” he whispers as he closes the door behind him, and removes his shoes, setting them on the shoe rack to his left.
He takes two steps toward me and offers me the bouquet.
With shaky hands, I take it and inhale the earthy scent of the flowers. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulls me toward him and brings his lips to mine. He kisses me, forcibly slipping his tongue in-between my lips.
I part my lips for him, allowing him access. His hardness rubs against my belly, and I mentally prepare myself for whatever is yet to come once he’s pounding inside of me.
He reaches in-between my legs and pushes my panties to the side. He inserts three dry fingers inside my folds, and I wince but manage to throw my head back to show him I’m enjoying this even though I am not.
I hate this. I don’t want this.
But the choice is never mine to make.
It’s my body, but it’s his. Nothing that’s mine belongs to me.
He continues to finger-fuck me, hurting me and making me my legs quiver with the amount of cruelty he’s doing it with.
How many times have I wanted to scream? How many times have I craved to melt or die and stop existing?
Yet I can’t do either. My destiny is to suffer at the hands of the mentally ill man who claims he loves me more than I love myself.
I begin running, escaping, fading toward darkness where my safety net is when the doorbell rings and I freeze. We never get visitors.
I look at Logan, whose fingers stopped assaulting me as he frowns at the door. He doesn’t look impressed at all. He pulls his fingers out of me and I wince again at the pain. But I quickly squeeze my legs after pulling my panties up.
He curses as the doorbell rings again.
“Open the fucking door. I’m heading to the washroom. I’ll be right back,” he bites out, walking away hurriedly and rushing toward the bathroom.
With a trembling hand, I open the door and freeze.
Connor
“Good evening, ma’am,” I say firmly, ignoring the way her big, raven eyes stare at me as if she has just seen a ghost.
I’m greeted by her deviant stare and a deadly silence as we both look deeply into each other’s eyes.
When the silence becomes unbearable, I clear my throat.
“I’m your new neighbor who lives across from your house. I didn’t mean to bother you, I just wanted to introduce myself,” I say, and offer her my hand. “I’m Connor Pierce.”
Her gaze flits to my hand quickly before meeting my eyes again. But she doesn’t shake my hand. That same stupid frightened look I saw the other day never leaving her eyes.
And suddenly, I feel rage boiling in my blood. The same one I felt when I saw her from my window. Except by being this close to her, I can see her freckles and smell the rosy scent of her that I know I could easily get addicted to.
“Can I help you?” A sudden manly voice says from behind her, and I don’t miss the way she flinches as he approaches us.
“I was just introducing myself to your wife, sir. I’m your new neighbor who just moved across. Connor Pierce, nice to meet you.”
I offer him my hand, and he shakes it with a grin displayed on his face.
“Logan Clark, and this is my fiancée, Katya Rivera. Nice to meet you,” he says sternly, and I nod once.
My gaze drifts over to Katya who’s still looking at me wide-eyed. Her chest is heaving, and her throat keeps bobbing as she constantly swallows.
It doesn’t take a smart person to pick up on what’s going on here.
She is scared. Of him or me? I’m not sure.
But I will figure it all out.
“I didn’t mean to disturb your evening, but I just wanted to do the right thing. Nice to meet you ma’am,” I tell her again, my eyes looking right into hers as she forces a small smile.
My heart drops into my stomach at the sight of her lips stretching to form a beautiful smile on her face.
“Katya doesn’t speak.” Logan’s words drag me from my daze.
I frown and look at him.
“Doesn’t speak?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Logan shakes his head. “It’s been three years.”
His words cause the blood to drain from my face. I look at her and she drops her gaze to the floor. I ball my hands into fists to ease the achiness that’s nudging at my fingers that want to desperately reach for her chin and lift it up.
A beat of silence goes on as I stare at her.
“Mr. Pierce, you’re a lawyer aren’t you?” Logan asks.
“Yes,” I say firmly, my gaze never leaving the woman before me.
How can she look so miserable and yet the man who claims to be her partner isn’t doing anything about it?
I swallow the needles in my throat. I need to know what’s happening. Her silence is so deafening I can’t seem to focus on anything right now but her.
“Of course. Everybody knows about you. You have a reputation of being one of the best lawyers in the state.” He chuckles, and I almost wince at the ugly sound erupting from his throat.
Feeling overwhelmed and craving silence again, I take a step back.
“Nice meeting you both,” I say and turn around to leave.
“Stop by tomorrow, Mr. Pierce. Just to have some drinks with a couple friends of mine.” Logan’s words halt my steps.
I almost decline his invite. Almost turn around swiftly and plunge my fist in his face, but instead I nod once and say, “I’ll be there.”
* * *
Katya
The moment Logan shuts the door, I relax my body and breathe out heavily. The man—Connor Pierce—studied me like he could read my mind. It bothered me. I tried to avoid eye contact but it was so hard. His gaze bore into me and I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t in a bad way. It felt as if I was the one who didn’t want to breathe while standing in front of him. I didn’t want to think as he read through my thoughts and no doubt heard me screaming for his help.
Ever since I stopped talking, the world became even smaller than it used to be. With no way out, I gave up trying to escape Logan. My body and mind became so used to the abuse that I’m subjected to on a daily basis.
I turn around to head over to the kitchen when Logan’s meaty hand grips my forearm, his nails digging into my flesh.
“You fucking bitch,” he snarls, causing my breath to hitch.
He pushes me with force, sending me colliding with the wall behind me. I ignore the pain radiating up my spine and focus on running toward my safety net.
In my head, when the darkness rises and my twisted mind goes to sleep, he can never find me.
I stop hearing him. But I watch as he lifts his arm in the air, and his hand comes down and whips across my face. I fall to the ground and remain there.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
Just a numb, useless body pooled on the floor next to where his foot keeps kicking my gut.
I look into his face. Anger morphs his beautiful features, making him look like the monster that he is.
His lips are moving, no doubt cursing me to hell.
But here, in the darkness, I’m safe.
I know that tomorrow, every inch of my body will hurt. Every single part of it will be screaming for help.
My vision blurs and suddenly, cold water splashes strongly on my face. It’s wintry and suddenly, it feel
s like thousands of knives are cutting through my flesh.
My eyes widen, and I hear his screams. I feel the torment all over my body.
He pulled me out of my safety net.
“Stay with me you fucking whore,” he curses, pressing his shoe heel into my ribs. “I saw how you were looking at him. You liked him, didn’t you?” He presses even harder and my legs start trembling as a scream rises up my throat, wanting so desperately to come out.
But it doesn’t.
“Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”
I shake my head frantically, silently praying my mind could run to its safety net again.
But he doesn’t give me the chance to mentally run away from him. He fists my hair and drags me across the floor until he reaches the dining table and lifts me up.
He pushes my head down and positions me so my ass is rubbing against his hardness.
I breathe in and breathe out smoothly as he lifts my dress up, and rips my panties in half.
And right before I feel him plunging into my dry entrance, my mind runs further away from him toward the blackness.
Connor
I didn’t sleep.
Last night I kept walking around my whole house barefoot, cursing myself to hell for not letting what I saw go.
How can I let it go? Everything about her screamed for me to look through her silence. And I did. I heard her beastly wails loud and clear in my head.
I immediately understood what was happening. She’s in that house against her will.
But why doesn’t she run away? Why is she with him if she doesn’t want to be with him in the first place?
I shake my head and frown at the contract in my hand. I have cases piled on top of each other, and court dates almost every single day next week. But I can’t shake the image of her frightened face out of my head. Her silence consumed the darkest corners of my mind. It opened an old door I had closed and refused to ever open again.
Yet here I am, unable to stop thinking about them.
Their screams …
Their voices ...
I place the contract on my desk and rise from my seat. Leaving my office, I head downstairs to the kitchen and look at the time. It’s almost 7 pm. And although I’m usually productive when I work from home, I wasn’t productive at all today.
I walk slowly to the window after turning the coffee machine on and stare at the house that has become an obsession of mine. The house where the mute, beautiful woman lives her worst nightmares.
I turn off the coffee machine at the thought of her saddened face and pour myself some whiskey instead. The liquid travels down my throat, burning it, and I wince at the sensation.
Still looking out the window, I fish my phone out of my pocket and dial Brian.
“Well, well. Look who finally called!” he teases, and a small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Leave it to Brian to make me smile despite the roller coaster playing in my mind.
“How are you and how’s Mary?”
He sighs. “Oh well, she can’t wait to give birth. She says the little fucker in there keeps kicking almost all night, preventing her from sleeping.”
“Almost there.” I clear my throat and continue. “I need a favor from you.”
“Of course you do. I thought you were calling to set up a time so we can come visit you.”
“Soon, I promise. But I need details on a specific person.”
“No man, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m not going to risk my job again for you,” he snaps.
“Last time, Brian, I promise. I need this, it’s important,” I say, narrowing my eyes at the tall stranger who just got out of his Mercedes, a bottle of whiskey held tightly in his hands as he makes his way over to Katya’s house.
Brian’s sigh is deep, and it drags me from my daze.
“Connor, what are you cooking this time?” he asks, and I ponder his question before letting out my words.
The truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing. But I can’t ignore the look in her eyes. Her screams that I heard in my head have haunted me ever since.
There’s no way I’m letting this go.
“Her name is Katya Rivera. Whatever you find, send my way. Thanks, detective,” I say and end the call before he asks me further questions.
Without wasting any more time, I head upstairs to take a shower and get dressed. Twenty minutes later I’m heading out the door and crossing the street to my neighbor’s house.
I ring the doorbell and step back. Logan doesn’t take long to open the door wide and greet me with the fakest grin I’ve ever seen. If there’s one thing studying law has taught me, it’s to read people and determine with one single look whether they are criminals or not.
And this one is the biggest one of them all.
“Mr. Pierce!” he greets me, and extends his hand out to shake mine.
“Mr. Clark,” I say firmly, and shake his hand.
“Oh please, call me Logan.”
My eyes roam behind him, looking for her as I step inside the house and remove my shoes.
“Looking for something, Mr. Pierce?” he asks, and I turn my attention back to him.
Shaking my head, I say, “Nice place.”
“Thank you. Come on in, the guys are waiting inside.”
I follow him to the living room where two suited men are sitting on each corner of the large, grey sectional sofa. The moment they see me, they both stand up and shake my hand. Logan introduces each of them to me but I don’t focus on any of it. I don’t care what their names are. I don’t give a fuck what they do for a living. All I need to know is where she is.
I take a seat on the sofa and force myself to listen to one of the men’s dreary talk about his construction business. My thoughts are all about the woman that I can’t seem to pull out of my mind. My gaze flits to Logan as he chugs his brown liquid and starts pouring more in his glass. I watch attentively the slight shaking in his left hand, the way his lips are lazily moving as he laughs and talks to his other friend, the redness in his cheeks that keeps spreading all over his skin as he drinks some more, and I know that the man is already drunk.
I’m about to answer the fool who’s still babbling about his business when Logan’s voice gets all my attention.
“Puppet, pour Mr. Pierce a drink,” he says, looking straight behind me.
I instantly turn around and the moment I see her, I hold my breath. When her eyes drift to me before she quickly makes her way to the bar, I exhale.
I stare at her, unmoving. I notice the black dress she’s wearing that matches her raven hair. And then it hits me that every single time I see her, she’s always wearing black.
She makes her way over to me and everything around her goes in slow motion. She has the power of filling the room with her presence despite the eerie silence that follows her everywhere.
Her eyes bore into mine and suddenly she drops the glass and it shatters all over the room.
Her eyes widen at the realization and a soft gasp escapes her lips. She quickly turns back and hugs herself as she looks right into Logan’s fiery eyes.
“Clean your fucking mess, Katya,” he hisses through clenched teeth, and one of the men snorts at Logan’s words.
Katya drops to her knees and starts picking up the pieces with her hands. When I look down to my feet, I lean down to pick up a piece that made its way to me when our hands touch and I instantly look at her glassy eyes.
The world stops.
Silence falls on us like a tsunami and just like that, the room becomes serene with nobody in it but her and me.
With her being this close, I can sense her fear and hear her roars. They’re thundering hard and instead of recoiling, I find myself wanting to hear them all.
My eyes quickly study her body and I find myself raging as I stare at the bruises on her neck and forearms. I wonder how many more she has underneath that dress of hers. When I look down to her left hand, I see blood running from her palm as she squeezes a piece o
f glass. Her knuckles are white, making her skin even paler than it already is.
“Hurry the fuck up.” Logan’s loud voice drags both of us from our stupor.
She bolts up and makes her way out of the living room. My jaw clenches and I ball my fists. The urge to beat Logan up is strong. But I force myself to calm down, and rise from my seat.
“Where’s your washroom?” I ask and he points with his finger toward the door.
“Just down the hallway to your left. Sorry about that, she’ll make you another drink when she comes back.”
“I’m good. I can make my own,” I tell him and dash out of the room.
The hallway is dark except for one room to the left which I’m sure is the washroom. The door isn’t fully closed and I can hear the water running. I push the door open and see her standing in front of the sink, eyes glued to the mirror before her as water runs on her wound.
She doesn’t notice me as I step inside and lock the door.
She doesn’t flinch as I make my way over to her.
But the moment I stand behind her and stare at her reflection, she snaps out of her daze, lips slightly open, and pupils two sizes bigger.
She turns around swiftly, her chest collides with mine, and her stomach nudges the hardness in my pants.
She looks up at me and her breathing becomes labored. I step back to give her some space, and also to hopefully calm the angrily throbbing dick in my pants.
I grab her wounded hand in mine and reach for the towel behind me with my other hand. Placing the towel on her wound, I press on it slightly, and she looks down at her hand.
Her skin is unbearably cold. And all I want to do is warm it all up.
“Why are you still with him when he beats you up?” I ask, and she lifts her chin and looks straight into my eyes.
I didn’t expect an answer, but somehow, I hoped for a miracle to happen so I could hear her voice.
“Why are you still with him when he treats you the way he does? Do you love him?”
Her eyebrows furrow and I can see a bit of annoyance on her face which makes me smirk.
Dirty Puppet Page 2
