Marked

by Charisse Spiers

  He is standing with one arm crossed over his chest, the opposite elbow resting on top of his hand, leading upward to the hand that is covering his mouth. He stares at me, remaining silent. "What? Why are you looking at me?"

  He drops his hand, a laugh clearly being muted from the pursing of his lips. I'm glad someone finds this funny. "I was only going to get you a bandage. You're bleeding."

  He steps forward and grabs the hand that's been staring at his face, turning it palm up. The cut pulled open, bleeding again. With his other hand he grabs the bottom hem of the shirt, lifting it toward my line of vision. There is a line of blood stained on the front of the shirt that matches the cut. "But I'm glad you got all of that off your chest. We should always be on the same page. I wouldn't want you to just use me for sex and run off," he says sarcastically. "I'm not that kind of guy. I hope you understand."

  I laugh. "Fuck you."

  "Triggers, Lux. If you want food I suggest you refrain from anything that will remind me."

  "You're such a hornball. You're going to wear my vagina out and then it will lose its appeal."

  "I'm a man. It comes with the dick and balls between my legs just like an instruction manual. That’s just a myth. There is no such thing as a worn out pussy unless you start fucking something on the sly with a bigger dick than me. I will know. The end."

  “A man with a bigger dick than you would be a porn star. No thanks. I’d like to stay away from hospitals.” He smirks, clearly amused. “You know, just in case you were wondering. I know all guys do…” I tap my head. “Want to know the comparison to the last. You, sir, have one worthy of trophies.”

  “Touché. I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or a cut down that you can still remember said previous dick sizes.” He pauses. “Well at least you’re honest,” he says in a laugh as he shakes his head.

  I roll my eyes as he pulls me to the bathroom and sits me on the counter. He squats and starts digging through the cabinets below as I look at the blood oozing out of the cut, remembering the shit I've done within the last twenty-four hours. "I think you've brainwashed my pussy anyway," I mumble. "The thought of promiscuity or changing dicks like wardrobes doesn't hold the same flame and attraction as it did not all that long ago."

  He stands and grabs my hand, holding it over the sink as he pours the peroxide over the cut. I watch it bubble along the blade line. "I'm choosing to take that as a compliment or it might have the opposite effect. I don't really want to imagine you fucking someone else."

  He looks at me. "Would you want to visualize me fucking another girl?"

  My eyes zone out as he starts patting along the cut with cotton. "Well I mean, I'm not stupid enough to think you've never slept with anyone else."

  "That wasn't my question. Do you want to have that thought developing in your mind like deadly bacteria now that I've been inside you?"

  He places the large adhesive bandage over my cut and comes to stand between my legs, placing his hands to each side of my hips on the marble. "Lux, look at me."

  I do as he says, not sure where this is going. "Do you want to imagine my cock being in another woman, making her come like I make you come?"

  I search his eyes, my breathing changing pace. My face feels hot. My body temperature is elevating. I feel like I need water. "Do you want to visualize my mouth on another woman's tits like they suck on yours?"

  My stomach starts churning, nausea setting in. I feel like I have a hangover minus the alcohol and good time. My fingertips take residence between my lips, my eyes turning away from him. He grabs my chin, pulling it back. "Do you want to mentally watch me come from another woman milking my cock like you do?"

  "Kaston, stop. I get it. Fuck. Don't be an asshole."

  "Exactly. Every time you mention fucking someone else that's the bare minimum of what goes through my mind. Men have carnal characteristics by nature. We're visual. We're jealous. We're fucking Neanderthals. You bait us and we're going to attack. You do not mess with a man's woman or his mancave."

  He brings his hands to the sides of my face, his fingertips running into my hairline. "I don't care who was before me, because it’s part of the past, but that doesn't mean I want to hear about it. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. Got me?"

  "Okay," I say breathless. I feel like my emotions are in the front seat of a roller coaster. In a split second I can go from turned on to frustrated, then angry to guilty. I grab his waist and pull him closer. "I didn't know you really cared. I'll work on a filter."

  "Lux...."

  "Yeah."

  "I'm a hitman."

  "Do what? I am clearly hearing things."

  "I would imagine you probably heard that accurately. You asked how I choose them. They are chosen for me."

  "Like someone pays you to kill someone?"

  "Yes."

  I'm trying hard to wrap my head around this concept. I really thought those were more of a folktale or movie plot than anything. When I think of plotted killings I think of mafia or serial killers. I must be fucking insane. Am I really even having this kind of a conversation with someone? My tongue develops a mind of its own. "So you just kill for anyone that has enough money to request it?"

  "No."

  "Okay.... Will you explain?"

  His face is serious and focused on mine, as if waiting for me to freak out any moment. He looks tense. "Promise you'll listen? Don't run."

  "Yes. On blood." I lock my legs around his waist, silent for a moment. "I'm not sure that I could, Kaston."

  His shoulders fall as if he just breathed for the first time in minutes. "There are those kinds of hitmen that are kill for hire no questions asked, but I’m not one of them. I would have had a sister, a half sister. We shared a father, but because of certain circumstances I never met her. She was older."

  "Was?"

  "She's dead. When she was thirteen she was raped and murdered one night when she was walking home from a friend's house. It was a safe neighborhood and just a few blocks from home, so it wasn't abnormal. This was twenty years ago. No one saw anything, or so they said, but she must have tried to scream because he slit her throat while he raped her, trying to sever her vocal chord but cut too far. The sick fuck continued to rape her as she bled out, getting off on it."

  My insides start twisting into knots. He's shaking as he holds me, his eyes void, dark. His voice gets deeper and harsher with every sentence that is constructed with his tongue. "She was someone's daughter, sister, and a fucking kid. My dad wasn't a push over. To him the only option was to avenge her death. Finding the person that did it became his obsession, his every thought. He barely slept until he did, and when he did he killed them in the same way they killed her, only with an object instead of a person, for obvious reasons and to make it more brutal. When that sick fuck died he knew how it felt to be raped, but Dad didn't stop there. He realized how littered the world is with bad people, people that should have never been conceived, people that sit and wait to hurt those that don't deserve it. He couldn't move on without attempting to rid the world of monsters one at a time. He only took the souls of the evil, never those of the innocent, returning them to the place they belong."

  My mind zones out.

  Mom wonders in, drunk, with makeup smeared underneath her eyes. Her clothes are out of place, but she didn't care enough to fix them. Her hair is disheveled. She falls back first on the couch, placing her feet in my lap. "When did you get home," she slurs in question.

  "I haven't been anywhere. I've been here the whole time."

  "I need you to do something for me."

  "What, Mom? Are you sick? Do you need some medicine?"

  "We're behind on the rent again."

  "What do you want me to do, Mom? I'm not old enough to work yet."

  "I had to use the money I made selling to pay it, but now he's here to collect his cut. I don't have it."

  Someone starts banging on the door. "Open the door, Katherine. I want my money."

&nb
sp; My heart starts pounding in my chest. Mom sits up and looks at me. "Please, Lux. I need your help. I tried. He doesn't want me. The only way to protect us is to give him what he wants. He's willing to wipe my debt clean; a fresh start."

  "Katherine, it's you or her. What's it going to be? Open the fucking door."

  The doorknob starts turning, the door shaking as he tries to break through. "What am I supposed to do? What does he want?"

  She fumbles to the side table and opens the drawer, pulling something out, before handing it to me. It's a small, square package. I take it, studying the writing on the front: Durex condom. The boys at school sometimes joke about these. I drop it and push her legs off of me. "No, Mom. I can't."

  She grabs my face in her hands. "This isn't up for discussion. We have no choice. We're a team remember. I took one for the team once. I'm looking at it. We all have to sacrifice to survive, Lux. We have to play with cards we're dealt. There is a secret to getting through it. Be whoever you want to be. Just pretend you're a princess. He's your prince. Create a story in your head. By the time it ends it'll all be over. This one is actually cute, and young. I would do it if he wanted me, but he doesn't. He wants you."

  The door opens by force and he walks in, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into a standing position. He looks at my mother. "You so much as fucking mouth this to anyone else and I'll fucking kill you myself, then sell her off. Those guys won't take care of her like I will, so you better take this to your grave."

  Mom nods and stands, before turning for the door. She slams it behind her, leaving me alone with him. I feel sick. What's going to happen to me? "Show me to your bed."

  My breathing becomes loud as I lead him down the hallway of the trailer, turning into my bedroom. He walks in and shuts the door behind me, then starts to remove his belt. "Take off your clothes. I want to look at you."

  He removes his shirt, revealing the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. My hands fumble for the button on my pants, trying to get them undone. After a few tries I get them open and push them to my feet, before stepping out of them, leaving my bottom half bare, and then follow through with my tee shirt as he lays the gun on my dresser and removes his pants, showing himself. His private part is hard. Kids at school talk about what adults do, but we've never witnessed it aside from what they show in movies. Those people are always in love, though. "Have you ever touched one?"

  I shake my head.

  He walks toward me, placing his hands on my body, before squeezing my butt. He rubs them up my sides, stopping next at my boobs. His thumb rubs over the center part, making it tingle. "Nature has been good to you. Your body makes you look twice your age. You can trust me. I'll be good to it. Touch my dick."

  My hand inches forward, my fingertips touching it. "Hold it in your hand."

  I do as he says. "Don't be scared of it. It'll make you feel good." He turns us around and sits on the edge of the bed. "Rub it."

  My hand rubs up and down slowly. "Like that. Can I touch you, Lux?"

  I remember what Mom said. I nod. He puts his hand behind my thigh and pulls it up into a bend, until my foot is resting on the mattress. He keeps it there and moves his other hand between my legs. "I'm not going to hurt you, okay, but it will hurt before it feels good. I'm not a bad guy. If you trust me I'll make your life better."

  He presses his finger inside, catching me by surprise. It doesn't hurt. He told me the truth. He pulls out and presses back in, in a repeated motion. After a few times he pulls out and drags his finger higher, where he starts rubbing in circles with his fingertips. It feels strange at first, then good. Should it feel good?

  "Kiss me, Lux. Show me that you want this."

  I feel like I have butterflies in my stomach. What if I'm not good at it? "Okay."

  I lean in and press my lips against his. As soon as I do he takes over, moving his lips with mine, showing me how. His tongue slips between my lips until his tongue finds mine. He makes a sound in his throat, before standing and turning us around, laying me back on the bed. He doesn't stop as he crawls us up to the center of my bed, on top of me.

  He stops and looks at me. "Trust me, Lux. I'm not trying to hurt you. Do you understand? Don't scream."

  I shakily nod my head, nervous. He kisses me again and spreads open my legs, gently rubbing them, relaxing me a little when I feel him there, between my legs... and then comes pain as he pushes himself inside of me. It takes my breath away. He continues to kiss me. I try to focus on that as he uses his hips against my body, steering himself into me, getting faster each time. It hurts. My mind drifts someplace else. I'm a princess and he's my prince. Today is our wedding day...

  "Lux! Are you okay? Talk to me. You're freaking me the fuck out."

  I blink, staring into Kaston's eyes. I can feel the stomach acid climbing my esophagus, looking for an exit. I cover my mouth with one hand and push him back, trying to rush for the toilet before it's too late.

  I grab my hair as I reach it across the bathroom, kneeling in front of it on my knees as my face aligns with the bowl, expelling the contents of my stomach, over and over. "Please leave," I manage to say between heaves.

  "No," he says as he lines himself behind me, grabbing my hair to hold.

  "Please."

  "I'm not leaving."

  My stomach muscles continue to contract, even though I feel like I have nothing left. The noise comes, but nothing else. The dry heaves continue, unable to stop them. Silence fills the room when I'm finally able to breathe. I flush the toilet for the third time since I started and turn to sit on the floor against the wall. Kaston is squatting in front of me, staring at me with a serious demeanor. I can see the question written all over his face, even though it hasn’t even been long enough for that to be possible. "Before you have any thoughts whatsoever, I swear on my fucking life I'm not pregnant. This isn't what it looks like."

  "I never asked."

  "If I were you I would have. I figured I would beat you to it."

  "While I appreciate that, it's not necessary. Talk to me. What just happened?"

  "I prefer not to. I think you'll be thankful if I don't."

  My eyes start to water. He comes closer to my face, but I grab the collar of the shirt and pull it up over my nose, covering my mouth.

  "Don't hide from me. I told you something about myself. It's your turn. That's how it works. I could find things out on my own, but I'm trying to give you what you want by letting you do it. Either way, I want to know."

  I lean my head back against the wall, looking into his eyes as he grabs my waist and flips us over, pulling me in a straddling position on his lap as he takes my previous place. He grabs the shirt and pulls it back where it belongs around my neck. "I just want to know you, good or bad."

  I work to get ahold of myself, pulling that shield back in place as he removes my now dirty tee shirt, leaving me naked. "When vulnerable you trust more easily. Let me show you the part that comes after sex."

  The only other person that knows anything about me is Delta. How do you let someone in when you've spent your whole life keeping them out? It comes second nature to me. I've been fighting a battle since I was a kid. Sometimes, though, I'm exhausted. I'm tired of being forced to have my shit together all the time. Maybe one by one I can let go of the demons, but no matter how bad I want to I can never completely break, because nothing is ever as strong when put back together as the original piece.

  I breathe deeply; making sure my stomach is now settled. I haven't thrown up over that shit in a long time. I don't like it emerging like that. "I guess I'll just introduce myself. It's easiest. The only reason I was conceived was because my mother was raped by the rich motherfucker that she worked for. I guess that's one way to take care of your personal assistant. The only reason I was born was because her conscience wouldn't let her get rid of me; that and by the time she was able to cope properly it was too late. That was the single event in life that entered us into Hell, and my life was shitty till the d
ay I graduated high school, when I moved here. Some things I'll talk about and some will take time. I suppose, like you, I have triggers too."

  He tangles his hands in my hair, pulling my face toward him. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. It just keeps getting more ironic. Fuck, Lux. It's starting to make a little sense. Where have you been?" He asks that question as if he's really asking himself. I close my mouth as his lips brush mine, my eyes now closed. "Let it go," he says, and presses his lips to mine, forcing his way inside until I cave.

  One hand lowers to my waist, the other staying positioned at the back of my head as he lays me on the tile floor, holding his body on top of me, and rubbing his hand along my upper leg. My phone starts ringing as he shoves two fingers inside of me. "Dammit," I mumble against his lips.

  I try to sit up, but he blocks me. "Let it go to voicemail. You can call them back. This is more important than a fucking phone call."

  I kiss his lips and lightly shove his chest. "That may be, but I work today. It could be my boss and you can't get me out of it today. It's time for some kind of domesticated schedule like normal people. I have to work, Kaston."

  He rolls off of me, propping himself on his elbows to look at me as I stand and walk to the nightstand where my phone is sitting. The bathroom door is directly across from the bed. I grab the phone off the table and look at him, as I press the answer button. "Don't look at me like that," I tease as I place the phone to my ear when he gives me puppy eyes.

  "I'm not looking at you, but I just arrived at your apartment. The door is locked and you aren't answering. Where are you?"

  My mouth drops, my expression becoming serious. "Mom. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

  "I decided to come early. Surprise! Can you come?"

  Kaston stands from the floor and starts walking in my direction. I turn around. "Uh, I have to work for a few hours, but then I can. If I tell you where the key is can you just hang out until I get off?"

  "Of course. Where is it?"

  "It's sitting on the top of the door frame. It’s a short night for me at work. I'll be home at midnight, but there's food, hot water, a television with cable, and a couch. Make yourself at home."