by Rina Kent
"I've heard worse," he replies, and despite it all, it hurts me for him. "Since you're getting so good at finding out the truth, ask me some more shit, Pet. I'm done holding back."
I don't know whether it's another way to torture myself or if I'm just being plain stupid, but Pandora's box is open now, and I want to bring out more demons.
"You've killed someone before, haven't you?" I whisper.
Jasper laughs.
At first, I think it's because the idea sounds ridiculous. A moment later, I wonder whether I'm being naive by thinking he's only killed one person.
"You want an answer?" He approaches me, grabbing my arms and pinning them behind my head. I struggle, but it's useless. "The fucking truth and nothing but, right, Pet?"
I let out a cry, pleading silently for him to stop.
He doesn't.
"Of course I've fucking killed," he hisses. "I'd do it again just to watch them die."
I recoil in disgust, the sheer force of his words spiraling me out of control. "Let go of me, you monster!"
"You wanted the truth, Pet. Now it's time to fucking handle it."
"Stop! Please, just stop!"
He grabs my hip with one hand, the other keeping my arms above my head. He slams my hips against the wall, and I cry out. "I love seeing the life leak out of them, Petal. I love watching their eyes go fucking dead. I revel in it. I live for it, to watch others die."
“Stop it.” My voice trembles with pure unhinged fear.
“This is your fucking truth and you get to hear it out.” His icy eyes turn bottomless like an ocean. “Remember that little doctor of yours? The one who dined and wined you? He didn’t get to say a word as my knife sliced him open.”
My eyes widen as I stare up at him. He killed Andrew. Oh, my God. He killed Andrew before I even met him.
Does that mean he’s been watching me since then?
His voice drops to a terrifying range. “I stood right there as life left his pathetic eyes.”
I start to cry then, and he finally seems to realize he's gone too far. He lets go of me, and stumbles back, as if he's shocked by his actions, too.
I open a drawer and pull out a pan with shaky fingers, pointing it at him. "Get the fuck out, Jas."
He stares at my would-be weapon. "You know I'll be back."
"Not if I can help it."
"Then, my little Petal..." He takes a step forward and I extend my arm with the pan, making him lift his arms in mock defeat. "You'll have to sleep with one eye open."
"Out, you... monster." I point to the door and push him forward with my free hand. "Out. Out. Out. Now!"
He stumbles opens the door and walking into the hallway. I toss his hoodie and leather jacket after him, and he glares at me from outside.
"You're the worst of the worst, Jas," I tell him. "A stalker. A fucking killer. I never want to see you again."
I slam the door before I can see his reaction.
The moment we're separated by the wood, I slide down the door to the floor, sobbing my heart out. I wait for the knock that never comes. I count seconds, all the way to five-hundred, before I pick myself up and drag myself to the shower. I spend an eternity scrubbing my body, at the same time wanting to get every trace of Jasper off my skin and hating losing his scent. But I keep scrubbing, anyway.
After my skin is rubbed raw and red, I dress in a pair of comfortable PJs and wait by my phone until seven a.m. Then, I call a number I've written down on a Post-It, shakily leaving a message at the beep.
"Hello. I would like to request someone to change my locks as soon as possible. Today, if you can. Yes, it's urgent."
17
Jasper
Fear.
Deep, raw fear.
If I knew her expression would turn that exquisite, I would’ve come clean before.
After all, I was never ashamed of how I invaded my little Petal’s life.
She has always been mine to own, mine to break and to destroy.
Some would call this stalking, but I call it keeping an eye on her.
My little Petal has a problem with her sensory world. She often ignores the predators lurking all around her, waiting for the right moment to strike and harvest her soul.
Lucky for her, she has the most notorious of all. No one will hurt her under my watch —or rather, no one will come near her.
She said she doesn’t want to see me again and has been watching through the window most of the night, hugging the very unwilling orange cat to her chest.
In the morning, she had her locks changed.
My poor little Petal doesn’t know that the darkness can seep under that door and suffocate her in her sleep.
I could walk away and focus on the Costa game, play my role, and find more lives to finish.
This is my way out, and yet it isn’t.
The problem with my little Petal is that she thinks she can tell me what to do, that she can erase me from her life whenever she wishes.
It doesn’t work that way, and I have to find a way to drag her back inside, kicking, screaming, and hitting.
Doesn’t matter, as long as she’s back.
I retrieve a cigarette and light it as I lean against my balcony. The first drag of nicotine adds a sense of clarity to what I have to do next.
There isn’t a choice anyway. It’s either the boring road of letting her go, and probably coming back more obsessed and dangerous, or I can finish what I started and teach my little Petal that there’s no way out.
She has just left the apartment for her shift, looking over her shoulder, and in the parking lot, and even when she’s in her car, as if expecting to find me.
Her lips were parted, and she had no makeup on. The roundness of her eyes is still engraved in my head. The way they darkened like a storm brewing in the distance, waiting to come out and play.
It’s not only fear. It’s not the usual excitement either.
There’s something curious about those eyes that I can’t wait to unravel, to break, and maybe, just maybe put it back together again, if I like what I see.
I could’ve followed her and made myself either noticeable or unnoticeable, depending on my mood. I could’ve fucked with her head until I’m the only thought inside it.
But I have better ways to do that.
I leave my apartment and head to hers. My little Petal has closed her window and balcony. She even let the blinds down, disallowing me any view to the inside. I never thought I’d miss seeing those cats lazing around.
The only way to go inside is to break the window, but I have a better idea.
I reach under the fire extinguisher and smirk when my fingers touch the small piece of metal.
My little Petal is smart, but she’s a creature of fucking habit. She thinks because she never pulled her spare key in front of me, then I wouldn’t know where she hides it.
Sometimes, it’s so easy to read her mind. Others, it’s like a fucking chore.
The lock opens after I insert the new key.
The orange cat stands at the entrance like a little demon, glaring at me.
I swear he snuggles up to her more when I’m around, demanding she pets and caresses him.
He doesn’t hiss at me anymore, which is progress, but he’s still taunting me with his close relationship with her.
He’s at his first strike.
Fucking hell. I can’t believe I’m giving strikes to cats.
I stride into the silent apartment and the cat follows in a lazy walk.
Pulling out my gadgets, I carefully install the listening devices in her bedroom and living room.
These are tools Lucio uses for his frenemies, and they’re hardly detected even by professionals.
I place one in the lamp and the other behind the mirror.
Once I’m done, I stare at my image. I look normal, so fucking normal, it’s uncanny.
Actually, I’m above normal, with looks that always got me anywhere I wanted with women.
But
aren’t the normal ones the scariest?
If my little Petal had better self-preservation, she would’ve noticed that. But even if she did, would anything change? If she resisted me at first, would all of this have ended?
No, and no.
It would’ve only been uglier for her. I might be quiet, but I’m a fucking animal when I put my sights on something.
It’s never over until the prey is under my teeth, ripped to pieces.
And piece by piece, I collect them back together again.
Besides, I’m not entirely sure my little Petal didn’t sniff the darkness inside me. At times, when I’m fucking her, pulling her by the hair and using her body, she’d be dripping wet, staring at me with those stormy eyes like all this is otherworldly.
She’s an animal, too, in some way. She’s just either in denial about it or hides it so much better than everyone else.
Now, I need to know what she talks about or watches when she’s alone. If I know her better, I’ll fuck her over more efficiently.
All predators sample their prey before pouncing.
I sit on her bed and retrieve her laptop. She doesn’t use it often, but when she does, it’s in a dark room and she’d disappear with it under the covers.
She doesn’t do that with her books or Netflix, so there must be something here.
It takes me two tries to get the passcode. Her birthday was a miss, she’s not that predictable after all, but it’s her oldest cat’s name, Mrs. Hudson, the lazy one who’s always sleeping unless it’s time for food. My little Petal is predictable after all.
Her wallpaper is a picture of her two cats.
This fucking cat lady is incorrigible.
I go through her browsing history. Facebook, the hospital website, tons of articles and forums about cat care and cat owners sharing expertise, and some forums about Netflix shows.
It’s not until I reach the fifth page that my fingers stop at the cursor.
My, my.
I click on the link and it takes me straight to a porn site, and not any porn site —a paid one.
My little Petal can be unpredictable after all.
I know she owns a vibrator, but during the time I watched her, she barely masturbated if at all. If she did, she must’ve done it under the sheets and didn’t make a show of it.
The fact she’s paying a subscription to an edgy porn site is... interesting.
I go to her account and chuckle to myself when I see her username.
Mr. Bingley.
I stare at the cat who’s now sitting beside me. “You’re into some porn, boy?”
He huffs as he rests his paws in a sleeping position.
I go through her history and the titles she watched stop me in my tracks.
Being attacked, hard sex.
Rough with an attacker.
A woman enjoying rough.
Woman likes being degraded in a merciless way.
Woman enjoys being raped by attacker.
Choked and fucked.
Passionate rough sex.
Spanked and fucked.
Held down and fucked.
Tied down, choked, and fucked.
Woman used and enjoys it.
* * *
Those are the ones she favored and watched more than ten times. The same clip more than ten times.
I see the pattern without even having to go on.
My cock strains, but it’s not because of the pictures. I don’t even have interest in opening those videos, I don’t have to.
I knew my little Petal had some darker inkling; I’ve seen the storm in her eyes and felt the tremor in her body.
However, I didn’t think it went this deep or dark.
No wonder she doesn’t masturbate. No masturbation will bring her what she craves.
Being used, abused, held down and fucked until she no longer takes it.
Oh, and enjoying it.
Her toy can’t bring her that, but I can.
A smirk tugs on my lips as I exit the site, delete the recent history and close the laptop.
Here I was thinking I should hold back with her. She doesn’t need that, she needs something more potent and out of control.
After all, we’re both fucking animals, in one way or another.
When she returns tonight, a surprise will be waiting for her.
My little Petal won’t only have her every fantasy come true, but she’ll also develop new fantasies she never thought were possible.
18
Georgina
Coming home from work, I have a bad premonition of what's waiting on the other side of my door before I even unlock it.
As soon as I'm inside the apartment, I realize I was right.
Before I left for work, I'd replied to some emails on my laptop, and I left it on my desk where the cats couldn't get to it. But now, the laptop is on my coffee table in the living room, and Mr. Bingley's sitting on it.
I know for a fact I didn't leave it there, and my lips form a thin line as I double-lock the door after entering. He's been in here. I just know it.
It's late, and I'm exhausted. I don't want to worry about Jasper right now, and I'm in a delirious state as I lock all the doors and double-check to make sure all the windows are closed. Forcing myself not to think about Jasper, I feed and play with the cats before dragging myself into the bathroom.
I take a long, scalding hot shower and slip under the covers of my bed naked. The sheets feel silky soft against my skin, and I relish the feeling of them against my tired body. I don't allow myself to think about Jas at all. Instead, I focus on getting comfortable and letting my weariness take over.
Still, it takes me an hour of tossing and turning to finally fall into a dreamless sleep.
I don't know what wakes me up first, but when my eyes open, I become acutely aware of two things.
One, I can't move.
Two, there's someone else in my room.
I open my mouth to scream, but before a sound can escape my lips, a hand stuffs something in my mouth. It's silky and soft and lacy, and with horror, I realize they're my panties, scrunched up into a ball.
All of a sudden, I'm fully awake, my heart hammering in my chest as I look up at my hands. They're handcuffed to my bedposts by the wrists, and I can barely move them. I let out a cry.
The room is enveloped in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the streetlights outside. I already know this has something to do with Jas – it has his signature written all over it, and I had no doubt he'd try to fuck with my head again after our last disastrous encounter.
A dark figure appears before me. I recognize it as him from his black hoodie that is once again pulled over his head. He's holding something, and all I see is the glint of a smile as he walks up to me, raising his hand.
I shrink back, getting ready to scream, but my lips wrap around a ball instead.
Jas forces a ball gag into my mouth, tightening the buckle behind my head before I can utter a sound. My heart is pounding, waves of adrenaline rushing through my body. My mouth is already responding to the forced object inside it, and a dribble of saliva runs down my chin. I whimper as Jas' hand lingers on my cheek, comforting me without saying a word.
There are so many things I want to say to him, but he won't give me the chance. Instead, he moves his hand from my cheek down to my neck, squeezing and cutting off my breath. I choke and sputter, more spit dripping from my gagged mouth.
Suddenly, I remember the laptop.
Did he look at it? Did he see it? My shame? My filthiest fantasies, all of them saved in neatly organized order for my viewing pleasure. The thought that he's forced himself into my life this way, stolen even more of my secrets, pisses me off, and I thrash wildly against my handcuffs in a desperate attempt to get the hell away from him.
He reappears and gets on top of me, and when he pulls the duvet off my body, there's not an inch of my skin that remains hidden. Why on earth did I decide to sleep naked tonight? I let out a muffled groan
as Jas forcefully parts my legs. The moonlight reveals his face – he’s wearing a stoic mask, but the vision breaks apart when he smirks.
"I'm only giving you what you want, Petal," he tells me in a low growl before burying his head between my legs.
He sucks and licks me to the point my limbs start hitting the bed. I don't know whether I'm scrambling to get away from him, or to get more. His touch feels like fire, and my body wants to be licked by its flames.
"Don't tell me this isn't what you've been hoping for," he speaks up again from between my legs. "I've seen your browsing history, you dirty slut."
Instantly, my cheeks are aflame and Jas smirks, chuckling at my obvious discomfort. "Yes, Pet, I've seen it all. Every filthy little fantasy you've ever had, all spelled out for me. And then it fucking hit me."
He slaps my pussy without warning, hard enough to make me yelp and send shockwaves through my body. I hate how much I love it, and shame keeps burning me from the inside as Jas goes on.
"You want this, slut. You want to be used, degraded. You want a fucking stalker, don't you? You want someone to follow you in the dead of the night, but that's not enough, is it?"
I cry out as my mouth fills with more saliva, but he pays me no mind, continuing his monologue.
"You want your stalker to take you. To drag you into a dark alley and treat you like the filthy little slut you are."
He unbuckles his belt and hungry, muffled moans fill the air when he takes out his engorged cock. It takes me a moment to realize the moans are coming from me.
" I'm here to give you what you want, Pet. I'll always know your nos mean yes, please, more. Always fucking more."
Hot tears begin to spill from my eyes, and I shut them tightly. I tell myself I don't want this, but it's a lie – it's obvious from the way I'm responding. In a way, I'm thankful Jas has gagged me – otherwise I’m sure I'd embarrass myself further by begging for more.
He plunges his cock inside me in one long, fluid motion that makes me mewl out loud. Jasper doesn't make love; he fucks me like he hates me. Punishing punches of his cock inside me make me wide awake and, within the third thrust, I'm already moaning, trying to shape the word please as best as I can through my gag.
