by Anna Edwards
“My cunt. I’ll treat it the way I want. William, stick your dick in her mouth to shut her up,” West orders, but I’m going nowhere near the girl who’s now trying to escape from the clutches of my friend.
“Fuck off. She’ll bite it.”
“Well, hold her down, so I can rip her pussy in two.” He momentarily let’s go of the struggling feminine form and gets a whack to the face from her fist. He retaliates with his own, and I hear the crunch of the girl’s nose as it breaks. West flips her over and puts his whole weight on her. “Now, William, or do I need to tell your father you’re being a freak again. He’ll send you away this time – remember what he said about being sick of you showing him up. He’ll make sure you never see Nicholas again.”
Those final few words have me releasing my deflated cock and using my strength to hold the girl down, so she can’t struggle anymore. West pulls her ass up and without warning slides hard into her pussy as she screams out in pain, and I switch off. My mind goes to its place of serenity, and I don’t hear the cries or the pleas any longer. I’ll suffer later for treating my brain this way. I know I’ll meltdown, but for now I feel safe.
The gun going off brings me out of heaven. Blood splatters all over me, and the girl I’d been holding becomes a dead weight in my arms.
“Fucking cunt!” West exclaims, and I step backward. My hand goes to my nose and swipes across it, no doubt smearing blood and other matter across my face.“Bitch got herself pregnant. I’m not going to have some piece of trash like her lauding that over me for the rest of my life. Shame, she had a fucking magical pussy. Why don’t you try it? I know you like them barely breathing. She’ll still be nice and wet down there. I tore her up a bit. Lots of blood to ease the flow.”
I look down to his dick and see it’s covered in blood.
“Get out.” I feel my fists forming into balls. West just laughs.
“Oh, come on, William. Stop being a freak. You losing your hard-on isn’t my fault. It’s all that wrong wiring in your brain.” The laugh he expels is eerie, almost demonic in nature. People call me a freak, but the man in front of me has just fucked a woman and shot her in the head. In my fucking bed! “I best go tell your daddy about our little accident, hadn’t I? Do us a favor, get your dick wet as well. Makes you look more culpable.”
It’s then I realize this has been a ruse all along. It’s easier for my father to clear this mess up than it would be for West to do it himself. My father won’t have our name dragged through the mud, so he’ll get rid of the body without consequence for West or for me. Believing I’m the freak – the dangerous, dark monster who is capable of such atrocities. West leaves the room, and I’m alone with the dead girl. The way she’s fallen, I can see her pussy on display covered in blood mixed with West’s cum. I could do what they expect from me but I won’t. I’m not that sort of person.
“William?” My brother’s voice penetrates the foggy haze of my brain. “William, talk to me please?”
“Nicholas? What happened?”
“You had a meltdown. Victoria and I injected you with the sedative to calm you down. I didn’t want to do it, but I was so afraid you’d hurt yourself.”
I slowly open my eyes and allow my vision to acclimatize to where I am, which turns out to be my bedroom, and on my bed. I flinch, half expecting the bed to be covered in blood and with the body of a dead girl from what, I now realize. was a nightmare based on my memories.
“William?” Nicholas reaches out to touch me and ground me.
“I was back there.”
“Back where?” he questions with confusion etched on his brow.
“The night West murdered the girl in my bed.”
Nicholas exhales deeply and shuts his eyes.
“You did the right thing that night. You came and found me. Our father checked the DNA. There was none of yours inside her, only West’s. It was all him. Not you.”
“But…” I try to argue with him, but with an authoritative wave of his hand, he silences me.
“You’ve been too overstimulated the last few days. You need to rest. These memories are of a time in the past. Lord West will never have access to this house again, and you’re nothing like the monster he is. When I can finally bring him down, then another piece of the corrupt society our father kept will fall. William, you’re my brother. I love you dearly, and I will protect you always. Don’t fear the world. Embrace it and allow it to give you the life you deserve.”
My brother gets to his feet and straightens out his trousers. I can tell from the creases he’s been sitting by my bed for several hours.
“I’m going to check on Victoria, but I’ll be back up with some food. I’m the Duke, now, and I’m ordering you to rest for a few days. Away from that crazy outside world full of lights and sounds. God knows it drives me insane, most of the time. We’ll spend time just the four of us, trying to figure out how to get rid of West and Viscount Hamilton, so we can live our lives freely.”
My brother leaves the room, and I’m left alone in the silence, once again. I want to shut my eyes and sleep for longer, but I’m scared. I know I didn’t touch that girl the night she died, but I’m terrified if I fall asleep, the conclusion to the nightmare might change.
Chapter Twelve
Tamara
The words on the computer screen in front of me are starting to go blurry, I’ve been staring at them for so long. Line after line of contract law. During my time training, I’d learned a bit about each division of the law: statute, criminal, common, and civil, but it would’ve blown my mind to delve too deeply into all of them. So, when it had been time to specialize, I’d gone down the criminal law route. Little did I know it would come in handy in the future because my best friend was going to marry into a notoriously criminal society. My head hurts, and my hands are jittery from all the coffee I’ve been drinking, but I need to continue reading to see if there is any legal way of dissolving the society as it was, and leaving those opposed to Nicholas’ new rule financially ruined. Along with help from associates of Nicholas, I’ve applied for the assets to be frozen of two of the main culprits who refuse to toe the line: Lord West and Viscount Hamilton. I don’t expect that to stick for long, though. The police must have thought me insane when I presented them with some bullshit about them funding terrorists.
After I read the same paragraph for what must be the sixth time, I know I need to take a break, and I stand up from the desk I’m using in Nicholas’ office. The office was big enough for two extra desks, matching his and Victoria’s, to be brought in, and there is still sufficient space to perform a ‘jig’ if you are so inclined– I’m not. But maybe just a stretch or two. I arch my back, and bringing my arms up above my head, I stretch them before lowering them and shaking out my legs. Yawning, I debate getting another coffee, but I know I’ll never sleep if I have any more caffeine. I’ll be dancing off the ceiling. No, the best thing I can do is to call it a night, but something is drawing me back to the computer.
A couple of months ago, I took one of those swab DNA tests for the ancestry website everyone raved about. A friend of mine had done it at university and found out an old family tale about her having Indian blood was true, and in fact a quarter of her DNA originated from that continent. She was thrilled to have it confirmed. I already know from my mother’s side that my ancestry is African via my grandfather, who came to this country after World War One, and Anglo Saxon from my grandmother, whose family originated from Suffolk. By doing the test, I was really hoping to see if I could link into any relatives on my father’s side, which might give me an idea of who he is. My mother has never told me the story of my birth. It’s something I’ve always wondered about, but I can’t force her to tell me. Something happened to her, and I’m scared to find out what it was, but I need to know where I come from, and this is my only means, at the moment, to try and discover more.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. I had notification a few weeks ago the results were back, but I’v
e been too scared to look at them. Opening my eyes, I flick my mouse to bring up a new browser page and type in the website address. I log into my account and open up the tab labelled DNA, which instantly brings up my results. Twenty-five percent African, I expected that. I scroll further down, and my eyes flick over the rest of my genetic make-up.
“Tamara, what are you still doing up? It’s past midnight.” William strolls into the room. His eyes move to the computer screen and then up to me. I know I must have a guilty look on my face because his brows frown in the center. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I try to hide the tremble in my voice, but I know I fail.
“Tamara. Step away from the screen.”
“It’s nothing.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and then walking up to me, he lifts me up in the air. I bring the wireless mouse with me because my grip is so tight on it.
“DNA results, I did this once. I wanted to try and prove I wasn’t linked to my father. It didn’t work.” He shrugs and looks down. “Mmm…let me see, totally British apart from your grandfather.”
I nod, not able to form words. My heart is beating so fast. I’ve not even told Victoria I’m doing this. I know she wanted to do it at one time, but her father wouldn’t let her. I think she got Theodore to do it, instead, but I’m not sure.
“You’ve got a lot of Scottish in there as well. Wonder where from? Probably your father.”
William halts his train of thought.
“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean...”
“It’s ok.”
I scramble back to the computer and close the browser page.
“Wait, did you check your matches? It could give you an idea about who your father is.”
“No. William, please.”
He reaches out, takes the mouse from my hand, and lays it down on the table. Then placing his hand on top of the laptop, he shuts it down.
“Come with me.”
He holds out his hand. I look at it and back up at him, debating on whether to take it or not. I’m freaking out. I’ve just learned whoever my father is/was is most probably British. That’s more than I’ve known all my life. I need comfort, but the last time I took William’s hand, it led to him becoming so overstimulated that he broke down and near enough destroyed his room. I can’t let that happen again.
“I’m ok.” I keep my hands by my side.
“Ok.” He looks defeated and lowers his head. “I wasn’t going to…” Stopping, he turns away, and walks over to a cabinet in the corner of the room. He opens a drawer, pulls out a hip flask, and comes back over to me. “You had a shock. I was going to get you a drink. That’s all. I understand completely that you want to know where you come from. They say autism is hereditary, normally down the male line. I would love to know if my past ancestors had it. Maybe find out more about what makes me who I am.”
He unscrews the hip flask and gives it to me before turning and going back to the door.
“William,” I call out, guilt washing over me because he thinks I’m refusing to go with him in case he hurts me when in reality, I’m the one who’s inflicting the pain.
“You should get some sleep, it’s late. If you get too tired, you’ll be no good at reading through all that law stuff,” William replies.
He doesn’t turn back to face me but leaves the room with his hand flicking around his head. I look back at the computer. The answers to everything lie within it somewhere, but right now, I just need to sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
William
Turning over in my bed, I reach out for my phone, and through bleary eyes, I look at the time. Ten am. Urgh! I was supposed to help Nicholas in a meeting at nine. I guess he chose not to wake me. I should be grateful for small mercies since it was past two before I fell asleep. After speaking to Tamara, I needed something to clear my mind of the thoughts of failure, which I had running through it. It was then I remembered the app Nicholas had discovered and installed on my phone. A flag quiz. I spent the next two hours trying to beat my best scores from the previous times I’d played it, and needless to say, I did so with ease and fell asleep at two with a contented brain. Sadly, I’ve not woken with one though. Having still got the vision in my head of Tamara as she refused my hand, fearing I would hurt her again. All I wanted to do was comfort her with a stiff drink, but she thought I wanted more and was scared. Scared of me. I need to stay away from her. Give her time to realize…well, there is nothing to realize – I am a monster. She just needs to know I won’t hurt her. I’ll use the memory I have of her sweet velvety pussy for my needs, but I won’t ever abuse the real thing again.
Sliding from my bed, I pull on a pair of jogging bottoms that had been lying, discarded from a previous day, on my bedroom floor. I fumble sleepily into the bathroom, take a piss, and splash some water on my face. If I’m hiding out all day, I don’t need to be clean and presentable. Going back into my bedroom, I grab a t-shirt from a drawer and pull it on over my head.
I’ve got two choices now. Go in search of food, which is likely to be quicker, or order something to be brought up. My brother is currently running Oakfield Hall on skeleton staff while we sort out the issues with the society. Less chance of any underhand dealings being discovered that way. But I really don’t want to risk seeing Tamara, so my stomach is going to have to wait. I pick up the intercom phone and call down to the kitchen.
“My Lord, William,” the chef answers in a cheerful manner.
“Morning,” I try to reply with the same happiness. “I’m going to take my breakfast in my rooms today. Can you send it up, please?”
“Of course, anything in particular you’d like?”
“No, just the usual.”
I don’t know why the chef bothers to ask. I’ve eaten the same thing, now, for twenty years. Two Weetabix with full fat milk and a teaspoon of sugar, followed by two slices of white bread toast with strawberry jam, which mustn’t have any lumps in. I wash it all down with a glass of apple juice. No coffee, tea, fancy French pastries, or even sausage, bacon and eggs for me. Cereal, toast, and apple juice is all I need to start the day right.
“It could be a little while as the staff are busy with the Duke and his meeting. I’ll see if I can bring it up myself.” I can hear the chef start to juggle pans in the background. I know he’s busy as well, and I appreciate the kind gesture.
“No hurry. I’ll be in the playroom,” I inform him and hang up.
Before I leave my bedroom, I push my feet into a pair of warm woolen slippers. Oakfield Hall has an abundance of wooden and marble floors, costing a small fortune to heat. It’s often easier to wrap up warm in the colder months. I grab a sweater and slip it on over my head then leave my rooms and head down the corridor to the room Nicholas and I share. This place is our sanctuary, and only we’re allowed in it. It’s the place we came to as boys, whiling away the hours of boredom and monotony that came from being the sons of a Duke who wanted nothing to do with us until we were old enough to be useful. That happened at the age of ten for Nicholas, but it never happened for me. I was never of importance to my father. I was the spare, and a damaged one at that.
I push open the door to the room, and I’m immediately transported back to my childhood with visions of Nicholas and I running around playing cops and robbers. He was always the robber. Ironic really! When he became more involved in his duties as the future Duke, I discovered a love for Lego, and proudly displayed in the room, now, are many of the creations I made. I was obsessed with it and would sit for hours religiously following the instructions until I’d built what I was supposed to. I remember once there was a piece missing from a pack, and unable to cope with that, I started to have a meltdown. How could I complete what I was doing without that piece? I had to finish it. I’d started, and now it would remain forever incomplete. Nicholas found me sitting in a corner with my fists clenched tightly into little balls. He immediately broke apart a creation he’d made and found the piece I needed. The memory bri
ngs back happy thoughts for me, and I seek the model out in the row of my Star Wars builds. The Millennium Falcon sits proudly next to my Death Star and Sand Crawler. Like many boys, I went through a Star Wars phase. I guess, like most, I haven’t really stopped. I still have regular binge-watching marathons.
Completing these three massive projects was my greatest feat in life. The instructions sit beside the Falcon, and I know instantly how my day of hiding will be spent. I pick up the Falcon and the instructions and bring them over to some cushions laid out on the floor. Placing them both down, I begin the painstaking process of pulling the Millennium Falcon apart, so I can rebuild it, once again.
After several hours and a half-eaten breakfast followed up by a half-eaten ham sandwich for lunch, I’m halfway through the rebuilding of Hans Solo’s pride and joy. I’m just fixing one of the guns in place when I hear soft steps behind me. I wait a beat and turn my head around to see Tamara halfway across the room.
“Out!” I snap at her, and she flinches back but doesn’t stop. “You can’t be in here.”
“Nicholas gave me a note to say I could come in to talk to you.” Now standing in front of me, she bends down to place the note on the floor. “He said I’m forbidden to touch your Lego though.”
My eyes skim over the note, and I see Nicholas has even written that exact phrase down. I can’t help but snort out a laugh.
“He said something about girls not understanding the dynamics of what it takes to build these complex structures, and if I touch them, I’ll break them.”
I can’t help but let another chuckle escape at her comment. I can picture Nicholas saying those exact words with his arms folded sternly across his chest, and his brows furrowed together. I can also picture Victoria behind him rolling her eyes in frustration at her chauvinist husband.
