The Hurricane

by R. J. Prescott

  When the magic happened, it was so fast that I almost missed it. So did everyone else. The jabs to the face were to make Calvari raise his guard and expose his core. With all of his power, the Hurricane delivered a bone shattering right hook to the body. As Calvari dropped his guard in shock, O’Connell was already there with a second right hook that knocked the Destroyer out cold. His hands dropped weightlessly to his side and the bell rang out loud and clear as Calvari’s jaw slapped painfully against the canvas. The whole round had been a ploy to convince him to relax in the dying seconds. The strategy was perfect, and by the end of the first round of the biggest fight of O’Connell’s career, he was the winner by knockout.

  Danny closed his eyes in silent prayer as the entire arena exploded. People were overrunning the ring to get to O’Connell. Grown men were hollering and backslapping each other in the aisles, and I breathed for the first time in three minutes. As was becoming tradition, Danny climbed down and made his way over to me as I collapsed back in my seat. He plonked himself down on the seat next to me that had emptied, and with tears in his eyes, reached over to grip my hand in his own.

  “He did it, sunshine. He bloody did it.”

  I’d never heard Danny so emotional, and I wished O’Connell could see how proud he was of him.

  “He didn’t do it alone,” I reminded him.

  “No, he didn’t.” He grinned and squeezed my hand.

  Giving in to the emotion of the moment, I leaned across and hugged him. For the first time, without a hint of surliness or sarcasm, he hugged me back. Sniffing a bit as he pulled away, he kissed me on the cheek, got up, and left.

  I was desperate to see O’Connell, but he was still caught up in the crowd. I hugged Nikki and all of the guys when I felt someone behind me.

  “Got one of those for me, Mrs. O’Connell?”

  Grinning his cocky grin, sweat dripping down that perfect inked up body, my husband stood before me in all his glory. Without thinking, I jumped on him and held the sides of his face as I kissed him like I hadn’t seen him in a month. Slipping his tongue into my mouth, he used one arm to hoist me up higher and wrapped my legs around his waist. He was so hungry he could devour me, and I knew that he still had eleven rounds left inside him. His thick fingers bound by the wraps speared themselves into my hair as he pressed me closer. We were both short of breath when the kiss ended, and he rested his forehead against mine.

  “I wanna fuck you in the middle of the ring,” he murmured to me. I could feel his strong heart pulse inside his powerful chest.

  “Do you think you can wait until we don’t have an audience? That might be a little more entertainment than these people paid for.”

  “Well, at least I’d make it last more than one round.” He grinned.

  “I certainly hope so.” I smiled, kissing him again.

  The arena was full of people, but we were all alone as I poured everything into that kiss, showing him exactly how I felt about him. Without warning, two arms wrap themselves around us and wet lips landed on my cheek.

  “Happy, Kier?” I asked him.

  “Absolutely fucking ecstatic.” He grinned, and his euphoria was infectious.

  There was magic in the air, and it was going to take everyone a long time to come down from this high. It wasn’t just that he’d won; it was the way he did it.

  “This is it, my friend! It’s the big leagues now,” Kieran screamed, jumping up and down with us still in his arms.

  The place was still packed, as though nobody could believe it was all over. Danny caught my eye and pointed like he wanted me to grab Kier’s attention. Following my gaze, Danny gave him some weird hand signals and Kieran nodded.

  “He’s telling me he’s got more sponsors on the hook. Come on, fucker, time to show them what to do with their money,” he said, backslapping O’Connell.

  He bent his head to whisper in my ear so that Kieran couldn’t hear us.

  “Two weeks, baby girl. Two weeks of no sex. Wait for me in my changing room, ‘cause as soon as I get done with these sponsors I’m taking you long and hard in that shower, and I don’t give a fuck who hears us.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I sighed, as though getting fucked by my husband was any hardship. I knew from experience that I’d be waiting a while. With how the fight went down, there were probably loads of sponsors waiting to talk with him. O’Connell bent his head and with shaking fingers, I refastened the chain around his neck.

  “I love you, Mrs. O’Connell,” he whispered in my ear, before kissing me gently on the lips. I didn’t know why, perhaps it was the emotion of the moment, but it brought tears to my eyes.

  “Love you, too, O’Connell.”

  “Kier, can you show her where the changing room is and make sure she gets there safely? I’ll keep the sponsors happy till you get back and do your thing.”

  “No problem.” Kier grinned.

  He looked so happy, and I knew he’d worked just as hard as Danny to get his best friend to this point. O’Connell disappeared into the crowd, and Kieran looped his arm around my neck to guide me to the changing rooms.

  “What about the guys?” I asked him.

  “Hey,” Kier called out, “you lot fancy meeting us at Murphy’s in an hour? Con wants some alone time with his girl before the party,” he said suggestively, as I turned bright red.

  He’d basically just announced to all of our friends that I was having sex before I met up with them.

  “Sounds good,” shouted Albie. “See you there.”

  I didn’t get a chance to chat with Nikki before Kier pulled me away, keen to get back to the sponsors, I guessed. My earlier sense of unease had returned, and I figured that I’d be feeling that way, at least until the next fight was over.

  “Why’s there no security?” I asked as we approached the main door to the back of the arena. Last time, there’d been a beefy guard outside.

  “I guess they only hang around until the fight is over. People lost a fair bit of money betting against Con tonight, so they’re probably pretty busy breaking up a few fights of their own.”

  “Fucking smug, the pair of you, ain’tcha?” Sylvia was absolutely plastered as she slurred and staggered toward us.

  “I fucking birthed that boy, dragged him up and fed him. I deserve a cut of his pay now,” she screamed.

  “Fuck off, Sylvia. You did fuck all for Con from the day he was born. You know what he said. He’s done. You ain’t getting another penny out of him.”

  “You’re such a cocky little shit. Always whispering in his ear and turnin’ him against me. Well, you ain’t doin’ it this time. If he won’t listen to me, then I’m having a word with them sponsors.”

  She staggered off as Kieran muttered a “Fuck,” his earlier excitement gone.

  “I’m gonna have to get her out of here before she fucks things up with his sponsors. You okay to go ahead on your own? Just go straight down the corridor to the end, then turn left and it’s the red door with the number seven on it.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “Just go,” I urged him, and he disappeared after Sylvia.

  The corridors were empty and slightly creepy as they echoed dully with the noise of the crowd. The chilled, windowless space was a complete contrast to the heat of the arena, and I hurried to find the right changing room, knowing that I’d find one of O’Connell’s big thick hoodies in his changing bag. The door was indistinguishable from all of the others, save for the number. It opened easily, and I wondered, as it shut behind me, why the boys didn’t worry about people letting themselves in and nicking their stuff.

  “Hello, Emily. It’s been a long time.”

  I swung around to find the object of my nightmares standing between me and my only exit. I opened my mouth to scream, but I never got the chance. Raising up his fist, Frank punched me hard in the face, smacking me into the wall, and everything went black.

  WHEN I CAME TO, I quickly wished I hadn’t. Thick nylon rope bound my hands a
nd feet to the bars of a dirty, metal framed bed. I had no idea where I was, but the tiny room was filthy. Dark and moth-eaten curtains blocked out most of the natural light. My mouth was as dry as sandpaper and the left side of my face hurt so much that I couldn’t lay on it. Frank always did prefer the left. He’d fractured the same cheek last time. A few doors opened and closed close by, and my heart pounded, fearing what I knew was coming. I couldn’t believe that I’d let my guard down. How stupid was I to think that he’d ever stop looking for me?

  The door opened, and there stood the vile, perverted man who haunted me.

  “Awake at last.” He grinned maliciously.

  “Why are you here?” I croaked at him, my voice rusty from thirst and disuse.

  “I’ve come to take you back, of course. You’ve drifted off the rails somewhat. But with a bit of discipline, there’s no reason why we can’t all be a family again. In fact, seeing how you’ve been living, it’s fair to say I’ve come to save you from yourself.”

  He was delusional if he thought I was ever going back with him. At the first sign of life, I was going scream as loud as I could. My eyes darted around the room, and I guessed that we were in a flat of some sort. I contemplated screaming now, but if no one heard, I couldn’t risk Frank gagging me.

  “I can see what you’re thinking, princess, but let me give you a little warning.”

  He reached down the back of his trousers and pulled out a knife. I recognised it instantly as his fishing knife. Although he’d never used it on me, he’d threatened me with it plenty of times. It was ridiculously big for a fishing knife and looked new. He liked to keep it sharp and shiny, although rusty and covered in blood would have equally terrified me. Walking over to me, he took his time looking me up and down. Not in a sexual way, but in the way a butcher might eye a piece of meat as he worked out the best place to make a cut. Sitting down next to me on the cot, I squirmed against my bindings as I tried to move as far away from him as possible. He chuckled at my fruitless efforts and stopped me, stock still, when he used the tip of the knife to push up my top and expose my midriff. When I woke up tied to the bed, my first worry was rape. Now, my fear ran much deeper. Lifting up his left hand, he ran his fingertips across my ribs and belly.

  “Such beautiful skin,” he mumbled, under his breath.

  Then, with a sigh of almost remorse, he pierced the skin with the blade of the knife and ran it across my torso. I cried out hopelessly, as blood pooled around the cut. I thought it was quite shallow, but it was long, and hurt like you wouldn’t believe.

  “Now, it’s a shame to cut that lovely skin, but I’m used to teaching you lessons you don’t want to learn. So, you scream as long and as loud as you like, but I cut with every scream. The longer and louder the scream, the deeper and longer the cut. Now, let’s see who quits first.”

  He smiled that knowingly smug look of a man who’d gotten his way. I wouldn’t scream unless I knew it would save me. My only objective at this point was to make it back to O’Connell. Whether I was battered, bruised, or raped, I needed to stay alive. That wouldn’t happen if I baited Frank. He was obsessed with control, and when that control was challenged or taken away from him, it sent him over the edge.

  “I won’t scream,” I reassured him.

  He sat back, relaxing his shoulders. “Of course, you won’t.” Standing back up, he placed the knife on the bedside table, unbuttoned his sleeves, and began rolling them up. Sitting back down again, he picked up the knife and after wiping the blood stained blade on my jeans to clean it, ran the tip up and down the inside of my forearm, perilously close to my wrist. The subtle threat wasn’t lost on me.

  “If you’re taking me home, why are we here?” I asked croakily, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

  “Impatient, are you?” He chuckled.

  I’d never really seen this side of Frank. His violent temper usually manifested itself in quick, angry beatings, and screaming insults, usually about what a useless slut he thought I was. This cold, calculating stranger had the luxury of time and privacy, and he was enjoying it. Personally, I’d have preferred a beating to one of his cosy chats. I kept my mouth shut, knowing his question was rhetorical.

  “Before we leave, I need to be sure you won’t run again. Then we have a few loose ends to tie up so that bunch of lowlifes don’t follow you,” he explained.

  I swallowed as I stupidly pointed out the obvious. “I’m twenty now, Frank. I can’t stay at home forever.”

  Dropping the knife with lightning speed, he punched me in the ribs so hard I swore I heard one crack.

  “You’ll leave me when I say you can leave,” he screamed, his spit raining down on my face. I wheezed and pulled against my bindings as I fought to pull the air into my damaged body.

  “You know I just can’t work out whether you’re too fucking stupid to learn or you like taking a beating.”

  I couldn’t answer him, even if I wanted to. I could barely breathe, let alone talk. He looked down at me with a kind of morbid curiosity as he assessed his handiwork. If I looked how I felt, I guessed that my body must be a mess of bruises and dried blood. Placing the knife down again, he wrenched my wedding and engagement rings from my finger.

  I cried out, though it sounded little more than a whimper, as he stole my only connection to O’Connell.

  “You won’t be needing these anymore. I’ve had the paperwork applying for your annulment since before you were stupid enough to get married.”

  With that little parting gift, he left me to wallow in a pool of my own blood.

  I HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I was bound in that room. It could have been hours, it could have been days. I think I wet myself a couple of times, though I was so out of it I couldn’t really be sure. The whole room stank to high heaven so I probably fitted right in. Either Frank had drugged me or he’d hit me a LOT harder than I thought. I’d taken enough beatings to know that this didn’t feel normal. The periods between consciousness, though, were blissful. My mind ran hazily through memories of O’Connell and our time together. Before when I’d been beaten, I’d never had any of this. O’Connell had given me so many happy moments and a safe place in my mind to hide. He would never know how thankful I was for that. Frank could do whatever he wanted to my body, but he’d never be able to take that away. His increasing sense of desperation during the times I was awake told me that he knew it, too. When I next opened my eyes, beams of light shone through the moth ball holes in the curtains, and I figured it must be morning.

  “I said wake up, bitch,” Franked shouted, kicking me hard with his boot in my thigh. I whimpered but opened my eyes to face him. If he stopped hitting me, I’d probably stop passing out. He paced up and down the room with his hands in his hair. Gone was the cool demeanour of a man unhurried, and in its place was a desperate, unhinged psychopath. I guessed that something happened to set him off. He was losing control again.

  “Tell me you’re not going to leave again,” he told me, still pacing.

  “I promise I won’t leave again,” I wheezed flatly and without meaning. Yep, that rib was definitely broken.

  “I’ll fucking gut him if you do. You know that, right?” he asked, menacingly.

  “I know,” I answered.

  I wasn’t worried about O’Connell. He’d never get near the man I loved because I was putting a knife in Frank’s back the minute I got free. I didn’t care about going to prison. It was a price I’d happily pay to keep O’Connell safe.

  “There isn’t enough time. I wanted more time than this,” Frank mumbled under his breath. I didn’t know what had upset him, but I was glad for it.

  He sat back down next to me again and stared at my body. Without warning, he leant over and cupped me roughly between the legs and bit down hard on my bra covered nipple. It was so painful, and so invasive, that I cried out, which hurt my chest. I willed myself to pass out. If this sick fuck was going to rape me, then I didn’t want to remember a minute of it. Gripping my jaw roughly in hi
s hand, he looked me straight in the eye.

  “We’re finishing this when we get home,” he promised.

  “FUCK. YOU,” I enunciated slowly.

  Expecting another blow, it never came. He seemed a little less frantic, though. Maybe contemplating all the ways he was going to punish me later had calmed him down.

  “You’ve changed,” he pointed out, before leaning over and whispering in my ear. “You have no idea how many different ways I’m going to break you until you learn to do what I say, when I say it.”

  “If you think you’re turning me into my mother, you’ve got another thing coming, you sick fuck,” I wheezed but stood my ground.

  If I were smart, I would have shut the fuck up. Instead, I paid for my stupidity. He didn’t hit or molest me again. He just laid his palm on my chest and pressed down. My broken rib screamed in protest.

  “All you bitches are the same,” he taunted. “It’s just a case of learning how to tame you.”

  I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. The pain was too excruciating to hold on anymore. With what little clarity I had left, I imagined that I was lying in O’Connell’s arms and closed my eyes. It was only as I hovered on the precipice of consciousness, that I could almost smell him and believe that he was really here.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Frank laughed, throwing water in my face. “You don’t get to pass out on me yet. We’ve got work to do before we blow this shit hole.”

  Despair and pain made me want to sob, but I refused to give Frank that last victory.

  “Even if I never make it out of here, you’re still going to prison. The police have my statement and the rape kit.”

  If I died in this hell hole, my parting shot would be to remind him he was looking at a lifetime in prison. By this stage, I was pretty convinced that he was never going to let me live long enough to see O’Connell again, anyway, so I had nothing left to lose.

  “I’m not going to prison, princess. All sorts of things can happen before a rape trial, and this country is all about innocent until proven guilty. You were just an out-of-control kid, and I am the upstanding member of society who did his best to father you through some troubled times.” He relayed his ridiculous story with maniacal grandeur, and I could do little more than grunt at him.