The Broken Trilogy

by Amy Cross

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, starting to get a little frustrated by his constant refusal to give a straight answer to a straight question.

  "It means you're worrying about nothing," he replies.

  "I know you want me," I say, pressing my crotch against him and feeling his erection. I want nothing more than to unzip his pants and let that big, hard penis slip into the open so I can pay it some proper attention. It's been so long since I tasted him in my mouth, since I felt him in my hand. I want him inside me. Reaching down, I brush the top of my hand against the front of his trousers. "Can't we just -"

  "I have visitors coming," he says suddenly.

  "You do?" I say, frowning. "Who? When?"

  "They'll be here at nine," he replies. "We don't have time to do anything right now".

  "We have two hours," I point out.

  "That's almost no time at all. Let's just wait until the afternoon, okay? I promise you, I'll have these panties off you straight after lunch. Is that a deal?" He reaches down and gently presses the tips of his fingers against the front of my underwear, exerting a very faint pressure on the spot just above my clitoris. From the look in his eyes, I can tell that he knows exactly what he's doing. Mark's a very, very skilled operator and it seems as if he's trying to frustrate me. "It'll be good," he says quietly. "I promise".

  "I know," I say, pushing a little closer in an attempt to get him to increase the pressure on my crotch. Instead, he pulls his hand away.

  "Later," he whispers.

  "Now," I say, reaching up and cupping my breasts together. I part the fingers, to let my erect nipples show through. "Let's have a quick one. We always have long, marathon sessions, but let's just go quick and hard. It doesn't always have to be romantic. Just once, don't you want to throw me down onto the bed and get it over with as fast as possible?"

  "Later," he says again.

  "Maybe I won't want to later," I reply. "Maybe I won't be wet later".

  He stares at me for a moment. "Elly, this isn't a game -"

  "Yes it is," I say, smiling. "That's exactly what it is, remember? You told me all about it. The whole damn thing is a game. You can't just pick and choose".

  "Sometimes -"

  "The game's the game," I say firmly. "What's wrong? Don't you want to play anymore?"

  He stares at me for a moment. I'm not sure what he's thinking, or what he's going to say next, but we're interrupting as the doorbell rings.

  "They're here," he says, getting to his feet and hurrying to the mirror, where he proceeds to check his hair. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that Mark is actually nervous. Granted, I don't know him that well, but it's still strange to see that he seems not to be in total control of this situation. "You really need to put some clothes on," he says, glancing over at me. "There's a time and a place for everything, Elly, and right now you need to be clothed. I might need you to... Just wait in the bedroom, okay?"

  I open my mouth to argue with him, but then I realize: what's the point? He's obviously made his decision, and I don't feel sufficiently comfortable to turn this into a 'scene'. I guess I should just slink back to the bedroom like a dutiful little girlfriend and wait for my master to come through and have his way with me.

  "Fine," I say, turning and marching back to the other end of the apartment. Grabbing my clothes from the floor, I start getting dressed as I hear Mark greeting his visitors. I don't pay any attention to what they're talking about; to be honest, I'm a little pissed off at the whole situation. Once I've got my clothes on, I realize that there's no way I can just sit through here like an obedient, mindless idiot. If Mark doesn't want to hang out right now, I'll just go somewhere else.

  "I'm sure you'll understand the need to cover every angle," a man is saying as I walk back through to the front room.

  "Elly," Mark says, clearly annoyed that I've shown myself. "I thought you were -"

  "I'm going out," I reply, aware that even this simple act might be interpreted as a transgression.

  "No," Mark continues, seeming slightly shaken. "Maybe you should stay". He turns to the man and woman who are standing nearby. "Elly, these are police officers. They're here to ask me about something quite important".

  Jonathan Pope

  1901

  She sleeps soundly, yet I'm quite certain that the pain and fear will return when she wakes. After we came to bed, she sobbed for hours, and I was unable to comfort her. She spoke incessantly of the child, clutching her belly and asking me how we could possibly save this precious life from the grip of the game. She told me that she had been considering suicide before she learned of her pregnancy, and that she was almost ready to take her own life when she realized that there was a second life forming in her body. Now she feels trapped, desperate to carry the child but terrified of what might happen once it has been born.

  For so long, I have sensed... something in the back of my mind, troubling me. I'm not one who's given to flights of fancy, but I can't help wondering whether in some way I might have sensed the conception of this child. Sitting here all night, staring into the darkness, I find my mind filled with so many strange ideas.

  Now, as the first rays of dawn begin to reach the edges of the window panes, I'm forced to face the very real possibility that we might be unable to escape the game's clutches. For years, I've bided my time, confident that eventually I would develop an exit strategy for the pair of us; now that there is a child, however, I feel as if my options are running out. It's simply impossible to conceive of a way to extricate the pair of us from this situation. Henrietta is a well-known figure in London society, and she cannot simply run away with a commoner such as myself. At the same time, there are dark forces circling us, preparing to tear us apart, and I fear that these forces have greater resources than we can possibly imagine.

  There is only one solution.

  I must sacrifice myself.

  Taking a deep breath, I realize that this is my only option. Perhaps if I throw myself at the forces, they will stop long enough to let Henrietta escape. If she has money and friends, she should be able to slip out of the country, and then she can make her way to a new home in another country. It's a desperate gambit, and one that will not bring us happiness, but our priority must be the child. We simply cannot allow this baby to be born into the clutches of the game.

  "My husband will be home soon," Henrietta says suddenly, not turning to look at me.

  "I didn't know you were awake," I reply.

  "I haven't slept all night". She rolls onto her back. Her belly is not yet swollen from pregnancy, but it is only a matter of time before she begins to show.

  "We must get out of here," I say. "I've been trying to formulate a plan, and I've come up with nothing. We must simply run. I don't know where we'll go, but when they eventually catch up to us, I'll turn and fight them while you keep going. Perhaps you can find somewhere that's out of their reach. Surely the game can be defeated in some way, even if the cost is great?"

  "I fear not," she replies. "The game is everywhere. My dear Jonathan, we could not even make it ten yards from the front door without someone seeing us and reporting back to those who are in charge. The game moves in mysterious ways, but it can't be deceived. I'm quite certain that it already knows about the terrible thing that grows inside my body, and all our exits are surely blocked by now".

  "That's no reason to give up," I say. "They want us to surrender, but we're going to run. There are three of us now, Henrietta. Whatever happens to the pair of us, we must protect the child".

  "Mr. White will -"

  "I don't give a damn about Mr. White!" I say firmly, sitting up and looking over at the window. "Let him come and try to stop us. I'd be glad of the opportunity to snap that bastard's neck. It'd be a good move for the country, too. Parliament is already full of enough rogues, they don't need the likes of Harrison Blake adding more fuel to the fire".

  Henrietta smiles, but she clearly isn't taking me seriously. It's so strange to see the way he
r mood has changed since she revealed the news of her pregnancy; it's almost as if she's become an entirely different person. Perhaps I'm allowing my imagination to run away with me, but I can't help thinking that her skin looks more luminous, and that her eyes are dazzling with an intensity that I've never seen before. It's hard to believe that there was once a time when I believed this woman to be the embodiment of pure evil.

  "I think we should focus on the child," she says calmly. "After all, you and I have made such messes of our lives, Jonathan. The child is pure and new, with no evil in its heart whatsoever. If we can get the child to safety, far from the clutches of the game, we can at least die knowing that a new life has a chance. If the child is consumed by the game, I can't begin to imagine its fate. The poor thing will be raised with the game's twisted logic seared into its soul".

  "You'll have to leave your husband," I say.

  She nods.

  "You'll have to leave your entire life behind".

  She nods again.

  "We'll have to take on new names. I have contacts who can help us get as far as continental Europe, and then perhaps we can make our way east. I find it hard to believe that the game could follow us so far. It'll be just the two of us, and eventually the child. It won't be an easy life, but at least we'll be together. If we're successful, the child can grow up without ever knowing about the game".

  "They'll never stop searching for us," she replies. "No matter how long we survive, we'll have to be careful every day for the rest of our lives. The game will demand revenge. Its agents will seek us out. We should ensure that the child is separated from us. At least that way, the game won't know who to hurt once it's finished with us". She pauses for a moment. "Be in no doubt, Jonathan. The game will hurt us. It'll reach out and snap our neck at the first opportunity it gets, and it'll show no sympathy for a child".

  "The game is an idea," I say, trying to calm her spirit. "It's a set of rules. It's not a living, breathing thing".

  Reaching out and brushing her fingers against the side of my face, she smiles sadly. "One day, you'll understand," she says, with tears in her eyes. "One day, you'll see the true horror of the game before your eyes, and you'll understand why it can never be defeated".

  Elly

  Today

  "So you didn't speak to Ms. Briggs after that night at the restaurant?" Detective Stone asks, staring down at his notebook for a moment. "You broke up following the argument, and she stormed off. After that, you exchanged a few text messages over the following twenty-four hours, but you didn't see her again". He looks over at Mark. "Is that correct?"

  "That's correct," Mark says calmly. "I know it might seem that I acted in a heartless manner, but the truth is, I already knew before the argument that Chrissie and I weren't going to work. I was looking for a way out and, when it came, I grabbed it with both hands". He glances over at me. "To be honest, by that point I was already falling for someone else".

  Looking down at my feet, I can't help feeling that I'm starting to blush. My earlier cockiness has been replaced by a sense of dread. It turns out that Mark's old girlfriend, Christine Briggs, has been missing for quite a while, and the police are assuming she's dead. They don't seem to have anything to link her death to Mark, but at the same time they seem very suspicious of him. I get the impression that he's suspected of involvement in whatever happened to her. Of course, that's completely ridiculous. I keep telling myself over and over again that there's no way Mark would ever be mixed up in someone's death. It's just impossible.

  "And what was the argument about?" Detective Stone asks.

  "Money," Mark replies. "Chrissie wanted me to invest in her business plans, but I declined. She got very upset and accused me of not supporting her dreams". He pauses for a moment. "I wasn't supporting her dreams, of course. The truth is, I'd just have been throwing good money after bad. The whole thing was a waste of time, and my biggest regret is that I didn't end it sooner. I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but Chrissie was very... troublesome. She caused problems. She was loud and grasping. I don't really know why I was with her. I prefer more refined, more intelligent women". He glances at me again.

  "Do you have a lot of girlfriends?" asks the other police officer, a woman in her mid-twenties.

  "No," Mark says quickly.

  "How many do you have each year?"

  Mark visibly bristles at the question. "Is that really relevant?"

  "How long were you dating Ms. Briggs?"

  "A couple of months".

  "Is that about standard for you?" There's an awkward pause. "Do you tend not to have long relationships, Mr. Douglas?" she continues. "Do you tend to have brief flings?" She looks over at me. "Do you mind if I ask how long the two of you have been together?"

  "Not long," I say, although I immediately wonder whether I've spoken out of turn.

  "I met Elly while I was still, technically, dating Ms. Briggs," Mark explains, "but to be honest, I was immediately won over by Elly's personality. I know there's a cliche about successful men liking to dangle young women from their arms, but I can assure you that I'm not a cliche. I don't move from one woman to the next. I even persevered with Ms. Briggs, far beyond the point at which most men would have given up. She was a very abrasive kind of person, and personally I found her to be antagonistic. The good times were most certainly counter-balanced by the bad times, and my biggest regret is that I didn't end things sooner".

  "So you have no idea where she might be," Detective Stone says after a moment.

  "I'm afraid not".

  "And you, Ms. Bradshaw. Do you have any information that might help us to locate the missing woman?"

  "No," I say.

  "You never met her?"

  "Not really. I saw her once, outside a restaurant".

  Looking down at his notebook once again, Detective Stone seems to be checking some details. "I understand you were involved in a car accident earlier this year, Mr. Douglas," he says after a moment. "You crashed at high speed. From the accident report, it seems you were lucky to walk away with only a few minor scratches".

  "It was a good car," Mark replies. "Very safe".

  "Still," Detective Stone continues, "it's not every day that most of us trash an expensive sports car. Did you manage to get it repaired?"

  "I'm afraid it was written off," Mark says, clearly not enjoying this line of questioning.

  "Huh," Detective Stone replies. "And the cause of the accident was..." He checks his notes again. "Undetermined?"

  "Driver error," Mark says. "I simply made a mistake".

  "You were speeding".

  "I believe I was above the limit, yes. I'm afraid that once one has driven on the Autobahn in Germany, one finds it hard to go back to the provincial speed limits of a city such as London".

  "And you were alone?" Detective Stone asks, glancing at me.

  "Yes," Mark says.

  Looking over at Mark, I see that there's not a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He's very good at lying. The truth is, I was with him when that car crashed. Frankly, I still suffer occasional nightmares about the moment when the vehicle flipped and scraped upside down along the road. Mark's explanation for the accident clearly isn't very convincing, but hopefully the police will just assume that it was nothing to worry about. The last thing I want is for them to start digging around and maybe discover that I was there.

  "Are you an angry man, Mr. Douglas?" the female officer asks after a moment. "Do you have a temper?"

  "Not particularly," Mark replies.

  "But you get angry," she continues. "You must get angry, Mr. Douglas. Isn't that so?"

  "Like any man," he says.

  "And that's when you crash cars?"

  "No".

  "So how do you let your anger out?"

  "Boxing," he says, not missing a beat. "Exercise. I find that it removes the need for other outlets. A good session in the gym is usually all it takes to ensure that I'm able to re-focus on my work".

  The femal
e officer smiles, but I get the feeling that she doesn't quite believe him. In fact, I get the feeling that they both think Mark has more to do with Chrissie Briggs' death than he's admitting. They seem to be circling him endlessly, feeding him a series of innocuous questions and hoping that eventually he'll slip up. So far, Mark is doing incredibly well, but I can't shake the feeling that perhaps he's hiding something. I want to say that I have total faith in Mark and that I know he has nothing to hide, but there's a part of me that wonders if maybe there's something going on that I haven't been told about. It's not that I think Mark would have actually killed Chrissie or anything like that; it's more that I keep thinking that maybe he lured her into the game, and maybe her disappearance is something to do with the way the game works.

  "I think we have what we need for now," Detective Stone says eventually. "You're not planning to leave the country any time soon, are you?"

  "I have a business meeting in Hong Kong on the thirtieth," Mark replies. "I'll be away for a couple of days, no more".

  "That's fine," the female officer says. "We're still at an early stage in our investigations, but we'll probably want to speak to you again at some point. You're free to go to Hong Kong, of course, but we'll be in touch when you get back".

  Once the two police officers have left, Mark seems distracted; it's as if he's lost in thought, and I don't know how to break down the barrier that seems to have been erected between us. When I left my mother's house and came to live with Mark, I've barely had time to think about how things used to be; suddenly, I find that I'm forced to consider my choices, and I'm starting to wonder whether I should have been more cautious. After all, I know very little about Mark, and I guess there's a chance that I've waded into something I don't fully understand. Looking at him now, I find myself wondering if I might be in more danger than I'd realized.

  "Follow me," Mark says, walking quickly through to the bedroom.

  "What's wrong?" I ask, hurrying after him. There's a part of me that feels repulsed by the way I've become so easily led. I always thought of myself as strong and independent, yet right now I'm hanging on Mark's every word. It's as if I've given over control of my entire life to this man.