Havoc

by Pamela Ann

  “What?” Doug growled.

  Why was he so angry? I wondered in my hazy brain.

  “Alan wants to see you. Said the money’s short.” The guy who was talking wasn’t Hunter, but someone else I didn’t recognize. He might be one of the men I had met yesterday, but I had barely paid attention.

  “Fuck!” Doug muttered as I heard his zipper being pulled up, getting ready to leave the bedroom.

  There were footsteps about, and as I heard the door being shut, I listened as their heavy, thudding steps became smaller until I couldn’t hear them anymore.

  I think about fifteen to twenty minutes had passed when I heard footsteps again. The thought of moving my arms and reaching for the comforter to cover my body seemed like such a hard task to accomplish, so instead, I stayed put, hoping to pass the day feeling good.

  My curiosity was piqued when I heard the footsteps stop outside my door. As the door creaked open, I barely lifted my eyelids enough to see Hunter had just entered our bedroom.

  Chapter 8

  It was normal to panic, but in this instance, I wasn’t feeling anything at all. In fact, I watched him with my half-closed lids, curious as to what had brought him here.

  Hunter, the couple of times I had seen him, had never failed to deliver that bone-chilling feeling, however right then, as I watched him, he simply looked like a man in lust, coveting my spread-eagled body like I had never seen him do before.

  “Heard your man had to drug you up so he could fuck you.” He stopped at the side of the bed, his eyes heatedly staring at my breasts before trailing them off towards my nether region. “What kind of a sick bastard would do that?”

  I simple groaned in response, not coherent enough to speak. Besides, I couldn’t care less about what he was asking.

  His eyes remained on my body. Assessing. Admiring. Craving. Then he slowly, gently sat to my side, his face looking down on mine. I felt the back of his hand softly brush against my cheek. Up and down it went, stroking the softness of my skin.

  “I know an innocent when I see one,” he said. “This life isn’t for you. Don’t get hooked or you won’t ever get out.”

  He thinks I choose to be here? Lies. Everything Doug had told them were lies.

  Soft breaths escaped my lips when I felt his hand glide downwards, towards my neck. Slowly it caressed me, trailing across my chest, reaching towards the valley of my breasts. My breathing hitched when he dared lower, across my abdomen, as he intensely watched my chest rise up and down.

  When his hand reached the top slit of my pussy, he stopped, his eyes still glued to mine. “You want to come, beautiful girl?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, just enough for him to hear me.

  With that reply, Hunter used his fingers on me, in me, making my body quiver in pleasurable waves I had never experienced before. With Doug, he only sought his own pleasure when he used me; he had never strung my body along this way. With Hunter showing me what it could feel like, this good, I knew I was hooked.

  “I’ll be back for you,” he whispered into my ear as I went in and out of consciousness from too much sexual exertion.

  +++

  Waking up felt like death. My head felt like it was about to explode soon. My body felt like it had smashed into something. This is bad. Really fucking bad.

  Rubbing my temples, I slowly rolled out of bed and sat up, gradually fluttering my lids open. I was surprised to see I was back in Doug’s room in Seattle and not in the cabin.

  Had I passed out so long I couldn’t remember the drive back? That’s probably what happened. Maybe he gave me a higher dosage, and then I had passed out, feeling at peace. Like I had not a care in the world. Hopefully, if I did die, I do so feeling like that—numb and too high to care about death.

  After I finally managed to drag my somewhat lifeless body downstairs, I found a note sitting on the counter.

  Got some business to do. Back maybe later tonight.

  His handwriting was all over the place, like a child in kindergarten learning how to write properly between the lines.

  Deciding to brew some coffee, I sat on the stool, staring at the coffee machine until I heard the percolator grumble before completely evaporating—the indicator that the brewing was finished. Pulling out the pint-sized milk from the fridge, I poured a quarter into the mug before adding two teaspoons of sugar then filling the rest with the dark colored, heavenly liquid.

  With my pounding headache, I needed a good dose of sugar. A couple tablets of Tylenol would also help snap myself back to reality. As much as I liked getting used to the injectable drug Doug had been giving me, I knew I had to get out of there.

  First things first, though; I had to check the mail in case a letter from the insurance had come. That was if Bob had contacted them. Second, if there was none, I had to go through the locked, small filing cabinet they had in their bedroom. Then, if I couldn’t find anything, I just had to make my plan work—quietly stealing money from Doug.

  My grumbling tummy distracted me from my thoughts. I tried to recall the last time I had eaten; I thought it was with Logan at the café. I hadn’t had anything solid from then on.

  The thought of food made me want to vomit, but I knew I wouldn’t survive long if I didn’t have the energy to sustain me through this ordeal. Much to my displeasure, I strode towards the freezer, pulling out one of Bob’s ready frozen meals and stuffing it in the microwave for a few minutes.

  It took me about an hour and a half to finish a tiny dish of red pasta. Alas, I had succeeded at something, at least. Cleaning up, I placed the empty tray in the garbage and then washed the utensils I had used.

  In front of the kitchen sink was a large glass overlooking the backyard. After finishing the dishes, I stared afar, the feeling of loneliness washing over me.

  If things were just different…

  I wished away. Maybe someday my luck would change. Maybe someday I would be strong enough to fight all these demons that were blocking me from moving forward. Someday. Perhaps…

  Sighing, I went to the entry hall and took a key from the accent table for the mailbox. Giving myself a quick glance in the medium-sized, oak-framed mirror, for the first time, I noticed the clothes I had on were the same ones as yesterday. Additionally, my hair was disheveled and my skin looked pasty. When I finally gazed into my eyes, I felt disconnected, as though the life had been sucked out of me. It was like I could barely recognize myself anymore.

  Flashbacks of what had happened the night before flashed before my eyes as I stared hard at myself. What stood out the most was Hunter. How I’d consented to his touch. Had that really been me giving him the green light? Or had it been the drug talking?

  Glancing down, I stretched my arm out and spotted the area where the needles had gone in. It looked like small dots of brown with a tiny hint of red rimming it. Previously, I had adored the feeling of the drug and what it did to me. How long would it take for me to start craving it? If this was the life Doug had carved out for me, drugs would undoubtedly be part of it. The thought of never coming out of the hell I was living on a daily basis pulled me into depression.

  Reaching for the tiny, silver key, I stepped outside barefoot. Since it was summer time, the sun was high, burning hot before noon. My feet were scalded from the overheated cement as I walked towards the mailbox at the end of the driveway.

  A sound of people talking made me glance towards their direction. It seemed Logan had his male and female friends over. It looked like they were waiting for him to come out as they chatted, leaning against the SUV.

  Looking away, I focused on what I had come there for, pulling out all the contents in the mailbox. Since Bob had left, neither of us had checked the mail. The overflowing amount of regular mail and condolence cards overwhelmed me.

  Shutting it, I pressed everything to my chest, holding it close, when I heard someone yelling my name. “Ana!”

  Spinning halfway around, I saw Logan strolling towards me. One of the girls tried to talk
to him, but he said something that made her stop. She gave me a thorough once-over then nodded, retreating along with the rest of her friends.

  Is that his girlfriend? I wondered as I watched him come towards me.

  Once he reached me, I became conscious of how miserable I looked.

  “Hey,” he said, looking down at me, his gaze roving all over my face before stopping around my eyes, staring deeply into them.

  “Hi.”

  “You need help?” He glanced towards the pile of mail in my hands.

  I shook my head, not wanting to prolong this conversation. Besides, his friends were waiting. “I can manage.”

  “Come on; it’s no big deal.” He hijacked everything from my hands before having the audacity to start walking inside my house.

  I stood there, confused for a second, before I shook my head and started following him inside. What a stubborn man.

  When I caught up with him, he was placing the mail on the accent table while I stood just behind the entrance door, watching him with admiration. For the love of everything holy, I couldn’t start liking him. I just couldn’t. Why did he have to be so freaking nice? Had he been like this before all the catastrophes had happened, I might’ve welcomed it, but right then, everything was complicated.

  Self-consciously, I tried to fix my hair before cleared my throat to get his attention. When our eyes met, I swore my heart started beating a tad faster than before he had appeared.

  “Thank you—once again.”

  His brows knitted together when I said once again.

  My hands did some nervous gesture before I started explaining properly. “I’ve said ‘thank you’ a lot of times with you since the other day. It’s just… You’ve been so nice, been so kind to me, I just, you know… thanks. Thank you for being… you,” I rambled with my face heating up beyond salvation.

  He inched closer, giving me a good glimpse of his raw masculinity. “There’s no need for that, you know. I want to help, whenever I can.”

  His mother had raised him right. I desperately wished I could say the same for Doug, but then again, that surely wasn’t the case.

  “I gotta go catch up with my friends.”

  I nodded, trying to smile. “Oh, yeah, they’re waiting.”

  “You have my number,” he started saying. “If you need anything… or if you want to get together—for coffee or dinner…”

  Who knew when that would happen? “Sure, yeah.”

  He looked out the door then back at me before giving me a smile. “Take care, Ana.”

  A small, sad smile formed on my lips. “You, too, Logan.”

  After he had left, and after the door was securely closed, I leaned against it, taking a deep breath.

  I liked him. Too much.

  Another first for me.

  Chapter 9

  A week went by and my life was at a standstill. My only minor bit of progress during those seven days was accumulating one hundred fifty dollars’ worth of cash out of Doug’s pocket. It wasn’t a lot, however it was something to hold on to. So far, with what little of my own money I had already had on the side and this new sum, it totaled to roughly five hundred dollars. Subsequently, I had a long way to go before I could up and leave this rotten place.

  I hadn’t found any letters in regard to any insurance that could help me out, either. Although, I knew about the locked filing cabinet upstairs in their bedroom, finding the key had been difficult.

  The drugs had been a constant, daily routine for Doug, injecting me on a nightly basis before he “loved me” as he brashly put it.

  I admitted, as the days dragged on, I was becoming accustomed to being in a drugged haze. Fear still gripped me each and every time he flashed the syringe, yet I couldn’t help my body’s reaction to what the drug fueled inside me. My body craved that oblivion… sought it at times.

  One of his goals was to get me addicted—hooked—as he kept pointing out, and even though I would wake up the next day in terror, once I saw him holding it out, my mind and body fought against each other. My mind would tell me I should fight it as hard as I could, but my body would be so thirsty at the very sight of the injectable euphoria that, sometimes, I felt quite erratic. I would do just about anything simply so I could get into me.

  Was I an addict? Not yet, although I was well on my way there.

  I should have felt guilty for what was going to come each night after I shared dinner with Doug, but all I could think about was what was to come after.

  He would order me to go upstairs to his bedroom while he remained downstairs prepping the H with his spoon and whatever else paraphernalia he needed to get things going. And I would sit on the bed, fidgeting…

  Like what I was doing now; sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting like a good, battered puppy.

  I was certain it was due to the fact I barely questioned him anymore. He seemed to have taken it as my way of letting him know I was becoming used to him, like I was being molded into his perfect, lovesick, sex puppet.

  With the drug, sex with him was bearable. At times, I even enjoyed myself. It didn’t hurt that he was gentle at times with me, either. Glimpses of the old Doug would resurface once in a while, and I had to admit, it was somehow weirdly comforting to me.

  Yes, I had succumbed to that. It was sad, but since I had little choice in the matter, I had to take comfort wherever I could find it. It was a daily balancing act of finding solace while attempting to never forget what I aimed to get after this horrific ordeal—my escape and the possibility of finding a decent life for me somewhere.

  When he arrived in the bedroom, he had something new with him. Heroin really was his chosen drug for me, however this time, he was changing his game, showing how he was learning to trust me to do what he thought best.

  Sitting on the bed next to me, he said, “I have a surprise. I will reward you with this since you’re being a good girl.” Doug held a pipe to my mouth as he lit it. It contained small, powdery crystals.

  Closing my lip on the pipe, I inhaled, not knowing what to do next. When smoke started coming out, I parted from it and began to cough.

  “Try again,” he commanded softly.

  The second time did the same thing to me, yet I held it for a second longer than the first one. It didn’t take long until the effects of the drug coursed through my system. I felt like a lot of butterflies were floating about in my stomach along with an instantaneous, sensual feeling that wired and buzzed all over me. I was shocked with the sudden reaction while Doug merely smiled and made me smoke a few times more. Each hit made everything much more intense and pure, unmitigated bliss.

  What is this stuff? I wondered, getting lost in the heavenly feeling it gave me.

  “See, Ana, I can reward you when you’re being good.”

  I closed my eyes as I felt Doug massage my breast, his other hand going between my legs. Each lick, each stroke, made me want more.

  When he nudged my legs open, I obligingly parted them.

  “For years, I have dreamt of seeing you like this, enjoying your body as I take it all from you. You were meant for me, Ana.”

  I moaned when I felt his tongue lick my pussy.

  I thought, If Doug keeps on fucking and using me, I’d rather be high because at least then I feel good about something.

  When he entered me with one swift stroke of his dick, I was completely aroused. Utterly and completely. My pussy was wet, slick, and ready for what he had to offer.

  I begged for him to take me. I begged to be fucked. I begged to be used. Anything to keep this amazing feeling going. I wanted to reach the highest peak I could find. Be it from drugs or sex, I didn’t care. Nothing except that beautiful void mattered.

  I was spiraling out of control and no one was there to stop me from falling deeper and deeper into manic oblivion.

  So it happened, and it kept on happening.

  That was the beginning of my addiction to drugs and sex.

  Chapter 10

  “Fuc
k,” Doug muttered as he hung up the phone, pacing like a caged lion.

  Glancing away from the television, I noticed he looked stressed, a look I hadn’t seen on him before. Something must be up. “Want to talk about it?” I politely asked.

  He shook his head before stopping, then he started pacing once more. “That was Hunter.”

  Hearing his name again gave me goose bumps. Okay, so he called all the time, big deal. “That’s cool.”

  Doug’s eyes went as big as saucers. “No—it’s not fucking cool!” he growled¸ his neck veins popping out. “He wants to see me tonight.” His pacing continued, deep in thought.

  I didn’t understand. He always went out to see the guys. Besides, they were dealing drugs together, as a result it shouldn’t be something to freak out about. Why was he so apprehensive anyway? Since I didn’t want to have a fight with him, however, this was a cue to for me to shut up and mind my own business.

  I was about to resume watching my show when Doug’s phone beeped with a text message. He let out a long sigh as his eyes skimmed the screen before placing it in his back pocket.

  “Gotta go. Don’t expect me until tomorrow morning. This is gonna be a long night.” With that said, he immediately went out the door. It wasn’t long after when I heard his car engine rev to life before he drove away to the undisclosed cabin location.

  No Doug, no drugs. This was how he did it, making me wait for him to come back home. He knew I wanted it, therefore he kept me anticipating the next shot of pure bliss. Without him there, it was going to be a difficult night. If I could just train myself to think of other things, get myself occupied, then maybe I could forget about it. Hopefully.

  After finishing my show, I turned off the TV and continued to sit on the couch, wondering what had made him so nervous. It was completely unlike him. Had he done something wrong to rouse a fight with his “friends?”

  If something were to happen to him, what would I do? I had no resources. With no Bob in sight, I would have nothing. I was sure I could find a job that paid minimum wage since I didn’t have any work experience, but how did I even begin with that?