“Come on, Nicole. Don’t be so serious all the time. I’ll see that you have something with which to occupy yourself tomorrow.”
“Can I read your book?”
“I told you, not until it’s finished.”
“Not that one. The other one. The one you said bombed.”
“I never said it bombed. Bombed is such a negative word. Why would want to read that one?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just to get a sense of your style.” I was curious. I wanted a closer look to how his mind worked.
“I’ll think about it.”
I dropped the subject for the rest of the evening. I guess he felt bad for me because he actually stayed and played cards with me that evening after dinner. As much as I hated to admit it, it was better than nothing. I never would’ve thought that I’d find myself preferring the company of the sadistic over loneliness.
That night, as he shackled me to the headboard and hovered over my body, he smiled.
“Do you still want me?” he asked.
What the hell was I supposed to say to that? No, I did not want him to do anything except drop dead. But I couldn’t tell him that.
I slowly nodded.
He kissed my neck gently while he caressed my breast with his hand. His light kisses on my neck gave me gooseflesh, which made my nipples hard under Ron’s hand, which made Ron think I was enjoying his touch. It wasn’t true, but that’s what he thought.
“Oh, Nicole,” he whispered breathlessly. “You really do want me.”
Damn the goose bumps.
He got up on the bed on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. He reached back and took his shoes off one at a time, each falling to the floor with a thump. As he reached for and unfastened his slacks, I tried to prepare myself for what was about to happen. As he slid himself out of his pants, I figured myself lucky to have gone so long without this happening already.
My only hope was it wouldn’t hurt too much. But even if hurt a lot, I would still be better off than Stephanie, Melinda, and Crystal. And it was better to have this happen here, upstairs in a real bedroom, than in the torture chamber downstairs on the cold concrete floor.
Positioning himself between my legs, he lowered his body onto mine.
I tried to relax, telling myself that if I were tense, it would be more painful. But how could you relax while something like this was happening?
As he entered me, I was surprised. In fact, I gasped. Ron thought it was a gasp of pleasure, but it was surprise. I’d expected him to be rough, but he was gentle. He had never been gentle with the other girls, at least not that I saw. I had every reason to expect him to be forceful and fierce with me, but he wasn’t. I’d been expecting a brutal rape like those that I’d witnessed downstairs, but instead, this was more like...well, more like lovemaking. In his mind, that’s what it was. He was making love to me. But in my mind, it was still rape.
As he rocked my body, the images of him with the other girls flashed through my mind. The choking, the yelling out my name, the way he’d rammed himself against Stephanie’s dead body. All of it entered my mind. I tried to push the thoughts away, and find a happy place.
I imagined myself on the beach. I felt the sand squishing between my toes. I could feel the water hitting my ankles. I could hear the sound of the waves and the seagulls. I could feel the warm sun beating down on me.
Before I knew it, it was over. He kissed me all over my face and left the room.
I lay there, feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted from my back. The thing I’d been dreading had finally happened, and it hadn’t been so bad. And he was halfway through writing the book, which meant he was closer to possibly letting me go. Things were really starting to look up for me.
But of course, what goes up must come down.
Chapter 26
The next morning, Ron kept his word and brought me a few things to occupy myself with. He brought a book of word searches, a book of crossword puzzles, a crayon to write with, and a book to read. To my surprise, it was his first book. I honestly hadn’t expected him to let me read it. But here it was.
After breakfast, he headed off to his bedroom to write, and I picked up his book, titled Welcome. The cover was reminiscent of a romance novel, except it depicted a man strangling a woman. Nothing romantic about that. I opened the book and began reading.
Hours later, I closed the book and yelled to Ron that I was hungry. He came in and made us each a bowl of soup. While we ate, he asked me if I was done with the book.
“Not yet. Almost.”
“By dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I can’t wait to hear what you think about it.”
“How’s the other one coming?”
“Good. Everything’s flowing nicely. I did hit a snag, however. Nothing for you to worry about, though. It’ll all work out.”
We finished our lunch and he rushed back to his bedroom. I hurried through my secret exercises and got back to reading the book.
It was no wonder the damn thing hadn’t sold well. It was horrible. It was sloppily written. And the story—a group of lost hikers stumble across a shack in the woods in which a family of murderers live and are killed one by one (like that hadn’t been done to death, no pun intended)—didn’t hold up. The timeline was wrong, and the names were confused a few times. The people in the story did things that normal, real people could never do. They had impossible strength and their bodies were pushed far past the point that would’ve killed any human.
As I closed the book and thought about that, I realized that was why he tortured people in the basement. He was testing the human body for that realism he talked about. He needed to know just how far a person could be pushed before they fell. Just how far they’d bend before they broke.
I shuddered to think I was one of his subjects, even though I hadn’t really been tested physically.
Then I gasped. He wasn’t testing me physically. He was testing me mentally. He was pushing all my buttons, arousing my emotions and messing with my mind. He was seeing how far he could push me before I snapped.
Well I wasn’t your average broad. I was a mother. I wasn’t snapping that easily. If he wanted to break me, he had his work cut out for him.
As we ate dinner, Ron asked the inevitable question that I’d spent the afternoon preparing to answer.
“What did you think? And be honest, Nicole.”
“It was interesting,” I said.
“How so?”
“The things your characters did and how they interacted with one another were interesting.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes.” I didn’t.
“Did you think it was good?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t.
“What was your favorite part?”
The end, when it was over. “I kind of liked the ending. When the girl got away.”
“Well, she didn’t really get away.”
“No. But she did for a minute. Until he caught up to her and dragged her back to the house kicking and screaming.”
Studying me, Ron asked, “What would you have done differently had you been her?”
I was careful with my words. I didn’t want him to know how I would do anything if I got away from him, because there would be a day when I did, and I didn’t want him to know what to look for.
“I think she did everything right. She just got caught. He was smarter than her. She did all she could.”
He kept staring at me and nodded, clearly satisfied. I assumed he was the man in the story, so saying that he was smarter than his victim was a stroke to his ego.
If I guessed it right, Ron had sat around and fantasized about kidnapping and killing a woman. Or women. Instead of actually doing it, he’d written that book. However, the book was a flop. This gave him a reason to live out his fantasies for real, not just on paper.
Then again, I could be completely wrong. Maybe he was just a psychopath who enjoyed k
illing women and decided to write about it. His first book flopped, so he thought he’d write the next one as he tortured the women instead of later. After all, he had just told me that he wanted to write about Crystal while it was still fresh in his mind.
Either way, the man was nuts. And his book sucked.
That night, after he handcuffed me to the headboard, he kissed me goodnight and left, saying he was going to write. I welcomed the darkness and the silence.
I fell asleep quickly and had horrible dreams. In them, Ron was having his way with me. Oddly, in my dreams, I enjoyed it. I moaned and moved beneath him as he rocked me steadily. As he brought me to climax, I threw my head back, arched my back, and opened my eyes.
I was shocked to discover that it was real. It wasn’t a dream. Ron was on top of me, naked and panting, and I was in the throes of a soul-shaking orgasm. I tried to stop it, but I was too far in. As my body tensed and spasmed, tears rolled from my eyes and dropped onto the pillow. I gasped and started to moan, but I bit my lower lip to stop it from happening. I couldn’t stop the orgasm, but I could stop the moan. Or so I thought. It still managed to escape me, though not as loudly as it would have otherwise. That was the most bizarre orgasm I’d ever had.
How could this happen? How could I have let it happen? I felt disgusted.
Minutes after my orgasm, Ron had one of his own. He quickened his thrusts and finally trembled on top of me, shuddering to a stop. He lay on top of me for a few minutes, kissing my neck as his breathing returned to normal.
“That was amazing, Nicole. Absolutely amazing.” He got up, kissing my breasts as he went. He grabbed his clothes and left me in the room alone, in the dark, crying, racked with even more guilt.
I felt like I’d cheated on Wade. I was so angry at both Ron and myself. Was it normal? Did it happen to other women? I had no idea. It was one of the many things I’d have to ask the psychiatrist that I’d no doubt be seeing for years after I got out of this house.
The one thing that kept coming to my mind was would Wade be angry with me? Would he forgive me or feel as though I’d cheated on him? I knew that he’d be so happy to see me alive he wouldn’t care about that and wouldn’t hold it against me. It wasn’t cheating. I was held captive by a madman who had forced himself on me while I slept. My dream state had tricked me. It’s not like I went out and got myself a boyfriend. He would know that.
But why did I still feel like I’d betrayed him?
Chapter 27
Many days later, Ron left the house, saying he had several errands to run. He said he would be late getting back and that he’d pick up dinner while he was out. Discussing what dinner would be, we agreed on a pizza and he left.
I sat at the table, doing word search puzzles, one after the other. It successfully kept my mind occupied until Ron returned with the pizza. To my surprise and dismay, he brought more than just a pizza.
He walked in, smiling, and set the pizza on the table. He also had a brown paper bag, which he set on the floor beside his chair.
“Miss me?” he asked.
“Like an ingrown hair,” I replied.
He laughed and took two plates from the cabinet. As he set them on the table, he said, “I have a surprise for you, Nicole.”
“Yeah? What is it? A dead puppy?”
He chuckled, as usual. “No. It’s better than that. But it can wait until after we’ve eaten, don’t you think?”
“If you weren’t going to give it to me until after we eat, why’d you mention it now?”
“To tease you, of course.” He smiled and served us each a piece of pizza and a soda.
We ate in silence for a while. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but I was wondering what sort of surprise he could possibly have for me.
As soon as we were finished, Ron cleared the dishes from the table, put the remainder of the pizza on the counter by the refrigerator, and put our soda cans in the recycle bin. It still struck me as funny that a serial killer as twisted as Ron would recycle, but I’d seen him do it many times. Newspapers, aluminum cans, and plastic bottles. He was a saint except for that nagging killing thing.
Ron returned to his chair and leaned over. I heard the bag rattle. He sat up straight, but didn’t show me what he had for me.
“Have you enjoyed your stay here, Nicole?”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious.”
“I’d rather be at home.”
“I know you would. But have you enjoyed your stay here?”
“It hasn’t been as bad as it could’ve been, I guess.”
He nodded. “I’ve brought you something I think you will enjoy greatly. It’s a little reward for behaving so well while you’ve been here. I made a stop while I was out today. I had to tell a little white lie.”
“As opposed to a big black one?”
He crunched his brows together. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head.
“Anyway, I know you’ve been here a while and I thought I’d do something nice for you. So I stopped off and got you this.”
He brought his hand up from his lap and placed the item on the table. When he pulled his hand back, I gasped.
“Where did you get that?” I demanded.
“You sound angry.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Well I didn’t get it from a store.”
“Where?” I said through clenched teeth, trying to keep from crying.
“Let’s just say it’s used.”
“You son of a bitch. Tell me where you got that.”
“I think you know, Nicole.”
I cried. I reached out with my left hand and picked it up. I slowly brought it up to my nose and inhaled deeply, breathing in a scent I hadn’t smelled in months. It was the wonderful scent of my beautiful baby boy.
“I see you recognize it as belonging to your son.”
I nodded.
“I thought you might.”
Struggling to control my emotions, I said, “It’s his first teddy bear. It’s one of his favorites.”
“That’s sweet,” he said without emotion.
“How did you get this?” I asked, thinking he’d broken into my house and stolen it.
“I took it before I left.”
“What do you mean before you left?”
“Well as Wade was leading the way to the door as I left, I picked it up.”
“Wait. You talked to Wade?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yes.”
“Why? I don’t understand?” And it was clear that he didn’t want me to understand.
“I rang the doorbell and Wade answered.”
“Why were you at my house?” I didn’t disguise my anger with him. I couldn’t.
“I wanted to see the people you love. Maybe figure out why you love them.”
“Did you see Mason?” I hoped he said yes, and I hoped he said no. I didn’t want him around my son, but I wanted to know if he was okay.
“Yes. He’s really a very cute baby. Wade isn’t bad looking either. Am I a better lover than him, Nicole? Be honest.”
This was one of those questions to which there was no right answer. Either way I went, I was undoubtedly walking into a trap.
“Nicole? Am I?”
“You’re different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“You have a different style than he does.” I hoped that would satisfy him enough to shut up about it. The truth was I hated Ron and his touch. When I thought about him being inside me, I cringed. When I thought of his spunk spilling into me, I nearly vomited. It disgusted me. I’d never felt that way with Wade.
He didn’t look as though my answer was the one he wanted to hear, but he did move on to other things.
“Wade seems to have moved on.”
“What?”
“Yes, he didn’t mention you once while I was there. He didn’t cry. Didn’t as much as sniffle while I was there, whi
ch was every bit of half an hour.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to show his feelings to a stranger.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he just doesn’t care about you anymore.”
I shook my head. “He cares.” I knew he cared. Nothing this asshole could say to me would change my mind about that.
“I don’t think so. There was no shrine built to you or anything. Like I said, he didn’t seem sad to me. I’m sure he’s moved on. It’s been a long time, after all.”
“It’s your fault that I’m not there with them, like I should be.” I fought to keep my voice even, but it was a battle I barely won.
“Do you not want to be here?”
“Of course I don’t want to be here. I thought I made that perfectly clear from the first day. If I wanted to be here, I would’ve come over, rang your doorbell and asked if I could stay. You wouldn’t have had to drag me here with a gun to my ribs.”
He nodded. He left the room and went to the basement. I didn’t know what he was doing down there and I didn’t give a damn. I was pissed. He’d crossed a line when he went to my house.
I closed my eyes and sniffed the little brown bear with the red bow around its neck, breathing in the marvelous aroma of baby. My little Mason, with his daddy’s blue eyes and cheek dimples. I cried silently, wishing more than anything that I was home with him, bathing him, feeding him, rocking him, and singing to him. I longed to feel Wade’s arms holding me as I held Mason.
Come hell, high water, or an angry Ron, I was going to see them again.
Chapter 28
Sometime later, Ron returned to the kitchen to find me sitting there, staring at the puzzle book, but not doing the puzzles. My mind was on my son and husband. I held the bear close to me, clutched tightly against my chest as if I was drowning and it was a life preserver.
“Are you glad I brought it here?” Ron asked.
I shrugged. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say and frankly, I was tired of always guessing what the right thing to say was. It was mentally exhausting.
“Well, Nicole,” Ron snapped. “Would you rather I bring Mason here?”
I jerked my head up and looked at him, my heart racing. As much as I wanted to see, hear, and hold Mason, the thought of him being trapped here with me was unbearable. Even the thought of this psycho touching him was enough to make me furious.
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