by K. Webster
He laughs but it’s dark and humorless. “Someone grew some balls since turning eighteen.”
“Where is she?” My tone is low and deadly.
“She’s gone,” he says, “for now. But soon I’ll have her back. Not that it matters to you anyway.”
“YOU WON’T HAVE ANYTHING!” I roar.
His heavy breathing has become louder on the other end of the line and he practically spits out his next words. “I will have everything—I’ve had everything. She belongs to me you little shit. Tony knew what he was doing when he agreed to all of this. He knew what could happen.”
“That you’d rape his daughter?!”
“You can’t rape the willing, pussy boy. And boy was she willing—such a needy, greedy little girl. So ripe. So fucking juicy. It may not have been part of the original…scheme, but when the opportunity presented itself, I took it. Jesus, I’m getting hard just thinking about slurping up that wet pussy of hers. Fucking delicious. And, goddamn, that ass of hers was so tight—“
Before I can control myself, I heave the phone across the room with more force than any baseball I’ve ever thrown. It hits the dresser and shatters. My lifeline to the man who stole her is gone. The rage is out of control and I storm out of the house so I don’t ruin my sweet girl’s home. Instead, I take my anger outside and beat the fuck out of the trunk of a thick oak in the backyard. Once my knuckles are busted open and bloody, and I am depleted of energy, I walk to the corner of the yard and sink to my ass on the dirt. Hot tears threaten but I don’t let them fall.
This fucker won’t win. He’ll show up and I’ll force him to tell me who he sold her to. If I have to kick his ass into next week, I will. If I have to break both his arms, I will. If I have to kill him, I fucking will. I will do whatever is necessary to pull the information from him. And when he finally gives me what I want…I’ll save her. I will find my girl and bring her back home.
I need to be smart. Vigilant. Her hero.
He’ll turn up soon. Either here, his job, his bank. Somewhere. And when he does, I’ll be waiting.
“SHHHH.”
His lips are all over mine. Sweet and needy. But they feel all wrong. I don’t want his lips on me. And now his tongue is pushing its way into my mouth. Rubbing against my own tongue. Taking and owning.
“Stop,” I whimper into his mouth.
He ignores me and dives deeper. His palm covers my breast through my nightgown and he squeezes almost painfully. I cry out and try to push him away.
“Stop!”
His mouth tears from mine and he’s no longer desperate. He’s fierce. Green eyes glower down at me as he covers my mouth with his palm. I struggle against his heavy frame but I’m not strong enough. This boy who I once loved is turning into a monster. He’s hurting me.
A whimper escapes me and his eyes darken. He stares at me as if he’s contemplating how to devour my entire being. How to extract it from my body and run his tongue along it.
I shudder in his arms. He seems to enjoy my discomfort, though, because he grins baring his perfect teeth to me.
“I’ve been waiting for you, babe. To lose my virginity to the woman I love. You came back to me. The time is now.”
A scream remains lodged in my throat as I struggle against his hold. He laughs and then attacks my neck. His teeth bruise the flesh as he bites down hard. He works to silence my cry with his hand, tears rolling down my cheeks. It feels as though blood is gushing from me and when he pulls away to look at me again, my horrors are confirmed.
His white teeth are stained red and my blood drips from his chin. The green eyes morph into the color of coffee, before turning almost black. And he’s no longer a boy, but the devil who owns this cabin. He slams his thickness into me and I scream. My blood drips from his chin and splashes onto my face. With each drip into my eyes, I become blind. The world around me turns red with my blood. The devil fucks me straight to hell.
“That’s my baby inside of you,” he taunts.
I shake my head in vehemence. I’m waiting for my white horse to show up, carrying my hero. But then I remember he’s dead.
He can’t save me.
Can’t save me from their evil.
The demonic eyes find mine and he tears his hand from my mouth, instantly replacing it with his tongue. It plunges inside so deeply that I retch in response. The taste of the metallic blood—my blood—and the way he tries to fuck my throat with his thick tongue is too much.
I gag and gag and gag.
“Baylee.”
The voice is soft and sweet. I miss it so much.
“Mom?”
I’m now in the cemetery and I’m staring at her tombstone. The air is cold and the monsters are momentarily gone.
“Baylee,” she whispers again, her voice wrapping around me in a comforting hug. “Help me…”
The earth moves in front of her grave and I scramble over to it. Her long slender finger pokes through the dirt and wiggles at me.
“Mom!” I screech and begin clawing at the ground.
“You left me,” she tells me sadly.
With a shake of my head in disagreement, I dig and dig until her arm is free to her elbow. Grabbing onto it, I pull with all my might. Soon, her dirty face emerges and her blue eyes stare at me almost in an accusing way.
“You left me.”
I’m sobbing as I completely free her from the dirt. Her frail body collapses on mine and I get a whiff of decomposing flesh.
“Mom, I’m here. I’m here,” I tell her and rake my fingers through her filthy blonde hair, hugging her to me. “I wanted to save you. I thought War’s money could save you. Mommy, I tried.”
She lets out a groan, her breath a deadly stench. “You were too late, honey. Too late.”
When my body begins to shudder with hysterical sobs, I close my eyes and try not to throw up. But when I reopen them, I’m back in the forest behind Gabe’s cabin. The monster with the coffee-colored eyes is standing above me unbuckling his jeans. He pulls out his cock and I try to run. One step, two step, three step.
His weight is suddenly on top of me. Crushing. Deadly. Soul consuming. He smashes my face into the brush and I’m choking on leaves. Sticks poke at my face. Ants crawl into my ears. The jingle of his belt jolts me into action and I squirm to avoid his harsh punishment.
“Three steps, three licks,” he taunts before the fire tears across my flesh.
“Ahhhh!”
My scream could wake the dead. Maybe Mom will come save me even though I couldn’t save her.
“Baylee! Wake up!”
My eyes fly open and a dark shadow is on top of me, holding my arms down against the bed.
“Help me!” I screech and squirm against my attacker. “Get off me!”
“Jesus, it’s me,” he says softly. “You were having a nightmare and were flipping out. I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself.”
My body somewhat relaxes once I realize it’s Brandon—not the monster from my dream. Memories of my mother fade away. The forest dissipates in the air around me. Smells, sounds, pain—they all flee and leave me in peace.
“There she is,” he coos and presses a kiss to my forehead.
Only then do I realize our position. He’s on top of me, his cock pressed against my bare pussy with only the fabric of his boxers preventing him from pushing into me. My legs around his hips. His strong grip on my wrists pressing into the bed on either side of my head.
“Brandon…” I start but he shushes me with a soft kiss on my lips.
Anxiety washes over me and my heart thunders inside my chest as if it might explode at any moment.
“I’m going to take care of you, babe,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Always.”
A shudder ripples through me when he grows hard. It’s enough to throw me out of my daze. “Get off me!”
He jerks away and stares down at me, shock morphing his features. You’d think I’d just slapped him. If he’ll free my hands, I’ll do just that. But he rolls off and a
way from me, pain contorting his features.
“I’m not him,” he chokes out. “I’m not that fucking monster. I love you.”
I scramble out of the bed and back away toward the bathroom. But it’s when I hear him crying—soft, masculine sobs—that I begin to ache inside. He’s right. He’s not a monster like Gabe. But he’s not the playful, innocent boy I left behind either. The Brandon I knew before would never pin me down. Never take anything from me unless I was ready to give it. I should be grateful for Brandon. And I am. He’s here when nobody else would or could be. The man—and yes, he’s all man now—only wants to look after me. To love me. But why can’t he understand that right now, I just need my friend?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and continue my retreat toward the bathroom in the dark. “I have nightmares about him and the stuff he’s done to me. I was scared.”
He climbs off the bed and strides over to me. His strong arms wrap around me and pull me to his sculpted chest. “It’s okay. You’re drenched in sweat. Take a shower and you’ll feel better. I’ll grab you a bottle of water for when you get out.”
I want to be thankful for his gentleness. Want to be able to accept it for what it is. I let out a sigh when he kisses the top of my head. He leaves me to head for the kitchen. Making my way inside, I turn on the light in the bathroom and kick a discarded towel out of the way. I lock the bathroom door behind me and head over to the mirror.
My hair has dried from my last shower and is a mess on top of my head. Dark circles paint the flesh under my eyes. A quiver has set in on my bottom lip and tears stain my cheeks. I’m crushing under the weight of all that’s happened to me.
I twist my hair into a quick bun and then turn on the shower. Seconds later, I’m standing under the hot spray, hoping to wash away my nightmares forever. I quickly rinse my body but when I bring a washcloth between my thighs, I wince. My pussy feels slightly sore as if I’ve recently had sex. But the last time was the night before with Gabe. A shudder ripples through me and I push away another nightmare, as a dark sense of foreboding comes over me.
With everything that’s happened, my body has been thrown out of whack.
Pregnancy hormones and all that.
I remember falling asleep with Brandon protectively curled up behind me. Waking up, entwined in him, as if we’d been—
No. He wouldn’t. As much as I know he wants to, he’d never violate me like that. I need to stop painting him as a villain and lean on him as a friend. Perhaps he had a wet dream, while I was having another nightmare. I have to chuckle at the irony. Because if I don’t I’ll start to cry.
I’m going to take care of you, babe.
I remember his words to me, once he ripped me from sleep. I have to trust that he is doing just that. Even though I don’t trust anyone right now. But I need a friend. Incredibly so.
When the water grows cold, I step out and begin to dry off.
Then I hear it.
Shouting.
What if Gabe got loose and is hurting Brandon?
Panic sets in. I can’t lose Brandon too. My desperate resolve from just outside this godforsaken cabin two days ago comes rushing back over me. I might not entirely trust Brandon anymore. He might be deceiving me in some way that I will sniff out. But he’s all I’ve got. I didn’t let Gabe steal him away from me then. And I will not fucking lose him now either.
Not wasting any time, I bolt from the bathroom naked and down the hallway. I’m just pushing through into the kitchen but then slam to a halt.
Brandon’s green eyes are glowing with manic rage. His hair is drenched with sweat and his shoulders quake with heavy breaths as he drags Gabe in his chair over to the hole of the cellar. I open my mouth to plead for him to stop—that if Gabe doesn’t tell me what happened to Dad, I’ll never have any answers. But instead, I stand there stunned silent and reaching out to him.
Gabe’s dark eyes find mine and they’re sad. He mouths that he’s sorry before he drops heavily down the hole. The sickening crunch resounds over and over again in my head. Chair splintering. Bones breaking. Over and over again. No other sounds. No movement or moans or noise of any kind follow the sound of his descent.
I hate Gabe.
Detest his existence.
But I wanted him to suffer.
Humanely.
In prison.
To always think about his crimes and pay for them over his lifetime.
“W-W-What did you do?” I stammer out and meet the enraged glare of Brandon. Pushing past him, I make my way over to the hole that Gabe was pushed into. I fall to my knees and peer inside. My stomach clenches into a fist as I clutch onto the sides of the floor to keep from hurtling down into the abyss with him. Gabe’s lying on his side facing the darkness of the cellar. A pool of blood forms around the middle of his body and he’s unmoving. The chair is smashed into a several pieces around him. His neck seems to be turned in an awkward way and I wonder if he broke it upon impact. Tears are streaming down my face and I angrily swipe them away with the back of my hand. Finding the cellar door, I pull it closed and then latch it shut. I can’t look at his broken body any longer.
With a scream of frustration, I scramble to my feet and charge for Brandon. “Why? Why did you do that?” I demand, fresh, hot tears chasing the ones before them, race their way to my jaw and drip onto my breasts. “You killed him!”
His eyes hungrily lick up and down my naked form before they’re back on my teary ones. They soften at the sight and he slowly approaches. “The nightmares wouldn’t stop until he was dead, Baylee. I’m healing you. I’m fixing you, babe.”
Fury explodes within me and I attack. My fists become tiny weapons of destruction as I try to beat some sense into him. When my hands don’t seem to be doing the job, I set to shoving him. He lets me push him against the counter. I slap at his face and am about to claw his stupid eyeballs out when he snatches both wrists and yanks me to him. His face is bright red, anger twisting up his handsome features into something ugly and hateful. I want to rip the look right from his face.
I shake my head at him and jerk my wrists from his grasp. “Don’t touch me. You can sleep on the couch tonight for all I care,” I hiss at him. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
The unmasked rage begins to melt from his features. His face falls into a frown—clearly heartbroken—as I storm from the room. Once inside the bedroom, I lock the door and then crawl into the bed.
This time, when I dream, Brandon takes the place of the monster. And this new monster is equally terrifying.
The birds chirping outside the window wake me up at dawn. My entire body aches from crying and exertion. With Gabe gone, I’m ready to leave this hell hole once and for all. Maybe Brandon did me a favor. Although I will never let him know that. But by him getting rid of our villain, maybe now I can move on. Problem is, I don’t want to move on. I want to go to the police. Tell them about the cabin and all about Gabe. Expose the WCT sex ring but leave War’s name out of it. And most importantly, I want to find Land. If I can’t count on Brandon, I know I can count on Land to help me find my dad. He’ll want me in his life once he learns I’m carrying a part of his son.
And life will get better. I can control that much.
I couldn’t control what Gabe took from me.
I couldn’t control my mother’s death.
I couldn’t control War’s fate.
I couldn’t even control gaining the answers I wanted and the closure I needed from this whole mess.
But I am going to take care of myself from here on out. And I will control that.
A soft knock on the door makes me jump. I quickly throw on my clothes from yesterday before opening it.
Brandon’s face is contorted into one of guilt and regret. He rests his forearms on the door frame and leans into the room, eyes on mine.
“Baylee,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”
I gather up Mom’s sweater, my nightgown, and the picture frame. Ignoring him, I stuff them
all into my small purse, making it bulge. “Take me to the police station. Now.”
He leaves his position in the doorway and stalks over to me. I refuse to show weakness anymore and I square my shoulders, looking him in the eye. When his hand reaches for me, I swat it away.
“We can’t do that,” he says with a sigh of frustration. “They’ll take you to jail.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll take my chances.”
He growls and runs his fingers through his hair. “Listen, babe. Let’s talk this through first.”
“No. There’s nothing to say. You killed a man. I told you not to hurt him. I told you we needed answers out of him. But you did whatever the hell you wanted to anyway. I need some space from you.”
I start past him but he grabs my wrist. His almost glowing green orbs find mine and his brows furrow. “That is exactly why we can’t go to the police.”
With a huff, I jerk my arm from his grip. “I thought you were worried about me being taken to jail. It’s your own ass you’re looking to save? Well tough shit. Besides, it was self-defense, Brandon. Wasn’t it?”
“He was hogtied, babe, and he was covered in cuts and bruises we gave him. They’ll see it as premeditated murder or some shit. You can’t let them take me away from you now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Guilt tries to wash over my anger, but I don’t let it. Not this time. “Either you take me to the police, or I find my own way. Your choice.”
A streak of anger flashes in Brandon’s eyes before he masks it and releases a sigh of defeat, his hands scrubbing over his face. “Fuck, Baylee! Aren’t you listening to me?” I jolt backwards because in the next second, he’s in my face, hands gripping my arms, shaking me. “We cannot go to the fucking police. The whole time you were gone, I tried to get their help. The whole fucking time. They wouldn’t believe a word I said. They were only interested in talking to me once that freak who bought you was killed. We have no proof. We have no witnesses. My parents sure as hell aren’t going to help us, and—” He catches himself and lowers his tone. “And yours can’t help us either, babe. You want answers? You want to find your dad? Fine. Let’s go to San Francisco and start asking around. I’m with you. But we have to take matters into our own hands.”
