Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  Bella is watching. Thinking I’ve become complacent. That I am comfortable. Perhaps even forgetful. Silently rejoicing as I walk to my office and close the door.

  I ask River to give me an update on his end of the search for Ray so that I can use the time to think. To listen quietly to the sounds outside the room.

  I can’t bring myself to check the camera. Watching her come to terms with her decision before she slips away. I can’t watch her leaving me because I will chase after her. I will want to punish her and lock her away again.

  But I can’t. It has to be now. I have to let her go. So she can no longer poison my mind. My heart.

  “Javi,” River says from the other end of the line.

  “What?”

  “You aren’t listening to me. What is going on over there?”

  “Nothing,” I tell him. “It’s nothing.”

  Silence greets me on the other end of the line. A long, painful silence. I know it will not last, and it doesn’t.

  “I knew this would happen.”

  “What would happen?” I ask.

  “This girl,” River snarls. “She has made you weak, Javier. She has poisoned you. Crippled you.”

  “No.”

  I don’t sound convincing even to myself. And I do not deny what he says next either.

  “Have you have fallen for her?”

  The quiet is tense, and I do not possess the energy to argue with River right now. I can only think of my Bella. My Bella slipping further and further away from me.

  It will take her twenty minutes to get to the main road. And from there, only a few minutes to the nearest gas station. She could be back home by noon.

  “She does not love you, Javier,” River tells me. “You must know she does not love you. It isn’t real, whatever she thinks she feels. Whatever tricks she plays on you. They are the same we have been taught ourselves many times. You must know this.”

  “I am aware of that,” I reply.

  “And what of your revenge then?” he asks.

  “My revenge will still be had. The past cannot be changed. I have damaged her, just as I set out to. I have tainted her. And when Ray comes home, he will see for himself.”

  “She does not look so damaged to me,” River remarks. “Walking around your home as she pleases. Wearing clothing and doing whatever she feels like. You have gone soft.”

  It is true, so I do not dishonor him by telling him otherwise. But I do try to reassure him.

  “It is done. It has already been done.”

  He is silent again, for several moments. Taking his time to gather the right words as River sometimes does.

  “Do you remember how they tricked us?”

  The memory of his fake murder still plays on repeat in my head. Every day, it has haunted me. The way they deceived me. The way they used River as a tool in my training.

  They took everything from me.

  I believed he was dead, for so many years. For so long, I had nothing else but the thought of my revenge. And River knows this too well.

  “You were my only friend,” he tells me. “My first friend. Do you remember that, Javi?”

  “How could I ever forget?”

  “They took you away from me,” River says. “Ray took you away from me.”

  “I know.”

  “They tortured you too, Jav. Brainwashed you.”

  “I know,” I say again.

  “But what is the worst of his offenses?” he asks.

  I do not answer. Because I do not have to. River already knows.

  “Ray lied to you. He told you he believed you. But they chose you specifically, Jav. They turned you into a killer because they believed you were predisposed already. He tarred you with that brush, and he didn’t care if it was true or not. He made you what you are. He destroyed you.”

  I close my eyes, and Bella seems so far away.

  The rage is frothing inside of me, and River won’t stop.

  “They printed it right in your file, Jav. Those vile words about your mother. Have you forgotten so easily?”

  The flashbacks wrench me back in time, swallowing me whole.

  “Enough,” I say.

  But River does not listen. He speaks of my training with a level of detail that nobody else can. Because he is the only one who knows of my confessions. He speaks of the torture. The waterboarding. The burns. The mind games. The deceptions and punishments that followed.

  He speaks of the blood I spilled. Repeatedly. The tests. And I tell him to stop, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t stop until I have smashed the phone against the wall and red is the only thing that I see.

  Hatred. Rage. Hell.

  The door crashes against the wall from the force of my adrenaline. The vein in my neck throbs and my footsteps ricochet down the hall as I stalk towards the kitchen.

  She will be gone. She needs to be gone.

  I wait for the cool air. The air that will inevitably linger from the window where she has escaped. The breeze that will carry her scent as she runs fast and far away from this place. From me.

  I expect quiet. The peace that I desire so badly. But I do not find those things. Instead, I find my Bella, still at the kitchen stove, her eyes wide as she watches me come down the hall.

  “Javi?” she whispers.

  “Why are you still here?” I roar.

  She backs into the counter and hugs herself, shaking her head frantically, but no words leave her mouth.

  “You should have left when you had the chance!” I sneer.

  I chase her around the counter and grab her arm, and she pleads with me as I drag her from the room.

  “Javi, please. No, please. Whatever just happened, don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

  Her words fall on deaf ears.I block out everything around me and focus on the red. The pain. The revenge.

  I am no longer weak. Nothing can break me. Not even this girl and her trickery. This is what I tell myself. This is what I believe. Until she speaks again.

  “Javi,” she whispers. “Javi. I love you. Please. I love you.”

  I freeze. And I stare at her. This girl with the pale blue eyes, more venomous than even her father as she spills such lies from her lips.

  I tell her so, and she tries to deny it.

  “It’s true,” she says.

  Tears track down her cheeks. And this time they do not make me weak. They do not make me want to fuck her either. They fill me with wrath all over again.

  “You are a liar and a fool,” I tell her.

  “I am not a liar,” she cries. “I may be many things, Javi. But a liar is not one of them. I will prove it to you. I’ll do anything. Anything. Just tell me.”

  This time, I smile. And I feel like my old self again.

  “Anything?” I ask.

  “Anything,” she replies.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  JAVI TUGS me down the hall.

  In a matter of seconds, everything has shifted. He is dragging me back to the past. Back to the room of horrors. The room where his mother carved him up. Where he carved me up. Where everything is bad between us and nothing is good.

  This isn't where I want to go. But he asked me to prove myself. And I will. I will prove that it doesn't matter what he does to me.

  He will see.

  In the end, he will see that I am truthful. That I do love him. And my love for him is stronger than his rage. Stronger than his hurt and his fear and his vulnerability. I will break through those barriers if it's the last thing I do.

  So when he straps me down to the table, I do not resist. I remain silent, even as he stuffs my mouth with another gag and takes away every last shred of free will that remains in me.

  I do not cry. Even when he leaves the room. I do not feel ashamed when he comes to me the next morning and fucks my mouth and comes on my face.

  I do not feel dirty when he comes back again at night and fucks me in the ass and comes on me again. I do not resist when he makes me pee in front of
him and then restrains me once more.

  I do not protest that my stomach is hungry and I have not eaten or showered. And I do not feel sorry that he has turned me into a feral animal all over again. Coming and going as he pleases throughout the day, using me like a toy. Covering me in his come and then leaving it to dry. Calling me names while he fucks me. Lashing out and insisting that I will tell the truth soon enough. That I will break.

  But he is wrong. And it infuriates him that he is wrong. Because I do not break. Not even by the fourth day when I am truly disgusting.

  He does not fuck me again on this fourth day. Instead, he releases me and tells me to go clean myself up.

  He is too calm. Too silent. And I know something is not right. I expect the worst, the entire time I'm in the shower, scrubbing myself clean. Even when he tells me to get something to eat, I cannot. It only compounds my fear.

  He goes back to his office. The house is too quiet. But the storm that's brewing is loud. I can feel it. I can feel it in my bones. Something awful is about to happen.

  I saw it in his eyes.

  The chill. The conviction. He intends to break me. Just as he always said he would do. He said he would destroy me. It's what he set out to do. And perhaps I have been a fool to think that he has changed, even after everything. Perhaps I am the only one who feels.

  I don't have to wonder long. Because at nightfall, the bell on the door chimes again.

  I expect River. It's always River. Never anyone else. Nobody else comes to Moldavia.

  Nobody.

  But it is not River at the door tonight. The scent of her perfume assaults me first. And then I see her in all her beauty, standing coyly on the threshold when Javi greets her.

  This place is familiar to this woman. Javi is familiar to this woman. There is no doubt, she has had him before.

  He gestures her inside, and I rot on the inside. Agony paralyzes me as he leads her down the hall to his bedroom. There is no second thought about me.

  The door shuts with a resounding noise. My gut churns. My heart shrivels up and dies. And I was wrong. So, so wrong. Because Javi can still break me. He can still destroy me. He's done exactly that.

  At first, I am immobile. Unable to move or blink or even breathe. And then the restlessness takes over.

  I pace back and forth in the kitchen, frantic. Sick. My fingers quake and my head spins. I want to vomit. I want to scream. There are no tears. There is no sadness. I am captive to only one thing now.

  Undiluted rage.

  Hatred that burns so bright, I fear it will never be extinguished again. I can't control it. I can't deny it. The animal in me has taken the wheel.

  The animal in me is the one who grabs a knife from the wooden block on the counter. The animal in me is the one who walks down the corridor and heaves open his bedroom door, expecting the worst. Poised to kill. Poised to kill them both.

  But the woman in me sees only Javi, resting in a chair by the fire with a glass of whiskey in hand.

  My eyes scan the room, seeking to destroy. But she is not here. She is not anywhere. The animal doesn't care. She wants retribution, and she will have it.

  When Javi dares to look at me, I lunge for him, striking out at his chest. He grabs hold of my arm and halts the blade mid-swing.

  "What's the matter, pet?" he taunts.

  "I hate you!" I scream.

  I try to thrust the knife again. This time he doesn't stop me, and it glances off his chest.

  He's bleeding.

  But it isn't enough. Not when I see the cruel laughter in his eyes. The way he mocks me with his lips.

  "I thought you loved me," he sneers. "That's what you said. You said you would do anything. Anything to prove it."

  "Not that," I cry.

  And the tears are real now. Pain. So much pain. I feel like I've been punched in the heart.

  "Where is she?" I demand. "Who is she?"

  Javi snatches me by the throat and looks deep into my eyes. There was a time when my tears turned him on. A time when he liked to collect them like sweet memories. But now, they disgust him.

  I disgust him. With my feelings and my humanity and my love.

  "You never loved me," he snarls.

  "Fuck you," I choke out.

  He smiles. And it scares me more than any of his other smiles. Because there is nothing behind it. He is dead. He is without anything now.

  I don't know how it came to this. How everything changed so abruptly. Even as he drags me to the bed and tears off my clothes, I want to believe that there is hope. I want to believe all is not lost.

  This is just another temporary bout of insanity. But I should know by now. Everything Javi does leaves a permanent scar.

  He unbuttons his jeans and thrusts inside of me without warning.

  "Fucking liar," he chants.

  "You're the liar!" I scream. "You're pathetic. You can't even admit your own feelings. You can't even admit that you care for me."

  It's the wrong thing to say.

  He stops. And dread fills my stomach. I try to look back at him, but he presses my face into the bed. Then he takes his cock out and nudges it against my ass.

  I bite my lip to keep from crying out when he shoves inside. Now he wants my tears for a whole different reason. To punish me. But I won't give him the satisfaction. I won't let him see my pain. Not anymore.

  My strength only enrages him further as he grabs me by the hair and yanks.

  "You are nothing," he tells me. "Nothing!"

  To further prove his point, he reaches for a pillow and frees it from the case. And then he wraps the case over my head, so he doesn't have to look at me.

  He fucks me raw. Hard. Brutal. Neither one of us says a word.

  I cry silent tears behind the veil of the pillowcase, and he grunts out his frustrations before finishing inside of me. And when he is done, he pushes me away with one final parting blow.

  "Nothing."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  WHEN I WAKE, it is to the sound of the private phone line ringing.

  River.

  A glance at the clock confirms that it is three am, and I fell asleep at my desk. Drunk. I'm still drunk when I pick up the phone, and his words are not clear. That is my initial reaction.

  "Ray is back," I hear.

  "What?"

  My head throbs and my eyes burn.

  "Check your email."

  I rouse my computer from slumber. My inbox is filled with alerts.

  Ray Rossi has been found.

  Alive.

  My initial reaction should be relief. This is what I've been waiting for. Hoping for. The day has finally come. Ray is alive. And he will finally know the suffering I have inflicted upon his daughter.

  Upon Bella.

  River mumbles something from the other line, asking if I'm still there. I disconnect the call and stare at the screen.

  My gut churns. It's too soon. That's my only thought. It's too soon. I wasn't ready for this. I’m not ready to let her go. I tell myself that she hasn't been broken. That I need more time.

  But it's a lie.

  Because it does not matter what I did before. Nothing else matters. After tonight, she will never look at me the same way again. My Bella is as broken as broken can get.

  She has seen me for what I am. She has seen me at my worst. She has dared to hope. And her hope has turned to dust.

  I flip over to the house security screens and search for her in the dim light. She is not in my room. Or the conservatory. Or even her own room.

  I continue searching, and I do not find her in the piano room. Or the library. Or the kitchen. Or any room. Dread coils deep inside as I search them one by one again.

  Something is wrong. Something is off. She isn't anywhere.

  I leave my office and check the only places without cameras. The bathrooms. But they are empty too. I pace the halls and check the doors and windows.

  All locked.

  I can find no trace of her. Not one.
My mind conjures up the worst scenarios as I retrace her last steps.

  My bedroom is the same as I left it. The pillowcase is now on the floor, next to her panties. And her shoes.

  Her shoes.

  Next to the bed, the floor board is misplaced.

  The trap door. The same trap door I sent the prostitute through upon her arrival this evening. And I don't know how I missed it. How I could have been so careless.

  My Bella is so smart. So observant. It is too late. I fear it is too late. I have lost her forever.

  Following her scent, I descend into the passageway and find my way along the walls in the darkness. Waiting for a sound. A shadow. But there are none.

  When I reach the end, my worries are only compounded. The door is cracked, a sliver of moonlight spilling in from the outside. This is the way she left.

  It's almost four am now. I don't know how long she has been out here. I don't know if she found her way in the darkness. Flagged down a passing car on the old dirt road.

  What if someone took her? Someone worse than me?

  My chest caves in. There is nobody worse than me. That's what I'd like to believe. But for my Bella, there are others who could be worse. I have to find her. I have to get to her and...

  There is a footprint in the dirt.

  It's not right. She went the wrong way. She came out in the darkness and could not see the path to the road, so she unknowingly ventured deeper into the forest instead.

  I walk beside her footprints and retrace her steps. They are wild at first. She was running. But as the brush thickens, the footsteps disappear, and I have only broken twigs and bent leaves to rely on.

  I listen for her. My eyes seek out her hair, shining in the moonlight. I do not see it. Not after ten minutes. Not even after thirty. But the trail is still here. And so I keep going. I keep searching, hoping that my Bella is still here.

  After two hours, I still have not found her. And all traces of her disappear abruptly. There is nothing. But I am in the middle of the forest. It doesn't make sense.

  I stop, and I listen. And eventually, I hear something. The faintest of sobs from behind a tree.