by Jaden Wilkes
This man was not willing to die, but I was not willing to let him live after seeing what he’d done to my pet.
His cock hung loose as he tried to sidestep my punch. I connected with his jaw and heard it snap. I probably had about fifty pounds and a few inches on him. I looked down at his dick and thought more than a few, apparently.
I grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him across the floor to the sofa. I didn’t want arterial blood splatter to make the kill site so obvious, so I pushed him face down into the cushion and held him there as he struggled. Finally, desperate to get back to her, I drew my blade across his throat and bled him out like a fucking pig.
He jerked back, his hot red blood spattered from the wound, but he was too far-gone to move too much farther. He collapsed, face down on the couch.
It all took seconds to accomplish, but it felt like time had slowed down to me. I could chart each movement in my head and replay the scene as if it were a movie.
His cursing, threats, queries…they had all fallen on deaf ears. I hadn’t said a word as I’d finished him off.
She was still unconscious when I went to her. She stirred and moaned, her soft skin hot with the strain of her defense, and her thick, beautiful hair limp and wet. Her inner thighs were bruised and I could see bite marks all over her perfect body.
Her face might be broken, it was swollen and I couldn’t tell.
Her arm was bad, I suspected at least a fracture.
She was bleeding heavily and blood streamed down between her legs.
I wanted to weep, I wanted to tear at my hair and gouge my eyes to bring her back to her perfect state. I wanted to howl and scream and tear that fucking meat sack apart with my bare hands, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have time.
I carried her to the car and put her in the passenger seat. She moaned and almost slid to the floor, so I strapped her in with a couple cable ties to keep her from falling and to keep her from panicking and lashing out should she wake up when I was driving.
A few minutes from her shack, she started to cough and gag, like she was about to be sick. We were at a red light, so I reached over and touched her cheek. I was careful, she was so swollen, but still so beautiful my breath hitched when I told her to wake up.
She came too, woozy and disoriented. The light turned green so I started to drive again.
I finally asked her name, she said it was Ronnie, and I immediately disliked it. Makes her sound like a man-hating feminist dyke, and my Pet will not be a feminist. She said it was short for Veronica, but I decided Pet was more applicable anyways. Veronica sounds cheap, and my Pet isn’t cheap…not anymore.
Billy had been the name of the man who was now dead in their living room, sprawled on the sofa like a fucking pig. Billy, how appropriate, a stupid name for a shitbag.
He was a skin bag now, and she was mine.
I would have to be careful around her, it had been so long since I killed and I don’t want to harm her before I have a chance to show her how much I love her. I might have to hunt tonight, to relieve this build up of hunger before I could tend to her.
I knew I couldn’t leave her alone for long though, she was my drug and I needed to get my fix somehow.
I smiled as I drove through the city streets. It was almost dark and it had started raining. The lights took on an edgy brightness that almost hurt my eyes to look at them.
I realized something as I looked at her, passed out in the seat next to me.
My head wasn’t throbbing. This was the first time in weeks that it didn’t hurt. She really was my beautiful saviour, the bright flash of white in the darkness. She would save me and bring me in from the margins, keep me in the warm, safe center of things.
I couldn’t wait until she woke up and I could tell her.
Chapter Six
Ronnie
Arriving home from a shitastic day at the diner, I tossed my keys carelessly on the side table in the entrance ‘nook’ as I liked to call it.
There was no such thing as a ‘hall’ or ‘foyer’ in this crappy little one bedroom, 400 square foot, hovel where I lived. Billy had rented it before I could approve and I really had no say in the matter after he’d already finished signing the lease.
We were paying too much in rent and I dreamed of dumping this place and Billy, for that matter, and taking a new direction in life. Problem was that, in order to do so, I needed money, but couldn’t seem to find a hiding place to save it up where his alcohol deprived hands didn’t find it.
He was an asshole and I was the dumb woman who chose to stay with him.
Lucky me.
“Billy!” I called out, mostly hoping that there wouldn’t be a response. It wasn’t too early for him to be out drinking and probably fucking some stupid bitch, so there was hope that I had the house to myself.
He didn’t answer and an involuntary relaxation settled over my tired muscles. I wanted nothing more than a quiet bath to wash off the putrid stink of my day.
Slipping my body into the hot water, I thanked god that the only good thing about this place was the dual shower/bathtub arrangement. I’ve lived in other places that only had a small plastic standing shower before and I hated not having the ability to submerge myself when needed.
Just as I was admiring how my skin had pruned beneath the deliciousness of hot water, the walls in the apartment shook, signaling that Billy must have walked through the front door, slamming it as usual.
Groaning, I allowed my head to slide beneath the water hoping in vain that he’d pass out drunk on the couch and I could tiptoe into the bedroom for a decent night’s sleep. Sure, it was only five in the afternoon, but I didn’t feel like being groped and manhandled by an asshole that smelled like a blend of alcohol and the snatch of whatever bitch he’d been fucking around with that afternoon.
I felt the walls of the bathroom shake again, opening my eyes beneath the water to see it ripple above me from the vibration. A shadow hovered above me. A hand reached down, disturbing the surface of the water. My held breath came out in a rush of bubbles and I was lifted from the warm blanket of liquid, brought out to meet the harsh chill of the air.
Even the bite of cold against my skin couldn’t distract me from the intoxicated insanity I saw in Billy’s eyes.
The sound of my hair tearing from my head was only a momentary diversion from the burning pain that followed.
“Where the fuck is your money, Ronnie?”
My feet slipped on the plastic tub, the weight of my body slipping down as more pain rushed along my spine. I’d gone limp, knowing that fighting would only anger him more. But knowledge is funny like that. No matter how much your cognizant mind screams at you to submit, there is something else inside every person that yells louder telling you to fight.
I would not be made his victim.
“I don’t have any fucking money! You drank it all away, asshole!” Reaching up, I attempted to break his grasp on my hair.
His grip was too strong; years spent working in construction strengthening him before he quit to pursue a life of alcohol-fueled stupidity.
“You’re lying, Ronnie. I know you’re fucking lying. You went to work today, so I know there’s some fucking tip money you’re hiding from me.” Bloodshot eyes stared down at me as the stink of his breath rolled across my face. I dry heaved from the smell, the pain in my stomach now competing with the pain of being held up by my hair.
Billy’s eyes looked away from me to scout the bathroom floor and finally spotting my work uniform, he dropped me back into the bathtub. The crack of the plastic ledge against my skull blurred my sight in searing red pain as I sunk beneath the water’s surface.
My mouth opened in a silent scream, scant amounts of air tearing from my empty lungs. I pushed up on wobbly arms, my face breaking the surface so that I could drag in the oxygen I desperately needed. No sooner did I catch my breath before I heard Billy’s angry disappointment shouted through the steam filled room.
“Sixty fucking do
llars? You work all fucking day and that’s all you can bring home?” His fist met one side of my head at the same time the other side of my head met the wall. Sandwiched between the crunch of his fist and the crack of the wall, I reached out, my fingernails ripping off as I held onto the slippery plastic ledge, refusing to pass out to fall beneath the water.
Didn’t matter.
Even if I had drowned, it couldn’t have been worse than what came next.
Ripped from the tub, I fought against him, failing miserably because of the water drenching my skin. My feet slid uselessly over the tile floor and my hands were busy struggling to remove his fingers from my hair. Dropped again, a sharp burst of pain shot along my hip and down my leg.
Turning my head, I spotted the fifty lying on the floor that the gorgeous man at the diner had left me. The tip alone was bigger than what he owed for his food and I wondered if he’d actually intended to leave it or if it had been a mistake. I should have run after him to let him know, but I was too desperate for cash.
Cash that would only end up in Billy’s stomach, traveling though his kidneys and liver, causing damage before it was pissed into the toilet the following morning.
He leaned down, towering over me, his rank breath once again stealing my air. “What the fuck are you good for, bitch? You’re lucky I take care of you, lucky I don’t throw you the fuck out on the streets.” His steel-toed boot collided heavily with my stomach and my body was punted across the floor, slamming into the wall.
I shouldn’t have said a fucking word, but logic doesn’t always override the refusal to be abused inside me.
“Fuck you, Billy. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a fucking dime to live on. Take the fucking money and leave.”
He laughed. The asshole laughed as blood trickled down my chin. There had to be internal damage, but my pain was numbed by my anger. I watched crimson drops drip from my chin to the floor, thinking how pretty the color of my own death had become.
I knew he could kill me. And as drunk and stupid as he currently was, he probably would.
It’s not like I had anything to live for anyway. All I knew was I wouldn’t go down without taking a piece of him with me. When he reached for me again, I scraped the broken and jagged edges of my fingernails across his face, cutting into his flesh so that the crimson red of his own blood met mine.
No, asshole. You won’t walk away from this without my mark branded on your ugly mug. And the evidence beneath my nails would put you away if I didn’t walk away from this with my life.
However, as it turned out, that was a bad move on my part. It only pissed him off more.
With alcohol-thinned blood pouring like a fountain from his face, he grabbed my ankle, pulling me across the bathroom floor, not caring that the movement sent my body swinging out like a water skier behind a turning boat. Over the wake I went, the water on my skin granting me no friction against the smooth tile surface. My head, once again, crashed again the surface of something heavy, my vision blurring and my ears ringing from not only pain, but also my own bitter scream.
“You think I won’t make you pay for that, bitch? You think you can hurt me and get away with it?” He yelled like a madman hopped up on speed, his words slurring together, only clear to me because I’d heard them so many times before.
Once we’d made it to the living room, I’d been slammed against every wall we passed and a doorjamb. My head was throbbing, screaming at me to protect it, but the damage was already done. Waves of pain pulsed through me with each beat of my heart and I was only barely conscious when Billy picked me up, his fist hammering against my face three times before he threw me over the dirty and stained couch.
“Oh, yeah. You’re going to pay for this, bitch. You haven’t let me fuck you in over a fucking year and I’m taking what I’ve been paying for.”
Spitting blood from my mouth, I felt a loose tooth move with my tongue. Glancing back, I could only make out his fuzzy profile, but the belt he was pulling from his pants was recognizable still.
My father hit me with a belt when I was a child; my mother too. I would mouth off or steal food when I shouldn’t have. Whatever sin I’d committed was always met with the sting of leather across my hide. I hated the pain, the embarrassment of having my naked butt displayed to my parents while they delivered however many lashes they felt I deserved.
Looking back now, the sting of their thin leather belt was nothing compared to the force of Billy’s thick metal buckle, one of those stupid novelty types worn by cowboys or fools.
I’m not sure how many times he struck me. Instead of trying to count the strikes, I thought of the injuries they caused. One time for each kidney, three times over the ribs of my back. My head cracked open a bit more when the buckle struck there and the backs of my legs took the next beating when I could no longer hold a defensive position. Over and over and over…ceaselessly delivered without mercy or concern.
I could barely breathe or move without causing myself more pain. So, by the time he grabbed my ankles again and when he pulled me across the couch, spreading my legs to position himself behind me, I didn’t fight. This would be one more insult added to the injury he’d already inflicted.
I thought he would just fuck me and move on. But what he did next made it clear he didn’t intend for me to live.
Wrapping the belt around my neck, he looped the end through the buckle, pulling tight so that I couldn’t breathe.
“Now, bitch, I’m going to ride you like the little whore you are.”
He pulled tight, using the belt on me like it was the reins on a horse. I choked and coughed, grunting and bleeding like a stuck pig.
I heard his pants hit the floor and the bastard couldn’t even take the time to lube me up before shoving himself inside. My body jerked forward every time he thrust in, my face scraping across the fabric of the couch, my skin burning from the friction. He slapped me on the ass, hollering out “Woo Hoo!” and “Fuck Yeah!” like he’d achieved 8 seconds on the back of a bucking bull.
The only thing missing from this scene was the blasting music of a radio with something loud and angry to cover my cries.
Guess it wasn’t needed. His free hand came down, shoving my face so far into the cushions that it muted every noise I made. Head forced forward and the belt pulled back and I fought for my last breath as he slipped his dick into an even tighter crevice of my body.
My body shook, its last rattled attempt to live before the convulsion took me miles away. Closing my eyes, I gave into the weightless escape of death, floating off to a place where Billy’s hands couldn’t touch me again.
Pity that it should end this way, especially considering there was no person alive who would mourn my loss.
I had no one.
I was no one.
But I did have one thing.
I had pride…because I didn’t go down without a fight.
***
“Wake up.”
A palm patted me softly against the cheek, but even the tender touch was too painful against my skin.
“Open your eyes and wake up.”
I didn’t recognize the voice and wondered if God himself was waking me on the other side. But if I was dead, why did I still hurt?
Cracking my eyes open as much as I could, I turned my head towards the direction of the voice. All I saw was the black silhouette of a body, backlit by flashing strobes of light. I could feel that we were moving and I heard the purr of an engine.
“Who are you?” I squeaked out over a torn throat and busted lips.
He chuckled. “Seems you’re a bit smarter than me. I hadn’t thought of asking that exact question every time I saw you.” His hand reached out to caress over my hair. “I’ll fix that now. Who…are you?”
“Ronnie.” Coughing, I struggled to talk, not even sure of the identity of the man to whom I was talking.
Tsking, he removed his hand from my head. “How unfortunate. Is that short for something else?”
; Coughing again, I spit out, “Veronica.”
“Bit long. I’m not sure which one I loath more.”
The oddity of his statement didn’t sink in when I turned my head to the other side. I was in a seat. There was some form of a strap over me and flashing strobes of light flared in at me from a window
Time passed as I wondered how I wasn’t dead.
Finding the strength to speak again, I asked, “Where’s Billy?”
A soft chuckle responded followed by a moment of silence.
“Go back to sleep, Pet. You don’t have to worry about Billy ever again.”
Chapter Seven
Ronnie
I hurt.
Badly.
Soft light shone across my face and I could see it from beneath my closed eyelids. Waking up, I attempted to move, but my body protested with hot bolts of pain running along my arms and legs.
My pulse pounded in my head, the ache of my skull sharp and relentless.
I attempted to crack my eyes open, but couldn’t budge them more than a sliver. My thoughts moved back to Billy, to memories of what he’d done the night before.
I’d lived through it again…somehow. It was mornings like this, however, when I would wake up more upset that Billy hadn’t accidentally killed me than I was happy to be alive.
I must have gone to bed afterwards, most likely after he’d taken the sixty from the bathroom and left to go waste it on another long night drinking.
I couldn’t push myself up and it hurt too much when I attempted to roll over. I had to be at work today and I grew concerned that I would have to call out. There was no way I’d be able to wait tables in a condition like this.
A small pain shot through my heart when I thought that perhaps that nice man would show up again and I wouldn’t be there to serve him or talk to the only decent person I’d met in a while.
Breathing out heavily I realized it didn’t matter. He couldn’t be interested in me. He was everything I wasn’t. Rich, sophisticated and polished. He stuck out amongst a crowd, was the type to call attention by his powerful stride, his obvious confidence and his unbearable beauty.
