Ultimate Sin

by Clarissa Wild

  “About anything?”

  “Anything. This world, these people, all of it, including me.”

  “Even you …” I repeat.

  It might seem silly to some, but no one’s ever given me the explicit consent to feel and think whatever I want. It feels like he’s handed me one of the most treasured gifts in the world.

  “Thank you, Marcus.”

  He pulls me aside, grabbing both my arms, and looks straight into my eyes. “Don’t thank me for giving you something you should’ve been allowed to do all along.”

  I nod.

  “You asked me why I’m doing this … It’s because I want to see you become the real you.”

  “The real me?”

  He points at my chest over my heart with his finger. “The you that you were meant to be. The one you were never allowed to let out. I want you to be part of this world again. Like a person. Not like a servant.”

  “Me? Not a servant? But what else would I be?”

  “The same as me.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh no, I could never be on equal grounds with someone as wonderful as you, Marcus.”

  He grabs my face, gazing intensely into my eyes. “You can. You only have to believe that you are.” His thumb brushes my cheek, filling me with warmth and affection toward him, which grows with every passing second. “And if I believe you can do it … then you can too. One day, you’ll see it and be able to accept it. Trust me.”

  “Okay …”

  “Good. Now, let’s continue shopping,” he says, finishing with a smile as if it’s the cherry on top.

  As we turn and make a left to cross the nearest street, something at the other side grabs my attention. A dark figure walking from left to right, oblivious to his surroundings, with the exception of me. Boots that make a ka-ching sound with every step he takes, the noise awakening a primal need to flee. When his eyes settle on mine, the ice cream drops from my hand, and I shudder in fear.

  “What’s wrong?” Marcus asks.

  I shiver and my lips part, but no sound other than squeaky noises comes out. I feel trapped in my own body, frozen in place, as the man who haunts my very nightmares sets foot on the same road I walk.

  My first instinct is to run.

  So I turn around and bump into Marcus, who was standing right behind me. I’d forgotten he was there.

  He grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me a little. “What do you see?”

  A trembling finger rises, the last attempt of my body to fight the trauma that has occurred and protect itself from more to come.

  Marcus follows my finger, and then suddenly, he picks me up in his arms and makes a U-turn. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even look at me, as he carries me all the way back to the car and sets me down on the backseat closing the door behind me. Then he walks around the car and gets in too.

  As he sits down beside me, my whole body is shivering, my brain in complete survival and panic mode all at the same time.

  “Drive,” Marcus growls at the driver.

  “Where to, Sir?”

  “I don’t care where; just get us out of here!” he growls.

  He puts his arm around me as the car starts and pulls out of the parking lot.

  However, nothing can stop the horrible memories from resurfacing. The image that constantly appears on my retina, of a man with eyes as black as the night coming to take me after killing my parents, keeps me silent.

  Keeps me in place.

  Keeps me from wanting to seek out the world ever again.

  And as I lean against Master Marcus, his hands pulling me closer and his whispers softly shushing me, I realize there is nowhere else I’d rather be than in his arms.

  The only place I’ll ever be at home.

  10

  Marcus

  Too late did I realize what she’d seen in Portland.

  I picked her up, brought her to my car, and we drove straight back to the helicopter with which we flew home. But it wasn’t in time.

  The encounter with one of the men who took her terrified her so much she even peed her pants. I found out when I picked up her soaked panties from the bathroom floor. I immediately put her under a shower and promised her she would never have to see him again.

  God, I can’t believe he was there. It’s like a cruel twist of fate. Just when I was about to show her how good it could be to live like a normal human being, he had to ruin everything. The mere sight of him made her tremble. Only when I saw the terror in her eyes did I realize the extent of her trauma.

  She’s not prepared for this.

  I thought I could take her out there, into the real world, but as long as her enemies live, she will never feel totally safe. She will not feel at home with me as long as those who hurt her are still alive.

  Which is why I must do everything in my power to change that fact.

  I slam my head against the door. It was stupid to bring her there, to go shopping and have ice cream, pretending everything is normal when it’s not. I should’ve realized it was too soon. Her physical scars may heal quickly, but her mental scars take so much time to mend.

  It’s a shame because she seemed so happy to see these new things. To be able to wear new clothes and eat new foods must’ve been like discovering China for her. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like, which is why I wanted her to experience it all. And then that fucker ruined everything.

  I make a fist with my hand and punch the wall. If I want her to feel safe and get better, it’s time to take matters into my own hands.

  I turn around to face her shivering, naked, and scarred body. “I know what you saw. That man … who was he and what did he do to you?”

  “He … he … was one of the men who took me from my home and …”

  I step closer and place my hand on her shoulder. I don’t give a damn if my jacket gets wet; I just want her to know I’m here for her. “What did he do?”

  “I was so young … I barely remember, but I was brought to a motel room before they took me to my first Master.”

  “What happened that made you so upset?” I ask, searching her teary eyes.

  “In that motel … when the bald one had gone to buy something, the other one with the cowboy boots tied me to the bed, and … he … he …” She lowers her eyes to the tub and closes her legs, sniffling.

  “Don’t tell me he …”

  Fuck no.

  “I was so young …” she mutters again.

  Stumbling backward, I succumb to the hatred that rushes through me.

  It can’t be. That motherfucker took her innocence?

  “I couldn’t … I wasn’t prepared.” She gazes at me with starry, perfectly ruined eyes, at which point I realize … I’m going to murder the son of a bitch.

  ***

  Two days later

  I double check my surroundings before I go to the building, making sure no one’s watching. After I press the doorbell, I wait until he opens the door, and when it does, I have a gun pointed straight at the guy’s head.

  “Whoa, what the fuck?” he mutters.

  “Get inside,” I growl, stepping forward so he’ll have to move.

  “Jesus Christ,” he shouts, walking backward, almost stumbling into a small table.

  I slam the door shut behind me while keeping my gun aimed at his forehead. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same damn thing!” he yells. “How do you know where I live?”

  “I followed you here. Yeah, we’ve been keeping an eye on you all right. Your boots are kinda hard to miss, and you’ve been visiting the same bar for the last two days.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “I have my sources, and it’s none of your damn business,” I snap, tightening the grip on my gun.

  His hands are in the air. “Hey man, put that gun down, we can talk.”

  “Answer the question!”

  “I couldn’t find another place to live, all right? Jesus, no need to be so upt
ight.”

  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Fuck you,” he says with a frown. “You don’t get to tell me shit.”

  “Lie down on that table,” I growl, ignoring his taunt.

  “Why? What are you gonna do? Wanna shoot me? Go ahead.”

  I shoot him in the arm, and he cries out in pain. “Fuck! You shot me? You fucking shot me! I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Jesus Christ.”

  “That was a warning. Now, lie down on that table or I’ll put a bullet in your nuts.”

  “Okay, okay,” he says, walking toward the table. He sits down on top and slides onto it awkwardly, his face contorting with the pain. “What’s your problem, man? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Bullshit and you know it. Lie down!”

  He does what I say after I point the gun at his nuts.

  “I’m down, I’m down!” he repeats.

  I take the bag off my shoulders while keeping my gun pointed at him and rummage through it until I find a few ropes.

  “What the fuck are you planning? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “No, the exact opposite,” I muse, and I hand the ropes to him. “Tie your legs to the table.”

  “What? Why would I do that?”

  “Just do it!” I scream, my gun never wavering.

  “All right, all right.” He starts tying the rope around his legs but not fast enough. Every passing second is another one I’d rather see him burn in hell.

  “Just tell me why,” he says. “C’mon, you at least owe me that.”

  “I owe you nothing! You’re a fucking scumbag,” I spit.

  “Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?”

  “Shut up, or I swear to God, I’ll put a bullet in your fucking dick,” I growl. “Now, hurry up before I lose my temper.”

  He continues tying himself, even though his face remains twisted as if he’s trying to tell me without words that he does not agree with this. As if he refuses to admit to himself what he did. Well, fuck him. He deserves every bit of pain that’s coming for him.

  When he’s done tying his legs, I check them and then tie his hands to the table too.

  “What are you going to do with me?” he asks.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  When I’m done and he’s secured, I go to his kitchen and grab the biggest steak knife I can find. The moment I bring it into his sight, he cowers in fear.

  “Oh, God …” he whimpers as I place the gun between his legs, pointed straight at his dick.

  “Because of you, I now have to break one of my cardinal rules. It’s your fault this is happening … you drove me to do this.”

  “Oh, God, no. Please, have mercy.”

  “Mercy? You’re begging for mercy when you couldn’t give any to the girl?”

  His eyes widen, recognition flashing in his eyes.

  “No, no, no! Please!” he screams as I hold the knife near his neck, threatening to slice him. “I’m sorry. I was stupid. It should have never happened.”

  “Damn right, it shouldn’t have,” I growl.

  With one simple push against the trigger, I blow his balls off. I couldn’t help myself.

  He screams in agony, blood rushing from what is now a gaping hole between his legs. “Fuck, fuck! You fucking shot my balls! God, fuck!”

  “Yes, pray to God, motherfucker … because you’re gonna need it.”

  He screams as I stab the knife into his chest.

  “Rot in hell for what you did to her!” I growl.

  I thrust the blade into his eager flesh, again and again, until his blood squirts out and onto my face, and even then, I continue. I don’t stop until the cut is big enough for my hand to enter his body. His squeals fill the room as I plow through, blood pouring out of him as if he’s a cow at the slaughterhouse. He deserves nothing less.

  “This is the price you pay for taking what didn’t belong to you,” I hiss close to his face as he coughs up blood, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

  With my bare hands, I tear into his body. And then I rip out his heart.

  One quick pull is all it takes to end the life he’s been given and hold his no longer beating heart in my hand. With contempt, I look at it, the disgusting red flesh a sight to behold. This small, little organ has so much power … and it’s so easily taken away.

  I once made a promise to myself that I would never kill again. Guess I couldn’t keep my promise after all.

  Blood drips down the table, pooling on the floor, but I don’t care. I gaze out the window and look at the dog in the yard. It’s his dog. Or at least, it was. It looks malnourished, precisely how I expected it to be.

  So I open the window and drop the heart for his hearty meal.

  Wiping my bloody hands on one of his towels, I fish my phone out of my pocket and dial a number I haven’t had to dial in a long, long while.

  “Yes?”

  “I need a cleaner.” I tell him the address.

  “Of course, Sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  I tuck the phone back in my pocket and make my way to the door.

  I don’t even look back once at the mutilated body lying on the table.

  Two reasons.

  One … I hate him.

  Two … Never look back or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

  11

  Marcus

  With a raging headache, I make my way home after I’ve confirmed the cleaners have arrived. They take care of the body and discard any evidence. No one will know what happened there … except me. I won’t forget this anytime soon.

  His blood is still on my hands as my chauffeur drives me to the helicopter pad. I’ve never felt dirtier before as I open the door.

  “Clean the car today, please. It’ll need some work done on the inside.”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  I get out and go to the helicopter with which I fly back home.

  Looking over the treetops has never been more upsetting and calming at the same time. I’m worried about what Ava will say if she sees me. I should take a shower and rid myself of these bloodstained clothes. Better yet, burn it all.

  I’m disgusted, yet I feel an awful amount of pride bubbling up to the surface. I shouldn’t feel good about breaking my promise, and I definitely shouldn’t feel good about killing someone … but it feels so damn good.

  ***

  Ava

  I’m cleaning the house as I’ve done for the past few days when Master Marcus finally returns from his trip. He refused to tell me where he was going and he didn’t mention when he’d be back, so the moment I see his face, I light up like a Christmas tree.

  “Master, you’re back!” I say, making a bow.

  He drops his bag on the floor and immediately goes toward the sink in the kitchen, not even pausing to look at me. He turns on the faucet and repeatedly scrubs his hands, scraping his skin.

  “What’s wrong, Master?” I ask, stepping closer. “Did something happen?”

  The water in the sink is dark and red.

  Is that what I think it is?

  He turns off the faucet, shakes his hands, and immediately goes to his bedroom.

  He refuses to answer, so I follow him, wanting to help him, but when I try to take his coat from him, he won’t let me. “Don’t,” he growls.

  “I … only want to help.”

  “I know.” He sighs.

  Only when his coat drapes off him do I notice all the bloodstains on his shirt. My eyes widen. “Oh, my God. That’s blood.”

  “It’s fine,” he says, quickly ridding himself of all the dirty clothes, but I can’t un-see this.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask, quickly grabbing them off the floor and tucking them in a basket.

  “No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, please,” he says, still not looking me in the eye.

  I wonder what happened and if it’s his blood or someone else’s. Nowhere on his chest do I see a wound, but
it could be on his legs or anywhere else. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says, holding his head down as he walks into his bathroom. “Just … go on with whatever you were doing.”

  Something’s wrong, and I have the sense he’s hiding it from me.

  “No,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. It’s been a long time since I defied a Master.

  “No?” He frowns. “Go to work.”

  “Let me help you, Master.” I grab his belt buckle, trying to undo it for him, but he grabs my wrists.

  “No. I don’t want your help.”

  “I’m here for you, Master. Why won’t you let me help you?”

  His grip on my wrists is strong as he leans closer. “Because I’ve done something bad, okay? I don’t fucking deserve it, and I don’t want to involve you.”

  I nod softly, although I don’t entirely understand. “What did you do then, if I may ask?”

  “I took care of a problem.” He grabs my chin and caresses me softly, his thumb briefly brushing the top of my lip. “That man with the boots is gone. He won’t ever bother you again.”

  “What?” I stammer. “What did you do, Master?”

  The blood.

  His reluctance to tell me.

  “Like I said … you don’t wanna know. Trust me.” He releases me from his grip and turns around.

  It all hits me at once.

  “You … Killed him?”

  He glances over his shoulder, his lips parting, but then closing again. He walks into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, leaving me with an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

  I know he told me to continue my work, but the urge to talk to him is too strong. If it’s true that he killed him … I want to know why. He said I should listen to my feelings and that it was okay to ask questions … So here’s to a leap of faith.

  Opening the bathroom door, I peer inside, only to see him completely naked. Fumes from the hot shower fill the room, but they don’t cover his muscular body as he leans against the wall, face buried in his arms, water cascading down his back like rain pouring out of the sky. Only now do I notice the two black stars adorning his back.