SinfulTruth

by Regina Cole

  Until he started moving.

  He took my lips in a masterful kiss, lips, teeth and tongue playing me like the master he was. I clung to him, unable to fight the feelings he stirred. He stretched me, filled me so deeply. My willing body eased his way and his movements quickened, the soft, wet sounds of our motion greeting my ears. In the blackness that covered my eyes, I held on to the sound, hoping with everything inside me that this was real. Pleasure this deep had to exist.

  He pounded his thick cock into me, my muscles gripping both him and the dildo below. Out of my mind with intense pleasure, I cried out into his mouth as he cupped and squeezed my breasts. The peak he’d deprived me of for so long was nearing again, building low in my belly from his quick, surging thrusts, the rolling pressure he placed on my nipples, the hot press of his lips to mine.

  He rose, almost reading my mind as he reached between our joined bodies and pressed my aching, swollen clit.

  The wave of pleasure overtook me, wrenching the orgasm from my deepest recesses. His thrust matched my cries, deep, long and hard. My pussy clenched, my inner muscles shuddering and gripping him, drawing him deeper.

  He grabbed my arms and released himself inside me. The white-hot jets of his orgasm seemed to burn me, a deep sensation more pleasure than pain. His thrusts slowed, becoming uneven as he groaned in ecstasy.

  Our bodies spent, he stilled. Only a moment later, he rolled to the side, leaving my warmth too soon. The glass dildo slid out and I was empty save for the new wetness between my thighs. The dull thud of his feet hitting the floor sounded, the bed jostled and then it stilled.

  I trembled, the darkness of the blindfold suddenly frightening. I sat up and reached behind my head, my shaking fingers fumbling with the knot. The room was silent. Where was Verum? Surely he’d not left me. I wasn’t able to speak. It was too much. The pleasure, the uncertainty…

  The knot finally gave way and when I removed the black silk from across my eyes, I was sitting on my own bed, surrounded by my pale-blue bedroom, weak morning sunlight streaming through the window. Verum was nowhere to be seen.

  “What the hell?” I said when I found my voice. “Verum! Where are you?”

  My voice echoed through the empty house. No one was there.

  I staggered into the bathroom and stared in the mirror. My lips were swollen and red. My blonde hair was mussed, sticking out in several directions. Both my collarbone and my breasts bore reddened areas, presumably from Verum’s beard as he’d kissed my skin. The skin between my thighs was still wet, an undeniable sign I’d not dreamed what happened between us.

  “Verum?” After pulling my robe from the hook behind the door, I slipped it on as I stepped into the hallway.

  A shiver went through me as I padded barefoot through the house, searching for the tall, beautiful man with the oddest eyes I’d ever seen. He was nowhere to be found.

  Separating the blinds, I looked out the front window. A gasp of horror escaped me.

  The dead woman’s head was on my front-porch swing, eyes bugged open in frozen terror.

  Chapter Four

  I backed away from the window, biting my fist so the screams wouldn’t escape. If that first cry of terror ripped from my throat, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

  Think, Bryerly. Think. You witnessed a murder last night. A key piece of evidence is dripping blood on your front porch. You need to call the police. Right now.

  Thankful that at least a tiny portion of my brain seemed to be functioning, I ran into the living room and grabbed the cordless phone. As my frantic fingers dialed, I was grateful I’d never made the decision to eliminate the landline. My cell, after all, had been left in Rafe’s car the night before.

  Emergency services picked up on the second ring.

  “911, what is your emergency?” The man’s nasal voice was completely bored.

  “There’s a dead woman’s head on my front porch,” I said shakily.

  “What?” He perked up a little. Not much but a little.

  “There is a severed head on my porch swing. I saw her being murdered last night in the woods and now her head is on my swing.” The remembered terror wrenched tears from my eyes and they flowed unchecked as I gripped the phone.

  I had to explain it to him three times before he agreed to send a unit to check it out. He admonished me at least twice that many times about abusing the emergency line and how much trouble I could get into for prank calling. It was difficult not to scream hysterically at him but I kept myself as calm as possible.

  “Send someone out here now, please. I’m not kidding or lying. I need help.”

  “They’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said sourly. “Have a nice day.”

  The line went dead and I stared at the phone, completely stunned at the man’s apathy. Replacing the handset on the cradle, I swallowed the anxiety and confusion that threatened to completely overtake me.

  Pacing across the living room to burn through my abundant adrenaline, I tried to make heads or tails of the night before. No matter what angle I approached it from, it didn’t make sense. Rafe killed a woman? He chased me and I was rescued by a complete stranger with an odd name and even odder eyes? I’d had incredible sex with the man after he saved me? No. None of it made the least bit of sense. I was grateful when a car’s engine hummed in the driveway, eliminating the endless, circling thoughts.

  Footsteps thumped on my front porch, accompanied by deep male voices. Police. Finally. I threw open the heavy oak door and reached for the brass handle of the glass storm door. When I looked up at the officers, my grateful smile froze on my lips.

  Ronald Julius Granger. Born 1959 to an alcoholic mother who’d slept around at a party. Lied, cheated, stole money for drugs from his closest friends, went to rehab with no intention of getting clean. Regularly took bribes from criminals to keep them free. Lusted after the seventeen-year-old who lived beside him. Cornered her one day. Threatened her life if she told anyone about the rape.

  Larry Carlton Howard. Born 1967 to a jealous mother and an entitled father. Abused as a child, beaten, demeaned. Bullied other students in both middle and high school. Sodomized one of the quietest girls in school on a dare. Ran a dog-fighting ring on the side since he joined the police force. Took pleasure in the pain and death of the animals. Beat his wife regularly, even while she was pregnant. Now that their son was nearly four, had started beating him as well.

  I slammed the door and shakily threw the deadbolt. The wall bled cold through my robe as I slumped against the wall. How the hell do I know these things? What’s wrong with me?

  “Miss?” One of the men knocked loudly. “It’s the police. Open up.” His voice was firm but not cruel.

  Maybe I’d been imagining things. They were police, the good guys, here to help. I had to open up so they could help me.

  Taking a deep breath, I twisted the deadbolt again. The door squeaked softly as it parted ways with the jamb.

  Their voices pierced my skull, loud and clear without any sound my ears could detect.

  She’s alone. She’ll be a nice addition.

  Should we share her or take her to the others first?

  We should take her now. What the others don’t know helps us.

  The tiny crack I’d opened closed instantly, the deadbolt thrown home again. I darted into my bedroom, looking frantically for a place to hide. Their thoughts had been as easy to hear as if they’d spoken aloud. They were going to kill me. Or rape me. Either way, it wasn’t something to stick around for.

  I yanked up the blinds of my bedroom window and reached for the lock but then a blue-uniformed policeman walked around the corner. Larry. I saw myself through his mind’s eye, on my knees, begging him to spare me. He grinned before he shot me in the head.

  The blinds slid to the sill and I collapsed on the side of my bed with a silent, desperate cry. What do I do?

  My mother, the only relative I’d ever had, was dead. My stepfather, who’d beaten her regularly, was still around but
I’d rather kill myself than ask him for help. My coworkers were a town away, a full thirty-minute drive without traffic. Rafe was insane and probably still after me himself.

  A name popped into my head, one I hadn’t thought of in what felt like forever. Donna. My neighbor, who’d been friends with my mother a long time ago. We hadn’t spoken in years but maybe she’d be willing to help me.

  I ran as quietly as I could into the living room, ragged, terrified sobs building in my chest. The crack of shattering glass startled me as I dialed the third digit of Donna’s number. The phone clattered to the polished wooden floor and I whirled with a scream.

  The front door shuddered as the sound came again. They were breaking into my house. I had to get out now. I couldn’t wait for help.

  The bathrobe billowed out behind me as I ran to the kitchen, tears of panic tracking down my numb cheeks. Only one thought possessed my brain and that was to get away as fast as I could. I threw open the back door with a bang, barely registering the shock of the cold brick against my bare feet as I ran down the steps to the patio. The frantic pounding of my heart made it hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to think.

  Survive, my brain screamed. Get out. I made for the tree line behind my house, wanting to hide like a frightened woodland creature. The shouts behind me came as I neared the second line of trees.

  “Stop her, Larry, don’t let her get away,” Ronald yelled, deepening his voice to a boom. Sticks and brambles slowed me, tearing into the tender flesh of my feet. I chanced a glance over my shoulder when the sounds behind me died away. There was no sign of my pursuers.

  I didn’t slow until my breath burned like fire in my lungs. Slumping against a young oak, I drew in oxygen in great big gulps. Thoughts swirled around me, threatening to drown me.

  Why hadn’t they helped me?

  Why did Rafe leave that woman’s head for me to find?

  Why had I known all those things about the policemen? How did I read their thoughts?

  My fist curled in on itself and I banged it on the solid young trunk. Things were too weird, too frightening. Figuring things out could wait until later. Now I had to get out.

  I waited in the woods for a long time, huddling in my bathrobe to keep out the chill. Every time the wind rustled a leaf or a dead twig fell, I jumped, my heart pounding, tensing myself to run. After several hours, my bare feet were numb, my knees were cramped and I couldn’t wait anymore.

  My legs protested as I stood but I ignored them, cutting through the woods to the left, aiming for my neighbor Donna’s house. Those cops had to be gone by now. I’d tell Donna I was in trouble, try to borrow some clothes from her and get the hell out of town. Survival was my only goal. Justice could come later. I crept through the woods as silently as I could, my cut and bruised bare feet treading softly over the damp leaves. My vision swept right and left, searching for any threat. Only softly waving branches in the afternoon breeze met my worried gaze.

  As the trees thinned, Donna’s singlewide mobile home became visible. She’d lived there as long as I could remember. My mom and I had gone over to visit her a few times. Donna, who’d been a good ten years younger than my mother, was drunk more often than not but my mother didn’t seem to care. They’d talked and laughed and I’d played on the rickety deck attached to the home, pretending I was captaining a barge on a river.

  That same grayed-out, splinter-covered deck creaked as I gingerly stepped on it. I kept my arms wrapped firmly around my middle, both to keep my bathrobe in place and to offer my core some much-needed warmth.

  “Donna?” I called softly as I knocked on the yellowed plastic door. “Are you there?”

  No answer.

  My stomach knotted with dread as I knocked again. “Donna?”

  A flapping movement caught the corner of my vision. The bathroom window was open. The ragged screen hung askew and stained, brownish-splattered yellow curtains fluttering in the soft breeze.

  “Oh no,” I whispered. The last thing in the world I wanted was to look in that window but I had no choice. As I drew closer, a sharp, coppery scent mixed with something foul hit my nostrils. I clapped a hand to my mouth and nose, rose on my tiptoes and looked through the window.

  She’d been mauled. Her body was ripped open where it lay on the cracked linoleum, displaying a mix of crushed tissue. Whitish bone splinters littered the remains of her chest, the only evidence her rib cage had once been whole. The contents of her belly were strewn over the bathroom floor, ropes of intestines decorating the tiny room like macabre birthday streamers. But the worst of the damage was confined to her lower belly. It was completely emptied of blood and tissue and the bumps of her spine were easily visible. Some of her organs were completely gone.

  Frozen in the horror of what I was seeing, I couldn’t avoid Donna’s memory. It came firing at me like the bullet that had pierced her heart.

  Larry and Ronald stood over Donna, who’d been so drunk she hadn’t even tried to stop them. They’d shot her in the chest and cut her open while she still breathed. They took turns kneeling in her hot, pooling blood, their oddly sharp teeth tearing into her lower belly. They were not only killing her, they were eating her internal organs while she still lived. The agony wasn’t dulled enough by the alcohol. Burning pain enveloped her until she was completely consumed.

  I staggered away, turned and vomited over the side of the deck. Sick. They were seriously fucking sick. They’d done the same thing Rafe and Davis had to that grocery store clerk in the woods. Why was this happening? And why was I able to see the horrific act through Donna’s eyes?

  As I stood draped over the rickety railing, staring at the splatter of my vomit on the too-long grass, a memory of the night before lanced into my brain.

  How do you know all that? I’ve never told anyone about those things.

  Because I am the Truth Keeper.

  Truth Keeper. The price I agreed to pay. He never told me.

  “Verum.” Gripping the wooden rail, I moaned his name to the silent trees. “What have you done to me, Verum?”

  My voice echoed, rough, panicky and thin. It was the only sound until a hoarse sob escaped my chest. I sank down on the deck, my shaking legs buckling under my weight.

  Bryerly, pull yourself together. You’ve got to move. You’ve got to get out of here.

  Dashing the desperate tears away, I put my brain to work.

  No purse, no cell, no keys. Rafe has them all. I never learned how to hotwire a car. Can I really go home after the way they chased me from it this morning? What if they’re waiting for me?

  I struggled to my feet, a determined set to my chin. I’d have to chance running into the cannibalistic policemen again. It was the only way out of his hellhole.

  My footsteps were confident but the fear in my heart nearly stole my breath. I rounded the corner of the lot and broke through a gap in the hedge, setting my sights on home. A cold wind whipped my robe around my bare legs and I staggered backward with a gasp.

  Rafe, Davis, the two cops and my stepfather Harold stood in a circle by my kitchen door. At the panicked sound that escaped my lips, they turned as one.

  Each of their faces was stained red with blood.

  My feet pounded the earth before my brain even told them to move. Images assaulted me as I ran through the hedge toward Donna’s front yard. Bloodstained snapshots of Rafe and Davis from the night before. Further pictures of poor Donna and her death at the hands of the policemen. And from my stepfather, the cruelest vision of all—my mother’s beautiful, delicate features frozen in a mask of panic as he strangled her.

  “Verum,” I shrieked as the thundering footfalls grew louder behind me. “Verum, please help me!”

  The men cursed as they came closer, their angry shouts promising pain. Panic welled in my mouth, my muscles screaming in protest as my brain whipped them even faster. I couldn’t keep this up. I had zero chance of escaping barefoot while five crazed murderers chased me. I kept my eyes glued on the road only a hund
red yards away, desperately ignoring the urge to look over my shoulder. I’d get to the road and a car would be passing by and they’d have to stop to help me. I could do it. I had to keep going…

  A large body crashed into my lower back and arms wrapped around my waist, tackling me to the ground. I kicked and thrashed, digging my fingers into the dirt to give me purchase but he was too strong. And then another body crashed on top of mine, knocking the wind from me.

  Fear. Anger. Hate. Murder. Pain. Lies. Rape. Their horrible thoughts and past deeds assaulted me, tripling the pain their striking arms and kicking feet brought. They pulled the robe from me, their blood-slicked fists thudding into my flesh. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The swirling truths were too much to take.

  “Verum, please,” I mouthed with no sound as they pinned me to the bloodstained earth. “I’ll pay your price.”

  A white flash covered my eyes and the world exploded again.

  Chapter Five

  I lay at the foot of the purple globe, naked, bruised and bleeding. Wincing, I carefully shoved myself upright. Verum’s bedchamber hadn’t changed but he was nowhere to be found. My breathing was ragged in the near-silent room and I crawled toward the hearth, anxious to be near the flickering heat of the fire.

  “Bryerly.”

  I whirled. Verum stood by the end of the bed, completely shrouded in his robes once again. I struggled to my feet, doing my best to cover my breasts and mound. He made no move to help me.

  “What have you done to me?” My whisper was ragged and full of tears. “Did you do something to Rafe? To those cops? Is all this your fault?”

  Verum shook his hooded head slowly.

  “Then explain what’s happening. Please. They killed that woman last night, they killed my neighbor and they would have killed me if you hadn’t brought me here. I need some answers.” I wished I could have demanded them of him but my fear was so deep that it came out beseeching. Confusion, hurt at his abandonment and stark terror warred for the upper hand in my chest.