by Terry Towers
I’d slip in, grab the kit and then get out.
Content with my decision to slip in like a bandit in the night while she slept, I made my way downstairs to her room. Unlocking her door, I slowly opened it, taking care not to make a noise, and entered. I didn’t even glance over at Emily, but went directly to the bathroom to retrieve the kit. With my hand grasping the kit I looked up at the mirror and saw my reflection divided into a dozen different pieces.
Reaching out, I picked at the glass, but none of it had shattered to the point that she’d be able to use it as a weapon against herself or someone else. But still. I couldn’t take chances. I’d have to remove it before going to bed. Sure, she may think suicide was a sin, but once I got her to the point that she didn’t believe in the God shit any longer she might see it as a viable option.
With the kit in hand I made my way out of the bathroom and into the main room. Taking a glance over at Emily, my body froze; she wasn’t in the bed. With a frown creasing my brow I cautiously walked over to the bed, knelt and looked underneath. She wasn’t there either.
Turning, I gave the door a look. I rushed across the bedroom and grabbed the door handle; it turned in my hand. Fuckity-fuck-fuck. I’d forgotten to lock the door when I came in. That fucking bitch was making me sloppy.
FUCK!
But, as I was silently cursing, a rush of adrenaline shot through me. The hunt. The chase. The fight. I didn’t run up the stairs. I took my time, keeping my eyes and ears alert for any type of sound. I heard nothing. As I reached the top of the stairs I immediately went to the front door and swung it open; she wasn’t outside. There had been a light rain earlier and there was a thin coat of water on the front step. There were no footsteps to be seen… She was still in the house.
“Emily, baby! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” I yelled, a wide smile spreading across my lips.
Game on.
Emily
What a bad idea to remain in the house. I should have run out the front door. I should have tried to run as fast and as hard as I could and gotten hold of the authorities, but I couldn’t leave Victoria. She was going up for sale in less than a week. I couldn’t leave without her. I was at a serious disadvantage not knowing where we were. We could be in the middle of nowhere. If we were in the middle of the woods somewhere, miles from civilization, they could be gone from here before I even got to someone. Victoria’s fate would be sealed and I’d be partially to blame for being so selfish.
But I also knew my decision to stay meant one thing – I’d have to hurt Tanner to free us both. He’d left me with no choice. However, cowering in the bottom of a bedroom closet as I was doing wasn’t going to get me or Victoria free. I needed to find a weapon.
“Emily, baby! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” His voice echoed throughout the house and sent a chill through me. There was something sinister in his tone that I’d never heard before.
Demons in him, baby girl.
As quietly as I could in the darkened closet, I began to search for some sort of weapon. It was only a matter of time before he found me. He’d rip the house upside down looking for me and I was at a serious disadvantage – he was bigger, faster and this was his house. The only thing I had on my side was the element of surprise. Rummaging, the best I could find was an umbrella – a damned umbrella. I also grabbed a button-down shirt from the hanger, pulled it on and buttoned it up. It was large on me and there was a faint smell of his cologne lingering on it. If we made it outside I wanted to be at least somewhat covered.
He was much lighter on his feet than I’d expected. It wasn’t until he entered the bedroom that I was hiding in that I heard him.
“Come on, Emily, I just want to talk. We can work this out. If you come out, all is forgiven. Don’t make me do something you don’t want me to do.”
I knew what he was getting at. My family and Victoria. But I couldn’t give up. Not when freedom could be mine. I hunkered deep against the back of the closet, covering myself with blankets, my weapon – the umbrella – in my hands. If he opened the closet, I’d jab him with the sharp end and make a run for it. Run to the kitchen, wherever that was, and get a knife. I needed a weapon – a real weapon.
It was a bad plan. A real bad plan, but the only one I had.
“Come on out, Emily, let’s talk about this.” His footsteps were getting closer to the closet. He was going to find me, I had no doubt.
My heart was beating so hard in my chest that it felt like it was going to explode. My breathing, which was next to silent, seemed to sound like trumpets blaring in my ears. Could he hear my breathing? Could he sense me in here?
He was in front of the closet. His hand turned the knob and he pulled it open. “Don’t make me—”
He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence. I leapt from beneath the blankets, ramming the end of the umbrella into his stomach with as much force as I could muster. He exhaled sharply, stumbling backward several steps. I found myself momentarily frozen as our eyes locked and I saw the rage in his dark depths. “Run, Emily. Fucking run!”
Tanner
I watched her break out of the trance she was in and rush from my bedroom as quickly as she could, the tail of my blue denim shirt flying up behind her, giving me a glimpse of her bare ass. Her ass would be as red as cherries by the time I was through with her, once I caught her.
Chucking the umbrella to the floor, I straightened. I had to give her credit – I certainly hadn’t expected to be ambushed with an umbrella. Though in truth, if I hadn’t wanted to continue our little cat-and-mouse game I would have grabbed her before she got two feet away from me…but I was a sick fuck and thoroughly enjoying this. Maybe it was cruel to let her think she had a chance to get away, but what did I care?
Confident I’d given her enough time to get a little head-start, I went after her. I heard a thump coming from the kitchen. Too fucking easy, Emily. She was really disappointing me. I took my time crossing the house to the kitchen, and as expected she was in there.
As soon as she saw me in the threshold, she grabbed a cleaver that had been mounted on the wall over the counter. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll kill you, I swear it.”
A smile spread across my lips. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s not fight. Put down the knife.” Aside from my concern that she might trip and accidentally stab herself, I wasn’t concerned about the knife. I could easily disarm her, especially since her hands were trembling; she barely had a grasp on it.
She began waving the knife wildly in front of her. “Don’t call me sweetheart! Or love, or darling or anything like that. My name is Emily. Emily! My name is Emily!”
I advanced on her three steps, spreading my hands out, palms up to show I was unarmed. She took three back, keeping the kitchen island between us.
“I mean it!” Her eyes grew wild as she frantically looked for an escape. Unfortunately for her, the only way out was through a window or past me. Neither option was too appealing to her, I’d imagine.
Fuck, this was fun. Perhaps not for her, but I was having a wonderful time.
“And I believe it,” I assured her. Three more steps forward and she took three more back. “Okay, I admit I was an asshole. Maybe I should have stuck around and cuddled. Is that the issue?”
“Cuddle? Are you kidding? Are you insane?”
I shrugged, clucking my tongue off the roof of my mouth as if I were pondering the question. “Some would say so, yes. I think psychopath would be the correct term, but I suppose I also have a touch of narcissism and maybe a little OCD. They all kinda come as one big old package, really, in most cases.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth made a large O shape as if she couldn’t believe I was openly admitting those things about myself.
“You don’t agree?”
“You’re sick, Tanner. There’s something in you.” She wagged the cleaver at me as I took another step toward her.
“In me?” I tilted my head to the side, eyeing her. “That’s a cu
rious thing to say. What do you mean?”
“My father believes people like you have demons in them. He’s right, isn’t he?” Even as she said the words I could see she didn’t believe them. She wanted to believe it, maybe so she could justify my behaviour, hard to say, but she didn’t believe it – not really.
“Holy shit on a cracker. Are you fucking serious? Have you lost your fucking mind already? Like demons, like I’m possessed? Is that what you’re saying?”
She scowled at me. “Maybe.”
“Really?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and gave her head a shake as she opened them. “I don’t know. I don’t—”
I didn’t even pretend to be stalking her any longer. Instead I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Come on. Let’s get real for a second. You know as well as I do most of what your father preaches is complete bullshit. Heaven and Hell and purgatory and demons and angels. Come on.”
“No, no.” She actually advanced on me, the knife in front of her. “You’re not turning this around. You’re not making a mockery of my beliefs.”
“But are they really your beliefs? Or is it just a lifetime of brainwashing?”
“How dare you talk of brainwashing when you have Victoria in the basement?” She came around the corner of the counter, the knife waving; seemingly in her outrage she’d forgotten she should be scared and running from me. The anger that had flared up in her eyes was fucking sexy, making me want to pull her into my arms and devour every inch of her with my lips and hands. And I had to admit, she looked adorable in my shirt. So adorable I’d have considered having regular old vanilla sex with her.
I smirked. “Yes, and once I sell Victoria, perhaps your sister can take her place.” The sentence had barely left my lips when she released this ungodly screech and lunged at me, knife swinging. Either I’d overestimated how quickly I could move or underestimated how quick she could be, because pain shot up my arm as the cleaver sliced a deep, three-inch gash in my arm. It then grazed my chest, making another couple-inch cut before I managed to pry the cleaver from her hands and toss the bloody knife into the sink beside me.
Grabbing her, I pulled her into my arms, attempting to ignore the pain shooting up my arm and the blood that was running down my arm and beginning to cover her. “I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll kill you if you touch her!” She began beating at my chest, attempting to squirm free, putting every bit of power she had in her into her swings at me.
“I’m not going to touch her, Emily. Calm down!”
She looked up into my eyes, her chest heaving as she attempted to gain her breath. “You’re a monster! I hate you!”
My jaw clenched as I attempted to rein in my anger. “Calm down. I’m not going to tell you again. It’s over.”
“Say you won’t hurt her. Promise.”
“I won’t hurt her, Emily. You have my word.” Her breathing slowed and the tension in her body began to drain. “I hate you,” she moaned, allowing me to pull her tight to me.
“As long as you stay and do as you’re told, your family is safe. I told you I wouldn’t lie to you and I’ll keep that promise.” For once in my life, I meant it. I’d spent my entire life weaving lies and didn’t have a single remorseful thought for those I’d deceived. Fuck, I was such a good liar, I almost believed myself sometimes. I suppose that was what made me so good at what I did – it’s easy when you don’t have a pesky conscience getting in the way.
Chapter 10
Emily
“I don’t know how to do this, Master,” I said as I accepted the sanitized needle and thread from Tanner. I was so nervous my trembling hands were going to have a bugger of a time trying to thread the needle.
“That’s why I’m going to instruct you.” He gave me a reassuring smile.
“I can’t even thread the needle, Sir. I’m going to hurt you.” I showed him my hand, which was holding the needle and shaking.
“I’d do it myself, but it’s a little difficult with one hand. Besides, you are the one who did this to me. And I assure you, I’ve been hurt a lot worse than what you can do with that needle.”
“Is that where the scars came from, Master?”
“Excuse me?” He lifted his gaze from the wound and caught my scared gaze.
“You’ve been hurt worse… Do you mean those scars?” I motioned to the long gash on his side.
He gave his head a shake and looked back down at his arm. “It’s not something I want to talk about right now.”
I finally got the needle threaded and let out a sigh of relief.
“It’s going to be fine.”
I must really be fucked up. Have to be. I should be running, I should be happy to have hurt him, but I’m not. “Can I ask you something, Sir, in exchange for stitching you up?”
When he didn’t answer, I looked up from his arm to stare at him. To hell with it, I’d just ask the question I’d previously been told not to ask. What could he do to me anyhow? Lots, I supposed, but I didn’t think he would. He surprised me from time to time, but I was beginning to learn my boundaries and the consequences. “What’s going on with my parents? And my sister? I mean…I don’t want to call them, just curious how they are.”
“This isn’t a topic we’re supposed to be discussing. It’s one of the rules.”
“I know, but in exchange for sewing you up, Sir.”
He laughed. “All right. Fine. If you really want to know. Your picture has been all over the news. Your father, mother, sister have been on the news asking for your kidnapper to return you. I’m not really sure what to tell you, Emily. Basic missing-persons stuff. If it makes you feel better, there seem to be lot of people upset and looking for you.”
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?” I wanted to jab him with the needle right in the heart, but I suspected he didn’t have one. Of course, literally he had one, but…
“Then why did you ask?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Sir.”
“Let them go, Emily. Let them go and move on.”
I stabbed him with the needle, but instead of offering an “ouch,” he just laughed. “What was that for?”
“For being you.”
“That’s hurtful.” I looked up at him and saw the playful twinkle in his dark eyes that I’d seen that night at the club. “Have I been that bad? You stabbed me and I didn’t do a thing about it. I would think most men would be rather upset with being stabbed.” He motioned to his forearm and then to his chest. “Twice, in fact. And if you don’t get to stitching, I’m going to bleed out on the kitchen floor.”
I looked down at the floor, at the front of his shirt covering me and then at his bare chest. Blood. Blood everywhere. “If you hadn’t said what you did about my sister I wouldn’t have stabbed you, Master.”
“Fair enough. Can we please get this over with? I’m fucking tired, sweetie.”
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Call me sweetie, and darling and love and all those endearments when you don’t really mean them. Those terms are meant for people you care for. Do you do that with all the others?”
“No.”
“Then why me?”
“’Cause you’re mine. I’m keeping you, Emily. And I’m going to redden your ass if I have to remind you how to address me one more time.”
Our stares locked and I could see in his eyes that he expected me to be exuberant over his declaration. I wasn’t sure what to think. Did he expect me to just stand around and watch as he brought in new women, broke and sold them? I didn’t think I could handle that. I’d go crazy – crazier than this situation had already made me.
“If you’re keeping me, then I don’t want you taking any more women, Master. Whatever it is that you need, get from me. You don’t need any others. I’ll do whatever you want, anything. Please, Sir, let Victoria go.”
“No. Victoria is going to be sold in a few days. That isn’t up for nego
tiation, love. But I am willing to make Victoria the last as long as you’re here.”
“I need to start this, Master.” His arm looked like something out of a horror show, a thin layer of blood covering his forearm. Putting the needle down, I grabbed a cloth and wiped his arm and disinfected the wound. “What do I need to do?”
“Start at the top, and make the stitches a quarter of an inch from each other and away from the edge of the skin.” Grabbing the bottle of whiskey he’d brought out for this particular occasion, he opened the top and took a long drink. “Let’s get this over with.”
I cringed as I poked his skin with the needle. His body tensed but he didn’t make a sound. The stitches became easier to make as I continued my way down the wound. I could feel his eyes burning into the top of my head as I worked, but refused to look up. Ten minutes later I was done and knotting it up.
Surveying my handiwork, I had to admit I was rather proud of myself. “Not bad, Master, right?” When I looked up into his smiling face I returned the smile. “Right?”
“It’s good.” He leaned back in the kitchen chair. “Now my chest and you’re done.”
I let out a ragged breath. His chest wound wasn’t nearly as deep or long; at least it would go quickly. And it did. A little over five minutes later I was done, but there was still the issue of the blood. I looked down at my stolen shirt, coated in his blood; it was nice to be wearing clothes for a change, but I’d have to get rid of it.
“I’ll give you another shirt.”
I don’t think I’ve smiled so wide in my life – over a shirt, no less. “You will?”
“Yeah. On one condition.”
I nodded. “Anything, Master, anything.”
“Get this kitchen cleaned up – there’s blood everywhere. I’m going to go check on Victoria one last time before bed.” He got up and the fact that he wobbled on his legs when he got up wasn’t lost on me. He made his way to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of orange juice and drank down the contents. Tossing the container into the garbage, he rummaged in a drawer by the fridge and grabbed a set of handcuffs; these ones had a long chain between them. “Give me your arm.”
