by W Winters
“Little bird,” Jay tsks, his boots smacking on the cement floor as he makes his way to me. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,” he says with a hint of condescension in his voice. But the corner of his lips curls up into a half smile.
I break his gaze to look at the shattered camera laying in pieces on the ground.
“I fucking hate it,” I mutter beneath my breath.
“So you broke it?” he asks me, his voice tinged with surprise. My palms turn sweaty as I look into his eyes, hoping to find approval. He stops in front of me, his broad shoulders and chest at my eye level and dominating me with his presence alone. There’s a power about Jay that’s undeniable, a confidence and demeanor that won’t be denied.
“Yes,” I answer him and wait for his reply. Clinging to the hope that he’ll understand. It’s not just a camera. It’s something more. A pain I can’t describe. He nods his head once and then looks past me at the pile of broken pieces on the floor.
“It’s funny that you break what you hate… yet I seem to be the opposite?” Jay speaks in a riddle, not quite to me, maybe more to himself.
“I didn’t mean to,” I tell him quickly. “I’m just…,”
“Angry,” Jay answers for me.
“Yes,” I answer him in a whisper. He takes a step closer to me, filling in the space between us with heat. His large hands wrap around my hips and I slowly move my hands up to his lower back. Both of us are testing boundaries. My heart beats quickly as I tilt my head up. His hands move down and to my backside. He squeezes my ass and pulls me into him, hard and with a force that makes me gasp.
“It’s easy to blame the anger,” he says, staring into my eyes. His voice is like a hiss, like a spoken sin. He lowers his lips so they’re close to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. “But you and I both know it’s more than that. So much more.”
I can’t take the proximity, the intensity. I don’t ask for his permission. I don’t wait for him to make the move. I’m taking what I want.
I crash my lips against his and he’s quick to react, to deepen it. To lift me up and force my legs to wrap around his hips as he lays me on the bed. His tongue parts the seam of my lips, and I open for him instantly.
Take me. Have me. Do whatever you want with me. I’ve always been yours.
My breath quickens and my chest rises chaotically as he peels my clothes from me. His fingers slip across my skin with a tenderness that’s only thinly hiding the beast of a man Jay is.
His lips kiss and nip my skin, moving over every inch in a torturous fashion. My shoulders dig into the bed as my back arches and he swirls his tongue along my sensitive nipple. His hands, his lips, the roughness of his jeans brushing against my skin. It’s all too much.
“Jay,” I whimper his name. This is the only way I want his name to ever come from my lips again. My head is dizzy with desire and it takes a moment before the cool air makes me realize he’s on his knees, upright and waiting for my attention. My eyes move slowly, trailing along every hard line of the muscles on his chest and shoulders. He waits to speak until I meet his hungry gaze.
“You want me?” he asks as his deft fingers unbutton his jeans. My eyes are drawn to the movement and I slowly crawl to him as if moving too quickly will make him change his mind.
I nod my head once and whisper in a sultry voice I don’t recognize, “Yes, please.”
“Take it from me,” he tells me as he shoves his pants down. He strokes his cock once and my eyes are drawn to it. I lick my lips and show him my intentions but his hand comes out, pushing my shoulders away.
I look up at him, a wave of denial threatening to steal my happiness, but his thumb brushes against my lips and he says, “If I wanted these fuckable lips I’d tell you. Give me your pussy,” he commands.
I can barely breathe as I turn on the mattress, listening to it groan as I get on all fours and reach between my legs for his cock. As I do, he swipes his fingers through my slick folds and brushes my throbbing clit over and over. “You’re so fucking wet,” he groans and I half expect him to lose control, to take me like he did before. He says it like he’s surprised, like I wasn’t made for him.
“Please,” I whimper and lower my head to the mattress. My fingernails scrape along the sheet. I’m close already. I want him that badly.
The only movement he makes is to gently stroke my ass. I peek back at him, willing him to take me as ruthlessly and savagely as he wants to.
“Show me how much you want me,” he says under his breath as he towers over me, looking down at me with a heat in his eyes I’m sure is mirrored in my own.
In this moment, the only thing that matters is showing him just how much I desire his touch. How much I crave his affection and acceptance. His love.
I want him more than I ever have. More than I’ve wanted anything else.
I want him more than I want my own life.
Chapter 24
John
“What happened to the camera?” I ask Jay as I stand in the opening of the bathroom door. There’s still a bit of steam on the bathroom mirror and I watch as he wipes it off with his forearm. He looks over his shoulder at me, his hair still damp from the shower as he puts his t-shirt on over his head.
“The camera?” he asks, turning back to the mirror.
A tick in my jaw twitches as he ignores me. “The fucking camera is destroyed.” My blood heats with anger. I’m tired of being a fucking pawn in this game he’s playing. And how he likes to ignore me.
“She broke it,” he says simply. The mention of her, of the sweet woman he’s toying with does something to me.
“She did that?” I ask him with an air of disbelief, but also one of pride. She’s stronger than she knows. She deserves better, so much better.
The past is the only thing that stands in her way. And that’s just what Jay is.
“She fucking loved doing it,” he says and there’s a sense of pride in his voice and it echoes the jealousy in me. I clear my throat, wishing I could shake it off. Wishing I wasn’t caught in between. Wishing I could just walk away.
“She’s doing better,” I say and watch the easiness about him slowly dim as I wait for him to respond.
“She wants you. You know that?” He cocks a brow at me meant to be friendly in nature, but it’s not. I know he wants her. He fucking loves her, and she loves him. But I’d take her from him in a heartbeat. I want her just as much as he does. I can love her better. Treat her better. I can give her so much more.
“She should go now,” I tell him, ignoring his accusation and the way my blood pumps harder and hotter. I can’t look him in the eyes as the vision of having her again and again beneath me flashes before my eyes. She’d love me more.
“You want her too,” he says, and my eyes flash up to his. “You want to fuck her. Marry her?” he asks me with that same wicked grin on his face. “You want to put a baby in her and ride off into the sunset?” he asks and tilts his head, egging me on.
“I’d give her a better life than you ever could.” The words slip between my lips with a menacing growl.
He only laughs at me, then gives a sarcastic grunt and turns back to the mirror. Fucking prick. “You wish you could,” he says beneath his breath, gripping the sides of the countertop as his expression hardens. The real him showing. The anger and the hate.
“You’re using her,” I tell him, feeling the swell of anger rise. I crack my knuckles on my right hand with my thumb, trying to keep from balling it into a fist.
He turns to look at me, waiting for more.
“All you are is using her.”
“Maybe.” A confident smile stretches across his face, and the danger in his darkened eyes is so apparent, so real. “I am using her. And she fucking loves it.”
I can’t fucking take it anymore. I love her. I fucking love this woman who’s caught in a web of lies and hurt.
Adrenaline pumps through my body, burning up my skin. I hear the pulsing thud of my blood loud in my ears.
I won’t
let him get away with it. It ends now.
A snarl rips through me as I slam both of my fists into Jay’s shoulders, landing hard and knocking into him with all my weight. I’m not used to this aggression. To this all-consuming rage, but when it comes to her, I can’t hold it back. She makes me feel a side of me I’ve never known. She makes me want more. And I want her all to myself.
Jay’s a fucking dead man.
He stumbles, smashing his shoulder and head against the bathroom wall. Before he gains his balance, I land a blow into his gut that nearly has him doubling over. But Jay’s taken enough punches to know how to handle them. He mutters under his breath, “Motherfucker!” while ramming his shoulder into my gut. My eyes shut tight with the spike of pain that shoots up my body.
My legs lose their balance as my boot backs into the tub, tripping me. I grit my teeth and cling to the shower curtain as it rips the bar down, falling violently with a loud clank into the tub behind me.
I fall hard on my knees and elbows onto the tile with Jay’s muscular frame crushing down on mine. I quickly wrap a leg around his calf and push my weight to the opposite shoulder, forcing him down on his back with me landing hard on his chest.
“She’s mine,” I tell him finally. “I won’t let you hurt her,” I say although I’m winded. He already has. He’s destroyed her and ruined something so beautiful and pure. “I fucking hate you,” I seethe at him.
My fist slams into the floor as I try to gain my balance and focus. It hurts like a bitch and splits my knuckles. My left hand grabs the collar of his shirt as I raise my bloodied right fist, eyes focusing on his pretty boy nose.
My breaths come in pants as he plants a punch on my left cheek before I’m able to gain my balance and take a swing at him. Fuck! I stagger back, both fists immediately going to my face to block any more punches. I land on my ass, but move to my feet the second I see Jay breathing heavy and struggling to get up.
“I hate you too,” he says with a smile. There’s blood coating his teeth as he sways in front of me. “I can’t tell you enough how much I fucking hate you.”
The venom in his voice is all too real, and I feel the same right back.
It’s me or him when it comes to Robin. “Between the two of us, she’ll choose me. Always,” he says as if reading my mind. The smile stays in place as he wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
He’s right. My heart beats hard at the recognition. She’d choose him. And I can’t fucking let it happen. She deserves so much more. Someone better than him.
My hands grip around his throat and at first, I feel flesh, real hot flesh that my fingers sink into, but the harder I push, the more I try to choke the life from this bastard, the less it feels real.
My vision shifts and he’s no longer in front of me. My fingers are no longer around his throat, but instead on the edge of the mirror.
“Fuck you!” he sneers and he’s back, his vicious eyes piercing into me with a threat of death and I smash my forehead against his.
Glass splinters against my forehead, it smashes around me. I hear the crack, I can fucking feel it, but when I open my eyes, he’s there staring back at me. A smile on his face as he bashes his head into mine again and again and again.
A punishing abuse until I’m standing in front of a broken mirror, clinging to the edges of it and his image fades, leaving only my reflection.
My heart races, and my head’s dizzy with pain throbbing and shooting through me.
Chapter 25
John
Twenty years ago
“Come on,” I say and my voice is low. So low. I can’t speak any louder, but she’s moving so slow. I’m afraid he’ll hear us. The keys jingle if I hold her hand. But I can’t let go of her.
My heart races, beating uncontrollably at the thought of what will happen if he catches us. If he finds out that we’re trying to escape.
He’ll kill us. I know he will. He’ll definitely kill my little bird. I can’t let that happen. I turn back to look at her over my shoulder.
Her heels dig in and scrape against the cement as she resists me, and her fingernails scratch at my wrist to let her go.
“We need to go now,” I tell her in a stern voice and her face crumples with fear. She shakes her head and her dirtied hair barely moves. Her eyes are wide with fear as she tells me, “We can’t.”
Her shoulders hunch when she hears the vicious barking of the dogs. “Close the door,” she begs me, but I refuse.
I can hear him banging on the door. I can hear my father screaming. I’m surrounded by threats, threats that are promises for me, but empty for her.
“Right now, Robin,” I say and grip her chin in my hand and look her in the eyes. “It’s now or never,” I tell her in a soft voice. My heart pains in my chest. Like nails scraping it slowly, shredding it piece by piece.
“I’m dead,” I tell her. “If I stay, I’m dead.” I only say those words for her. There’s no other choice for me.
I’ve locked my father in the cellar. He’s arrogant to think I could never slip by him. I only have one chance though. And as he rattles the door and screams at me, I nearly cower in front of her. I’m dead when he gets out, and I know he will.
The dogs I have a plan for, but she needs to go the opposite way. She needs to run without being followed.
“No, Jay,” she cries.
“We need to go now,” I tell her again and although the small girl’s expression is only one of fear, she grips my hand tightly and finally moves. I don’t give her a second chance, or myself one either. Every step is one more step away from losing her forever. One more step toward my death.
But it’s for her. And it’s worth it.
My life is so meaningless, but this gives me something.
I have to tug her wrist as we run up the cellar steps. The dogs are just outside the kitchen in the crate. The gate is closed, but they can get out. They have before. The lock on it isn’t much at all. I’ll have to hold it if I can’t find anything to shove between the handles and strengthen the lock.
I stare out of the kitchen door only for a moment, knowing it’s time to say goodbye.
“Jay, what do we do?” she asks me in a strangled voice.
“You need to run first, little bird.” I stare at the dogs as they snarl and I tell her, “You have to go first. Straight through the field and into the woods. Keep going straight.” I ignore her as she objects.
There’s a road, it’s a dirt road, but I’ve seen cars go by on it more than once. “Follow the road and I’ll be right behind you,” I lie to her.
I turn my back to the dogs and face her, managing a smile. How that’s possible, I don’t know. The tears in her eyes make me feel weak. Like I’ve failed her, but this is all I can offer.
I wish I had more.
“Promise me, you’ll run no matter what you hear?” I ask her and it only makes her more scared. I hate myself for doing this to her, but it’s the only way I know.
At the sound of the cellar doors smashing open in the basement beneath us, I quickly turn, gripping her wrist and pulling her with me as I rip the kitchen door open and yell at her to run.
* * *
***
* * *
Clunk, the sound is so sharp. So crystal clear. The pain from the excruciating hit immediate, but also numbing.
I open my eyes and see my father. The memory flashes in my vision over and over. I’m on the ground, my hands in the mix of dirt and grass. It’s so cold.
She’s gone. She’s safe. She left me.
My head falls back, and I cry. For the first time in so long, I cry without the tears being forced at the hands of my father.
“You fucking prick,” my father sneers at me and I back away. Shuffling backward in the grass, the heels of my bare feet digging into the freezing cold mud.
It’s not fast enough. No matter how much I’d like to pretend, I’m not bigger than him, not stronger than him.
I’m weak.
>
I’m only a child.
He raises the shovel up high in the air, and I don’t try to block it this time, I don’t do anything but sit there in a numb fear with the vision of her running away.
I only got a glimpse before Father came in. The dogs were furious, barking so loud and viciously. But I locked them in. I pushed a stick through the cages. I couldn’t breathe until he ran from me to go to them.
In that moment, her foolish wish was also mine. I wanted her to be a bird and fly up so high. High enough that no one could touch her. Not the dogs, not my father.
I only wanted her to be safe.
But then my father came back. He dragged me out here and he’s making me watch as he digs the hole.
The shovel raises up high again, and this time something’s different. The sharp clunk as it smashes against my head, the hot blood that drips down my forehead.
I can’t feel any of it.
It’s not me.
My head hurts as I stare down at the boy. My hands can feel the metal in my hand, the wood of the handle as I watch the boy yank it away from the man.
It’s not me though.
I stare in horror as he slams the shovel into the man’s gut. He’s a small boy, like me. He’s skinny though, he’s dirty. And he’s a murderer.
His chest heaves as he beats the man several times with the shovel. Blood splatters on the ground. Over and over, even as the man lies dead and limp, the boy doesn’t stop.
The boy is angry, and he’s not well. I feel so sorry for him, but I’m too terrified to move.
I stay on the ground and watch as he slowly drags the man to the pit. It’s not much, but he’s tired and the boy can’t do anything other than move the man to the shallow grave.
When he looks up at me, my heart stops. The boy’s anger turns to something else, and his eyes narrow.
“Who are you?” he asks me. My heart beats fast and I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t remember who I am, I only remember my name.
