by Amiee Louise
His maniacal laugh echoes throughout the room, and I try in vain to struggle against my restraints. I think my wrist is broken, and the cable ties are biting into my skin.
“Stop struggling, whore,” he says venomously, as I feel the back of his hand connect with my face. “I’m not done with you, not by a fucking long shot. I want to watch you suffer, I want him to see you take your last breath.”
I shake my head, and my stomach roils as I think of Sam. Was anything he ever said to me true, or was it all just a horrible lie?
“No, no, no, please don’t do this,” I plead. I always plead, but it doesn’t seem to get through to him. He is so hell-bent on breaking me, on watching me suffer, all because he is so blinded by jealousy.
“He’ll be upset for a while, but he’ll get over you, he’ll be back to his usual self in no time at all. A leopard never changes its spots, sweetheart, he’ll be back to a different girl every night, or he might even end up in my bed. Although he kept you around longer than the others, he never really wanted you, not really. You were just a distraction, something pretty to fill the time,” he spits, and I can see him trembling with pure blind rage, on the cusp of losing it completely. This is it; he is going to kill me.
“JUST FUCKING KILL ME NOW,” I scream hysterically, and he laughs bitterly.
“Kill you? Oh, sweetheart, you’re deluded. Killing you would just be too easy. I planned on having a little fun first. We’re going to make a little film, you and me.”
He strokes my face, and I shudder as his fingers make contact with my skin. I feel physically ill, and he makes my skin crawl.
Grow some balls; do not under any circumstances show weakness, your mum, and dad bought you up better than that.
“I’m not fucking scared of you.” I choke out defiantly, and he is so close to me now, I can feel his warm stale breath on my cheek.
“Oh, I think you’re way beyond scared, darlin’, you’re fucking terrified, just the way I want you,” he whispers.
He moves his hand, and I can see the glistening of the blade. Oh God no. He runs the back of the blade down my cheek, and I am trembling with such fear now. I can’t take it anymore.
“I can smell your fear now, and it’s fucking exquisite,” he says in an eerie, melodic voice.
I struggle against my restraints again, and I sob hard,
“Please, please, please don’t do this.”
“God, I love it when you beg, when you plead with me, please, please don’t do this,” he mocks. He moves over to the camera set up on a tripod in the corner of the room, and a red light appears, as he presses record.
“Showtime, sweetheart.” He laughs, with a sadistic glint in his eyes.
I am not going to survive this, not this time. I love you boo. I am so sorry...
7
Sam - Present
I look up, and my whole world comes back into focus. My eyes widen in complete and utter shock, as I recognise the figure in front of me.
“You? What the fucking fuck?”
My head is still fuzzy from the bash on the head, but I would recognise that face anywhere. J fucking D.
“Surprise!” he says, in a singsong voice and laughs maniacally.
My head is throbbing, and I am tied to a wooden chair, with cable ties. I struggle to get my arms and legs free, but there is no give at all. He circles and stops in front of me, with his hands behind his back. His wide beady eyes regard me with rapt interest. His hair is dishevelled, and he is wearing an off-white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dirty jeans, and scuffed trainers. He is so close, I can feel his warm, alcohol breath on my cheek. I try to focus on my surroundings and realise I am in some sort of derelict warehouse. There is a wooden table to his right, and the only light in the room comes from the moonlight filtering through the windows.
“What the fuck is going on?” I say in a confused tone, my fuzzy brain still struggling to comprehend the situation I currently find myself in.
He removes his hands from behind his back, revealing a sharp, serrated combat blade, which is at least six inches long, and moves towards the table. Suddenly, he slams the knife violently into the table top. After all the times I watched that DVD repeatedly, as the hooded figure plunged a large menacing combat blade into Peyton’s chest, I would recognise that knife anywhere.
“You! This was all you! You sick fuck!”
I am totally and completely stunned. Fuck me, this is not happening.
“It was me, all of it was me! Don’t you see, Sammy? It was me all along!”
He laughs, and suddenly my whole world starts spinning. I am in freefall, and I feel like I need to vacate my guts all over the floor. Breathe, Newbolt, in through the nose, out through the mouth.
“It was meant to end this way!”
What the fucking fuck is he talking about?
He dances around me, laughing maniacally, and I think he has finally lost the plot. He taps my cheek, and I flinch away from his touch.
“Come on, Sammy, keep up, son.”
I look up at him and inwardly curse the day I laid eyes on this sick, demented, freak.
“You killed her, you motherfucking son of a bitch!” I spit out angrily and struggle vehemently against my restraints. He claps frenziedly.
“Finally, the fucking penny drops! Bra-fucking-vo!”
My heart is beating a frantic tattoo, and I am struggling to rein in my boiling rage.
“I fucking loved her, and you took her away from me, you fucking bastard! You made me think she was fucking alive, you sick twisted cunt!” I snarl, and he smiles smugly. He is smug that he took someone else’s life. Christ, could this bloke be any more mental?
“Who was she?”
He looks at me, narrowing his eyes.
“Who?”
“The fucking lookalike in the crowd, how did you find someone who looked so much like her? TELL ME, YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKER!” I roar, and his smile fades, as a look of pure bewilderment crosses his face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, what fucking lookalike?” He feigns ignorance, and I narrow my eyes at him. Is he fucking with me?
“STOP LYING, AND FUCKING TELL ME WHO THE FUCK SHE WAS, OR SO HELP ME FUCKING GOD, I WILL KILL YOU!” I shout. I am so full of rage, I can feel the vein in my neck pulsing. I struggle and buck violently against the restraints.
“Stop fucking struggling, you definitely need to learn to calm that temper of yours, Sam.”
He completely ignores my question and moves lithely over to the table. He pulls out the knife that he stabbed into it. He runs his finger over the blade and examines it, as if it will give him all the answers he seeks. His eyes look wide, agitated and crazy. He moves closer to me and begins dancing crazily around me again, humming a tune, which sounds oddly like 'Bring Me Sunshine' by Morecambe and Wise. Fuck me; he really has lost the plot.
Unexpectedly, he stops in front of me, raises the blade, and stabs it through my right hand. As I see the knife penetrate through my hand, the memory of the same knife plunging through my sweet Peyton’s chest and robbing her of life overwhelms me. I scream in agony as the pain rips through me. I look down at the blade protruding from the back of my hand; the pain doesn’t immediately register, and there is blood, so much fucking blood. The sight of the dark, glossy, crimson blood triggers a flashback, and I see her face clearly in my mind, pleading with me to help her. My breath comes out in sharp pants.
Fuck me, come on, Newbolt, breathe.
He quickly pulls the knife out of my hand, and I bark out as the pain lances through me. Breathe.
“Now look what you made me do, Sammy! I didn’t want to hurt you, but you were confusing me, and you were really beginning to piss me off with your incessant fucking questions.”
His wipes the blood from the knife, on his shirt and tucks it into his jeans. His expression changes and turns cold.
“You know she was just like all the others don’t you?” he says calmly and starts circling me again
, as if nothing has happened.
“She was different to all of the others; she was fucking pregnant with my baby, you prick!” I growl, and he looks at me with fire in his eyes.
“She was just like all the others, ten a fucking penny, a gold-digging groupie whore. There’s a thousand other girls just like her, more than willing to take her place,” he spits out, and I start to struggle against my restraints, to no avail.
“Don’t you ever fucking speak about her like that; you’re just a fucking sick, twisted man.”
I look him in the eyes, and he laughs bitterly.
“I killed her, that knife went through her like warm butter, and it was absolute fucking perfection.”
He pinches his fingers together and makes a kissing motion. All I want to do is to break free from this chair and rip his motherfucking throat out. I buck so violently against my restraints, it causes the chair to rock backwards onto two legs.
“I watched her take her last breath, and she fucking deserved it, every fucking second of it.”
His voice is hard, and his beady eyes burn with something that resembles pride as he speaks. I feel so overcome with rage, I can’t focus on anything other than how much I want this sick fuck to die.
“She deserved everything she got, she could never make you happy the way I can. With her out of the way, we can finally be together... That night...all those years ago, we had something special, Sammy, don’t you see? IT’S ONLY EVER BEEN ABOUT YOU!”
8
J.D. - Eleven Years Ago
“That’s a wrap, good job today, boys; the album is sounding pretty amazing so far. Go and celebrate, you all deserve it, have one on me.”
I pull out a fifty-pound note and hand it to Lucas. The boys excitedly laugh and hi-five each other. Their childlike enthusiasm lights me from the inside, music is what I live for. I can tell Sam is not like them; he is different. He is shy, sensitive, handsome, and brooding.
“Fancy a few fucking beers, boys?” Brody declares, in his crass, low brow way, and they all rowdily agree.
I can’t let him go, not yet. Make your move.
“Sam, I need a quick word, if that’s ok? I won’t keep you long.”
He looks at me and looks quickly away shyly. He nods.
“I’ll catch you up, boys.”
Jax pats Sam’s arm.
“We can wait if you want, mate?”
In my head, all I am thinking is, please say no, please say no. He tucks his hands boyishly in his pockets and shakes his head.
“I’ll be fine, Jax, I’ll catch you up, give me ten minutes tops.”
He winks, and I feel my cock harden in my trousers. Jesus Christ. I clear my throat and turn away to hide my painful arousal. Although, what I have planned will take more than ten minutes.
“We’ll be in the Black Chicken, down the street. I’ll get the drinks in, first rounds on the gaffer. Usual, with a chaser, dude?” Brody asks, and Sam nods as the boys follow him out.
The door shuts behind them, and I am not a religious man, but I thank God for this moment. Alone at last. I go over to my filing cabinet and take out the bottle of Jack Daniels I keep there for emergencies. This being the emergency. I pull out two glasses and set them down on the table.
“Won’t you join me for a drink, Sam?”
He bites his lip piercing, and my cock twitches. Fuck me, easy fella. He nods, and the gesture makes him look so vulnerable and boyish.
“Sit down, Sam; you’re making the place look untidy.”
I grin a little too widely, and he sits down awkwardly. He is tall, lean, and his long legs look amazing in those tight jeans he is wearing. This is going to be an extremely long night.
“Is there a reason you asked me to stay behind?” he asks curiously.
We all know what curiosity did to that cat, don’t we, Sammy? I think idly as I pour us both drinks and move over to him. I hand him his glass; his fingers briefly brush mine. Jesus Christ, I must show some fucking restraint. I sit down next to him.
“All in good time, Sam, drink.”
I take a long gulp of my whiskey, and he does the same. I watch as his throat bobs, as he takes a gulp. He even makes a simple gesture like having a drink erotic. He smiles and unleashes his dimples. Fuck, how is it possible for a man to look so innocent, yet so completely and utterly sinful all at the same time?
“I can make you very rich; I’ve proven how my influence can make a star of you and your band, Sam. Recording this album, you can be an overnight success; I can make Rancid Vengeance even bigger than the Lightning Bolts.”
Checkmate. I take another sip of my drink, moving closer to him. I place my hand on his leg, and I feel him tense.
“Just relax, Sam.”
He downs his drink in one gulp, and I chuckle softly. I am so close to him I can smell the sweet masculine scent of his aftershave and the familiar Newbolt smell I have become accustomed to over the years.
“I’ve always liked you, Sam. You’re handsome, innocent, beautiful on the inside and on the outside.”
I stroke his hair, and it feels so soft and silky under my fingers. I lean in and press my mouth to his. The contrast of my clean-shaven face and the scruff of his light stubble make my cock twitch. I introduce my tongue and just for a minute, he kisses me back, until he realises what is going on. He jumps back at the realisation, and his green eyes widen, as if he can’t believe what just happened.
“What the fuck?” he curses, and I smile. The look of horror on his face is quite adorable.
“For the briefest moment there, Sam, you wanted this as much as I do, you kissed me back.”
He shakes his head and says resolutely, “No.”
I reach over and grip his penis through his trousers. He has a semi-erect cock, and I smirk.
“This fella says different.”
He angrily shoves my hand away from him, and cups his erection with both hands, trying to hide his obvious arousal. I imagine how big his cock is, and how it would feel in my hands.
“I...I...I’m not fucking gay!” he stutters, and our eyes lock. He has this adorable pink hue to his cheeks; he’s blushing and fuck me if it doesn’t turn me on even more.
“You don’t have to be gay, Sammy, just...a little adventurous. Do you want to...experiment?”
He jumps up off the sofa and moves toward the door.
“I...I should go, the boys will be wondering where I am.”
Think, fucking, think.
“You know I can make or break your band, don’t you, Sammy?”
He frowns, and I know I am being a bastard, but I just can’t help myself. He makes me crazy just thinking about him. He has no idea of the effect he has on me.
“I’m just...gently reminding you who holds the power.”
I get up from the sofa and stride towards him. I back him into the wall; we are roughly the same height, and I look him straight in the eyes. Those green eyes of his are so bright and intense. He is so innocent and so...pure.
“You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours, and you’ll be an extremely rich man by the time you’re twenty-five. You’ll have the ladies falling at your feet; you’ll have so much money you won’t know what to do with it. You’ll be famous. The women will want to fuck you, the men will want to be you, everyone will know who Sam Newbolt is. You’ll be a household name, don’t you want that?”
He swallows, and he nods slowly.
“Good, we understand each other then don’t we, Sam?”
I stroke his face, with the back of my hand and his skin feels so soft. I crash my lips feverishly to his, and this time, he kisses me back with all the passion I have been imagining for all those months. His kiss is soft and rough all at the same time. I push my erection against him, and I grab a handful of his hair. He is so awkward; I can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. I reluctantly pull away from our kiss, and we are both breathless.
“Breathe, Sammy; you want this just as much as I do, relax,” I try to soothe him as
I pull the blinds down and flip the lock on the door.
9
Sam - Present
J.D. moves closer to me, and his eyes are crazed. He strokes my cheek, and I feel dirty just from his touch alone. He makes my fucking skin crawl, I buck against my restraints; feeling them bite into my skin. The earlier injury I sustained, from when he stabbed me in the hand, suddenly feels insignificant. I feel helpless and at his mercy, like a fly being caught in a spider’s web.
