Aaron: Book Three (Scars 3) (2 page)

I didn’t let her down after I came in
her. I held her there with my cock still inside her.

Her neck.

That was all I
saw. It was delicate and flawless, holding no marks to spell out the history of
all I had done.

She was lucky.
That’s what I was thinking as I had put the noose over her head on that first
day at the farmhouse. I could have put her in the basement, but instead I chose
the barn. The barn was better. Slits of light could always make their way in,
whether sunlight or moonlight, and as long as you could see the light, then you
knew there was something better out there. But in the basement, everything was
just black. It was just you and the darkness and you could die down there and
no one would probably ever find you.

Yeah, the barn
was definitely better.

 The noose still
hung where my father had left it all those years ago. The barn still smelt like
my piss when I’d wet myself in fear, thinking that each time would be the time
that he would let me die. I put it around her neck and she whimpered. I knew
exactly how she was feeling. The powerlessness, the terror of being in the
hands of someone you knew was crazy. After pulling it tight, I took my knife
and cut through half of the rope. If she fell, then it would break pretty
easily. Automatically I kicked at the box on which she balanced. I didn’t mean
to, but it was just what he used to always do and it was like my foot had a
mind of its own. Again I kicked it for some reason and she gave a muffled
scream. The scent of fresh urine filled the room. Her jeans were soaked through
and I gave a laugh at the irony. She and I had something in common. Although
what was she? Eighteen? I’d been twelve the last time the bastard put the noose
around my neck. I wouldn’t have pissed myself at eighteen. By then, I knew to
never show fear. I had complete control over my body…normally…hadn’t I just
kicked that box not once but twice like my bastard father used to do?

I left her
there. My hands were shaking. I needed a drink, but I stopped myself. I never
drank on the job, and that was what this was. I wasn’t weak though. Not like my
father or my uncle. I could handle myself. The hours passed and then finally, I
went to get her.  This wouldn’t take long. She’d learn not to fight.

I stopped
suddenly. I had never learned not to fight. No matter what the bastard had done
to me. I had learned to be sneaky and crafty and to get away with more. Was she
like that? Was she like me? Any softness that I would have given her in that
moment disappeared at the thought.

It would be for
the best. It would be in everyone’s best interests. I’d reduce her down to
nothing just like he wanted. It was the only way.

I waited for
hours—reading the diary and marking the pages. It was only when dusk fell that
I returned to get her. She was cold and wet from her own piss. She was
terrified and thinking of death. She’d be grateful now for any kindness that I
might give her.

I dragged her
inside. I wasn’t used to dealing with women and it was so simple to just pull
her behind me and up the stairs. I threw her into the bathroom and she hit the
sink. Her body was weak. I had to remember that. I cut the ties from her and
she moaned as she slowly moved her hands. I expected her to attack me, but all
she did was rip the duct tape from her mouth before stumbling to the toilet to
vomit.

“That’ll be the
drugs I had to give you to keep you down.”

“Please just let
me go. I won’t tell anyone,” she begged.

“Why would I do
that? The fun’s just getting started, Rachel.”

She twisted her
head to look at me, her eyes wide. “My name isn’t Rachel. It’s Paige. I told
you I’m
Paige."
There was a raw panic there, but who wouldn’t be?
I’d put her through hell. There was nothing more enlightening than letting
someone think that they could be about to die.

“Really? You
think I’m stupid?” I nearly laughed. How long would she keep up with that story
for?

“No, you made a
mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. God, just please let me go.”

“Get your
clothes off,” I ordered flatly. Why the hell was she begging?

“No.”

That surprised
me, although it shouldn’t have. She was hard.

I crouched down
so I could look her in the eye. “Take your clothes off or you’ll spend all
night in the barn with that rope around your neck.”

She let out a distraught
noise and then began to undress. I returned to my spot in the doorway, watching
her. What did she think I was? A pervert? Probably, but it didn’t matter what
she thought. Soon, all she would care about was what I was thinking and that
she would do whatever it took to please me.        

“Are you gonna
fuck me again or feed me?” Her quiet voice broke through the memory and
suddenly I was conscious of her eyes on me. I let her legs slowly down so she
could stand, not letting go until she had her balance again.

“I’m hungry,” I
muttered. “Let me finish up here and I’ll be down soon.”

“Sure.” She
moved past me and through the shower door. I squeezed my eyes shut and stood
under the spray. I knew that I stood in my shining, white tiled bathroom, but
for some reason, back there in that hell hole of a house, everything seemed
simpler. I was master and she was the slave. There was no power play or
blurring of roles…

My eyes flew
open. Yeah. Yeah there was. Rachel played me. That niggling realization was
always there in the back of my mind. I couldn’t blame her. She was a survivor,
but now…was she playing me now?

She’d started
making coffee by the time I went downstairs. She wore a blue knit dress that
hugged her figure. Her damp hair was half drawn back while the rest hung down
her back. It had grown back quickly after the doctor had cut it to see what the
damage was. It was flawless now, almost inhuman.

We didn’t speak
as I began to work in the kitchen. With two freshly made cups of steaming
liquid in front of her, she sat at a bar stool and watched me.

“What are you
doing today?” She rarely asked me that and I never volunteered. It was better
she didn’t know.

“I’m meeting
with Antony. I probably won’t be back until late.”

She nodded. I
didn’t know if she cared.  She liked the house to herself; that I was sure of.
Sometimes when I came home after dark, she’d be curled up in my bed and smiling
as if content with everything. Those nights, I was tempted to shake her, to let
her know that I was there, but I didn’t want to know what the reception would
be: horror or welcoming. It was best not to know.

“I’m having
lunch with Thomas.”

I had my back to
her as she said that, and I paused only slightly in my movements. “I thought
you weren’t having anything to do with those people anymore.”

“Thomas isn’t
those
people. He’s playing them to benefit himself. That’s all. He’s not the one
taking advantage of the weak. They think that he’s the weak one…” she trailed
off.

I snorted and
twisted to face her. “You really fucking believe that?” I sneered. “That little
fuckwit’s going to end up dead with those games they play. Whatever presents
they buy him right now aren’t going to do him any good when it really matters.”

“Thomas is
smart,” she said crisply.

“Yeah, well, you
were fucking stupid until I rescued you. Where would you be now if not for me?”
I turned back to the stove top. There was only silence from her and then she
let out a laugh that was devoid of humor.

“Rescue me?” Her
voice was quiet, as if barely controlled, and I waited. “Is that really what
you think you were doing?”

“If not for me,
Rachel, you’d probably be a drugged up little puppet, desperate for Nora’s
attention and narcotics, and if you think any different, then you’re‒”

“Let me
guess‒stupid?” she cut in.

“You said it.”

I heard her
breathing. “I’m not hungry anymore. I’m going for a drive.” She had a car now
that I’d bought for her. She had freedom. Maybe that was a mistake. I heard her
scoop her keys up from the stone counter top.

“Make sure you
set the alarm when you get back. There are bad people out there.” I didn’t
bother to turn to look at her.

“Out there. In
here. What does it matter?” she snapped. A few seconds later and she was gone.

I knew what I
was supposed to do. I’d seen it on T.V. I was supposed to call out to her and
apologize so she’d come back and then we’d fuck on the counter or something
romantic like that. But she was being stupid. Thomas was trouble and Rachel
wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. Thomas might need taking care of at
some stage, but I’d hold off on that one for a while. He was her only friend.

I ate my
breakfast alone and in peace before the text from Antony arrived. He wanted to
get going. There was someone who needed taking care of and he had to be
present. That always made him nervous but he was good at hiding it. No one else
had any inkling of it but me, but no one watched him as carefully as I did
either. It was always important to pay attention‒friends or
enemies‒it was all the same. Never let your guard down. Not with these
people. Not with anyone.

I picked him up.
Before me, he liked to travel with an entourage of muscled fucks who liked
their weapons. Who needed that? Too many witnesses and it made him look weak,
like he couldn’t take care of business himself. Appearing weak was the worst
mistake you could make in any situation. Any sign of weakness and people would
take liberties. If word got out, Antony would cause no fear. He would be
ineffective and a liability. Luca wouldn’t tolerate that, even in his brother.

So now he had
me, and I was all that was needed ninety-nine percent of the time. I was known.
People knew what I was. Word got out, but once my house was attacked, people
began to assume that I’d lost my touch. Those people were now dead, and I was
back on top.

A blonde was
stepping out from the entrance way as I pulled into the driveway. She had messy
sex hair and looked pissed at being kicked out. Antony’s driver stood by his
car with the door open. She had served her purpose and was now being sent away.
Antony appeared after her, pulling on his jacket. He didn’t even look at her as
she paused before entering the car. When it was apparent that he wouldn’t be
paying her any more attention, her face screwed up with anger and humiliation
as she ducked her head down and stepped in.

That was why I stayed
away from most women. Antony liked to wine and dine them and make them feel
special before taking them to his bed and keeping them around while they kept
him amused and didn’t interfere too much with his lifestyle. But once they
became too clingy, too in love with him, he sent them away. He didn’t seem to
understand or care that most women wanted to be loved, they wanted a partner.

Before Rachel, I
screwed around and rarely let anyone into my world. Azalea, I had almost let
in, but that was a mistake. Now I had Rachel, and there was still nothing
normal.

Antony slid into
the passenger seat. “Let’s get going. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.” He
took out his phone and gave it all of his attention. He was nervous and he’d
been drinking. That was how he dealt with this shit. It didn’t matter though;
he had me to take care of everything and direct it. He’d do what I said.

Antony gave a grimace. It was barely
perceptible. I doubted that anyone else would have noticed. It was just a
slight twisting of a lip. I grinned, before I ploughed my boot into the side of
the guy’s face again. Blood and teeth flew, and Antony manned up.

“I’m being
fucking kind here. You have until 5pm tomorrow to make everything right.” He
made his voice into the tough guy voice that he’d heard in the movies, or from
his brother. The man cowered at our feet, nodding the best that he could with
his mangled face.

Antony was
making a mistake. He shouldn’t have been kind with this one. No doubt it would
come back to bite him in the ass. But that was on him. I turned and headed for
the car. I couldn’t help the limp that I was forced to walk with now, but I
didn’t let the pain show. I was good at that.

A minute later,
Antony joined me, slamming the door shut. “I didn’t expect that of him,” he
said, almost to himself.

I started the
engine. “Trust no one.”

“You want to get
a drink at the restaurant?” he asked.

“Rachel’s
expecting me.” She wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t care, but it was lie that I liked
to believe. Plus, I wanted to bury myself deep in her warmth. I wanted to see
her cum even when she hated that it was me.

“Come on. Just
one drink,” he urged. I got it. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be
with someone like me who was worse than he was; so he could feel superior and
not like a lost and dreadful soul.

“Sure.” I wasn’t
sure why I agreed. I could have told myself that it was good to keep in with
the family but the truth was, I didn’t find Antony’s company too offensive. We
arrived as the staff were leaving for the night. Some of the women smiled at
me, I didn’t bother to smile back. Antony played bartender as I lifted myself
up on the barstool, my hip aching. He slid the glass along the polished
mahogany bar to me and I downed it immediately. It was good scotch, attacking
my aches and soothing my bones, and he swiftly poured a refill. For himself, he
chose wine. He liked the reds, just like Rachel.

“Why’d you let
him live?” I asked him.

Antony caught my
eye and gave me a small smile. “You think I’m weak?”

I stayed silent
and he laughed. “You can say it. I won’t be offended.” He took a sip of his
wine.

“It doesn’t
matter what I think. I’m not your enemy.  Luca won’t be pleased, but I guess
that you don’t care about that.”

He shrugged.
“I’m not my brother’s bitch.”

“Are you saying
that I am?” I wasn’t offended.

His eyes slid to
me. “I think you and my brother are alike, Aaron. That’s what I think.” He gave
a slight laugh. “But I enjoy your company more than my brother’s.”

I couldn’t blame
him. Luca had the reputation as a psychopath and I, well, I didn’t give a fuck
what my reputation was.  If you asked Rachel…well, it paid never to ask Rachel
what she thought.

“That guy’s
going to mistake your kindness for weakness.” I reached over and grabbed the
bottle to help myself to a refill. The taste for it was in my DNA, but it
wouldn’t be my downfall.
What will that be, Aaron? Who will that be?

Antony shrugged.
“I’ll deal with it when it happens.”

I stayed quiet.
That was the difference between him and Luca. Luca would have problems taken
care of before they occurred. There were no second chances with him and that
ruthlessness had given him his power. It had given me power as well. More power
and less risk. People at the top like him undoubtedly always fell, by the hand
of enemies or police. But people like me, we got to make as much money as
possible and then disappear. Criminals with as much status as Luca never got to
disappear; someone would always hunt them, whether it be a do-gooder politician
or some young asshole who wanted the status of killing him. No one would ever
look for me. There was no family, no friends…only Rachel. She had been taken
before and I had hunted him down. The foolishness of my actions made me cringe.
I had done more and more stupid things since I’d met her. My mind flicked back
to the diary and of my uncle’s words. He’d described her as a vicious and master
manipulator. His crazy mind thought she was a demon, and my crazy dream…

Fuck. I was
being stupid.

“I gotta go.” I
slid from the bar stool and reached for my keys.

“Gotta keep
Paige happy?”

“Rachel. Her
name is Rachel.”

He frowned. “How
did you two meet anyway? You knew her from before that whole thing with Nora,
didn’t you?”

“I kidnapped
her. Kept her locked up and beat her down until her mind was so fucked she
didn’t know what was good for her anymore.”

Antony blinked
then frowned.

I flashed him my
best grin; the one that could seduce men and women alike, and his own face
broke into a smile and he relaxed.

It wasn’t until
I was back in the car that I noticed the blood on my shoe, shiny against the
black leather. I grabbed a tissue from the console and wiped it clean before
throwing it out the window. I hated mess, but sometimes it was necessary. That
was stupid. It should never have gotten to that stage and part of me wanted to
kill him just for having the gall to show any kind of defiance. It didn’t deserve
any type of respect; the act was just stupid. It weighed on me; not the beating
that I’d given him, he deserved that, but just how stupid he was. It annoyed me
and irritated me, and I felt an anxiety run through me. I needed distraction. I
needed Rachel. I floored it out of there and headed for home, ready to bury
myself deep within her and fall asleep like that.

The house was
dark when I got home and all alarms were set. She wasn’t home. Where the fuck
was she? It was almost ten. I snatched up my phone impatiently, ready to call
her, and then I remembered her anger this morning. Was this her throwing a
fucking tantrum? I checked the tracker that I’d put on her phone and her car
and let out a bitter laugh as the location appeared on my screen. She was at a
fucking bar of all places.

I set the phone
down and poured myself another drink instead, taking comfort in the dark of the
living room.

It didn’t take
long for my drunken mind to slide to memories of her. After, after I’d beaten
her in the barn, and imprisoned her in her room, after I’d touched her and made
her body cum…My hand shook as I poured another drink,

After I left
her, a mess of confusion, naked and beaten and her mind well and truly fucked
with, I went to the bedroom and sat on my bed. She hadn’t protested, just lain
there as my lips glided over her skin and kissed her better. Why? Was it guilt
or the desire to torment her even more? I wanted to taste her, this girl, to
see what the hell was so mesmerizing about her. I wanted to taste the witchcraft,
the demon inside her.

I had bit out a
laugh at the crazy thought. All that brimstone and fire shit that had been
drummed into my skull must have pierced through somehow, creating the stupid
superstitions. I hadn’t believed my uncle for a second as he’d droned on in his
diary about her bewitching him, well, maybe that was true in part. She was a
pretty girl who knew how to seduce. But the demoness crap‒that was
insane…yet appealing. Her black heart could match my own decayed one…

I laughed again.
Insanity obviously ran in my family along with delusions. Almost involuntarily,
I lifted my fingers to my lips to touch where I had kissed her. She had cum. Of
that, there was no question. She must have been hating herself, right then,
that her body had not done what her mind told it to.

Or had she?
Another girl would have whimpered but she was silent. Maybe she didn’t care;
maybe her mind could move from her body while unpleasantness occurred to her
flesh…or more likely, she was just well practiced at having revolting men like
me, like my uncle, touch her and use her,
ruin
her.

I had grabbed
the bottom of my t-shirt suddenly and yanked it over my head. I needed a shower
to wash her from me. I ran down the hall and then paused, right outside her
door. My fingers twitched to undo the bolt and throw open the door and yank her
from the bed to put her under the water so it rained down on her hard. I wanted
to scrub her skin until it turned red and all trace of me had run from her.

I didn’t though.
I stood there under the spray myself for a very long time, but the disgust
never left.

So I waited in
the dark, my mind lost in that farmhouse when it was just the two of us,
instead of here, where everything was glass and transparent. And I drank,
because what else would I do?

It was near
midnight when she slipped inside. The buzz of the door, the alarm…it all made
it impossible for anyone to hide in this house. Not that she was trying to. Her
heels tapped against the tile as her silhouette slowly walked closer, black
against the moonlight. Her movements were graceful and slow, and if she’d been
drinking, it didn’t show. She stood a few feet away, silent as she watched me.

“Have fun?” I
asked as I poured another drink.

“Yes. Did you
‘have fun’ doing whatever it is that you do?” Her voice was quiet and
emotionless. Had she always sounded like that? Controlled and calm? Where was
the fear and desperation? Where was the
begging?

“Why, yes,
Rachel. I had a lovely evening. Thank you for asking.”

I heard her suck
in a breath and could almost hear the bitterness on her tongue before she said
it. “Why make light of it? You do terrible things. How can you make a joke of
it?” She sounded like she really wanted to know. Was she condemning me?

I moved
swiftly.  On my feet, arm outstretched to circle her wrist. She didn’t move
away or gasp with surprise. Even in the darkness, I knew that her eyes were
firmly on me, waiting.

“Those ‘terrible
things’ pay for this,” I hissed. “They pay for this house and those clothes and
that car and whatever money you just spent out tonight.”

“You sound like
my mother.” Her voice sounded weary and I dropped her wrist like it burned.

“I’m not whoring
you out, am I?” I mumbled. “I’m not using you for anything.” I retreated back
to my chair and my drink. “You’re here because…why are you here?” My words
slurred. Shit. I was drunk. That realization didn’t stop me from taking another
drink and keeping my eyes down and away from her.

“Because you
want me to be,” she said softly, and I heard her take a step toward me.

I lifted my head
up and found her watching me. Even in the dark, I could see her blonde hair hanging
over her shoulder in a silky perfect line.

“What?” I turned
away from her and finished my drink.

“You’re out of
control,” she said softly, but there was an underlying hardness to that
smoothness, just like there was to her pale and blonde form. Underneath, there
was steel. It may have been decayed and rusted but there was still strength
there.

“Shut up,
Rachel.”

She sighed and
turned.

“Stop.”

She froze.

“Your name. The
one you chose. You never told me it.”

Slowly she
turned to look at me, one eye hidden by her hair. “That’s because one day I may
not want you to find me.”

I stayed silent,
because I couldn’t speak. I was glad, so glad, that she couldn’t see me in the
dark. I had a life time of learning to keep my face still and unrevealing, but
right then I couldn’t be sure of that skill not betraying me.

She waited, not
moving, but nothing came from me, and eventually, she turned in her heels and
walked away toward the light of the staircase.

I poured another
drink, and then another, until it was hard to move. As I ventured up the stairs,
it was hard to get my feet to walk and find each step. It was like I was
climbing a mountain but there would be no victory once I reached the top.

She was in bed,
in
m
y
bed, with her back to the door. The covers had slipped down
to reveal her nude back. I stood there staring at it; the bare, perfect skin
tormenting me. It was so perfect and unmarked. She could just go where I
couldn’t find her. She wore a disguise‒a beautiful disguise. She could
hide anywhere and pretend to be anything. She did not have the hideous scars on
her back like I did, spelling out to all who saw just what I was. My father had
seen it, and tried to beat it out of me. Or did he put it in me in the first place?
I couldn’t think. My mind was too thick and nothing made sense.

I fell onto the
bed clumsily, and still she didn’t move. She used to flinch when I came near;
now there was nothing. I reached my hand out, placing the flat of my palm
against her soft and perfect skin. My mind swirled and I closed my eyes to try
and steady the world, but instead I saw that whip. My father’s favorite whip.
The thick brown leather that he oiled with love and care. The smell… oh God
that smell of the freshly oiled leather…

I imagined it
flinging through the air to land on her back, ripping open that skin with a
viciousness that could never, ever be repaired. But there wouldn’t be blood.
Something else would erupt‒black flies, screaming out as a strong hoard
from her decaying inside.