New Title 7 (5 page)

On the ninth day he led me up the basement steps to the first level.

A shocking, inexplicable spontaneous event.

He brought me into the sleek modern kitchen. When he fetched his mobile phone to order a pizza, I gaped thinking this
had
to be a dream.

I glanced in the living room while he spoke on the phone. His lips formed a reassuring smile, telling me it was okay to go and sit.

Flames snapped in the hearth as I rested on the sofa. These dancing flames soothed, hypnotized, emanated warmth that caressed my legs.

"Hey." Brandon strolled in to sit beside me. I sharply exhaled when his hand cupped my knee.

"Sorry." He withdrew.

His kindness struck me as weird. He'd switched from violent offender to gentleman, which made me suspicious and doubtful of his sincerity.

I found him charming when we first met.

And what an
act
he'd played.

Quivering shadows hid his eyes while his full mouth reflected the fire's gleam. It made him attractive in a mysterious way.

He created this romantic ambience on purpose. Was it part of a planned seduction? If so—why did he rape me before? Why didn't he simply ask me on a date? God, I wished he had instead of violating me in
that
way. With his movie star looks I would've been more than willing to date him.

But now? Not so much.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his eyes two bluish iridescent slivers. Pretty... but creepy. Gooseflesh invaded my arms.

"I'm not thinking about anything." I quickly returned my attention to the hearth.

His sinister, threatening laughter sent a shudder straight through me.

"Nothing my ass. You were staring at me for five minutes—or longer." His voice lowered to a seductive throaty tone. "You want me to fuck you?"

"No."

"Yes you do."

"And you should stop flattering yourself." I watched the fire, awaited its calming effects. "Even if I liked you, you never gave me a chance to show it. You forced it."

"Nah. You wanted it. I didn't force anything." He didn't sound convinced and his tone lost its arrogance.

"You know I didn't. Keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep... helps you look in the mirror."

Brandon snorted. "Okay." He got up and marched off.

Strained silence.

What's he doing back there?

Hopefully waiting for the pizza delivery instead of sharpening his handy switchblade.

Cautiously I peeked past the sofa arm. He leaned against the wall of the foyer, arms raised with fingers clasped. He stared at the ceiling.

Maybe he wouldn't take it out on me later.

I was an idiot for bruising his massive ego. I should've kept my mouth shut. I should've lied and said he was right. 

Wait—I can tell the delivery person. This is the perfect chance to get out.
These plans hastened my pulse and gave me hope.

Of course Brandon wasn't stupid. Not like I was.

Someone tapped the door but he didn't answer.

He glowered at me. "If you're thinking of running off when I open this door, just—don't—do—it
.
Is that clear?"

My mind went blank.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

"I said—is that
clear
, Mia? Jesus H Christ. Answer me, goddammit." His face flushed.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

His eyes absolutely blazed. "
Mia
," he growled. I'd never seen him so pissed.

"Yeah."

"Yeah
what
?"

"I won't try to run off."

"Good." He flew to the door and his voice trembled with subdued rage as he greeted the pizza delivery person.

I buried my head in my hands, wishing to die.

Scream
, a voice urged.
Just fucking scream! Get the pizza guy's attention! Scream! 

But I couldn't find my voice—vocal cords were paralyzed. So were my legs.

"Twenty dollars," a woman said while sinking my hopes lower. What could
she
do to help? She was very petite and he towered over her.

Christ
. Neither of us could fight Brandon.

Stomach queasy, I glimpsed the crunching fire and wanted to throw myself inside the hearth.

"Hold on. Sorry this is taking a while." He set down the pizza box. 

Wham
went the door. He secured the deadbolt, grabbed hold of the girl's shoulders and slammed her to the floor.

No, Brandon! No no no. Don't do this to someone else. God god god no.

"What—are you
doing
?" she cried. Her upside-down cap wobbled near the door.

He clenched a fistful of blonde hair and charged forth. She shrieked, arms and legs flopped as her backside scraped a path to the corridor. He stopped, released his grip. Wisps of gold slipped through his fingers as she slumped below. She wore a skirt and her thighs gapped to reveal panties.

He hovered like a massive hawk observing a mouse.

I closed my eyes and prayed. Couldn't watch. Wished my ears could shut out her pleas.

Zzzip
went his fly.

He's going to do the same damn thing to her! The same horrible things he'd done to me.

Hardly noticing my coursing tears, I hugged myself, wanting to disappear.

"Mia!"

I launched from the sofa.

"Get me a condom," Brandon said as he straddled the woman. "I have a box in my bedroom, top drawer inside the dresser. Hurry up."

"Where's your bedroom?" 

"First door on the right." He swooped to the woman and sucked her neck. Her blue eyes rounded, chin quivered.

I forced my legs to work.
God damn it. Now I'm his accomplice! Unbelievable.

I put her suffering out of my mind. Self-preservation was my utmost priority. Must obey no matter what. Live to see another day.

Yes. Live to see another day.

I continued to a room with an unmade bed and oak dresser.

"
Mia, hurry the fuck up
."

His command gave me a start. I sifted through his shirts, lumped them aside and found the box.

I returned—and with shaky fingers—offered the condom. He snatched it and for a moment our eyes met. I detected no emotion at all.

Nothing.

Disgusted, I turned away.

"Mia."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to
look
. You're going to watch me fuck this woman."

My body went cold. "What?"

"You're gonna watch since you're the reason I'm punishing her. You pissed me off so now I have to vent. Turn the fuck around."

Closing my eyes, I turned.

"No. Open your eyes."

I did.

"Good. Now watch." He lowered his jeans, carefully unrolled the condom over his erection. Every time she fought he slapped and threatened her. The sight nauseated me.

"Are you sexually experienced?" he asked her. My nausea worsened.

"Yeah." She sniffled. "Why?"

"I'd use extra lube if you were a virgin."

"How—thoughtful." 

He held her wrists over her head. When he lurched forward, she winced and spewed tears.

I felt everything
she
felt. Every jab cut like a dull blade. She lay at the mercy of a sadistic psycho who used his dick as a powerful weapon.

Her rape brought memories of mine to the surface. I couldn't stop seeing myself in her place... even though she was the one being tortured.

Brandon gasped while he maintained his snug position. Obvious he'd reached climax at this point, so I was sorely tempted to stop looking. 

He disengaged, squatted and peeled off the slimy condom with its droopy, semen-filled reservoir. Sweaty, flushed, hair disheveled, he hoisted upright to stare at the girl. Her chest pumped with labored breaths.

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" He arched a brow.

"No."

"No what?"

"No I won't tell anyone." She sniffed.

"What's your name?" he questioned.

"D—Deeana."

"Deeana?"

"Y—yes."

"Okay. Deeana, I want to make sure you don't go to the police. To help ensure this, I'm going to make you eat the contents of this used condom." Brandon grinned wickedly, waving the stretched latex.

"Wh—what? Why?" Panicked, she boosted herself part-way by her elbows.

"I told you why," he said. "This way you'll know I'm not joking. Because if you get me arrested, I'll do a lot worse after I get out. I'll rape you ten times, force you to eat cum every time I jack off... then I'll piss on you and then I'll kill you."

She whimpered. "I won't tell. I swear I won't."

He shook his head in a slow patronizing fashion. "Sorry but I can't risk it. See, this way you'll be much more likely to remember my warning. Right?"

Deeana sobbed as he crouched by with the condom. He dipped it to her lips, taunting.

"Open up and say ahhh," he said. "Do it before I slit you."

Her lips clamped as she recoiled.

He regarded me, eyes big and crazy. "Tell her I'll slit her with my switchblade."

My lips parted but no words came.

"Tell her, Mia."

"Uh, he'll cut—"

"
Slit
," he corrected. "Slit, not cut."

"He'll slit you—with his switchblade."

Deeana's quivering lips separated and she poked her tongue outward. Starting with the reservoir, he inserted his finger into the condom, pushing it inside out. Cum dribbled to her mouth.

She gagged, heaved.

"Don't throw up," he ordered. "Swallow it but don't vomit."

She shut her lips and eyes as she gulped. Her body tremored, mouth flew open, choking.

"Very good," Brandon said smirking. He straightened and the inside-out condom dripped. He allowed a drop on his forefinger; then he drew it to his lips and licked his cum, dragging his tongue as if savoring the flavor. "Doesn't taste bad, does it?"

He brushed off his jeans and headed for the kitchen. "I gotta throw this out." He elevated the nasty thing as if it were a flag proudly signifying his mind-fuckery.

Repulsive. Horrifying.

He reappeared in the entryway. "Did you enjoy the show, Mia?"

"You're disgusting."

"Aw, that's not nice." He mocked a frown, snickered and directed his attention to Deeana. "Get the hell out and don't forget my warning."

Deeana clambered upright, smoothed her wrinkled skirt. His steely gaze followed as she went to the door.

I wanted to cry for her, but I no longer had any tears left.

She walked with an awkward gait, making it somewhat obvious she'd been violated.

He scooped up her red cap and handed it to her. "Can't forget this." Totally psychotic, he beamed.

He handed her a twenty-dollar bill—along with a tip.

She gave him a bewildered look and glanced at me with bloodshot, disturbed eyes.

"Oh, if your boss happens to ask why you're late, make sure you tell him a good lie. One that makes sense," he said.

Deeana nodded and scurried out.

He lingered in the foyer. "Don't, Mia. Don't look at me like that." His expression was icy. "This was
your
fault. But instead of punishing you, I punished her. Just be thankful it wasn't you." 

Be thankful? Be thankful?
My mind screamed, shouting words I wouldn't dare say aloud.

Brandon, I won't be thankful until you're dead.

Exhausted and numb, I headed to the basement. This fucking purgatory was my new home. No point in wishing otherwise.

I was going to be stuck here for a long time.

Thank god he didn't come after me. And in the back of my mind I prayed that Deeana
would
contact police.

I wouldn't get my hopes too high. 

F
or two days I thought of Deeana, Brandon, his making her ingest semen and making me watch as he violated her. These awful visions were non-stop. I couldn't sleep because of it.

And those terrible things he'd said...

In a way, at the same time he was raping her, he was raping me.

Mr. Hyde (Brandon) hadn't spoken to me since that night.

Apparently his warning had worked on Deeana for the police never showed. I couldn't blame her. Mr. Hyde was so terrifying he could scare the venom out of a rattlesnake. 

I stretched in bed. The hour struck close to three in the morning and I couldn't fall asleep. My brain refused to quiet down despite the pitch black bedroom. 

Maybe Mr. Hyde had made me afraid of the dark? Caused me to regress to a child's mentality, made me possess those same silly fears I once had.

Made me absolutely fucking batshit nuts. Just like
he
was.

I rubbed my tired eyes, tensed when I heard the door creak.

Brandon...? 
I couldn't look.

Oh Jesus Christ.
My mattress lowered as he joined me. What was he doing? What was he
planning
to do?

Hot fingertips slithered along my thighs, drifted to my vagina.

What the fuck? That area's still healing!

Placing his palms on my inner thighs, he splayed my legs far apart as a self-invitation that quickened his breathing. His tall shadow hovered over me.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for the other night. I wish you'd forgive me. I don't mean to act like a shit. It—just happens. I swear to god I don't know why.
I don't know why
."

God, was he crying? My eyes couldn't get any bigger, heart couldn't pump faster.

Too stunned to do anything else, I let him fondle me.

"I'll try to make it up to you, Mia. I owe you anyway." His fingers opened the lips of my sex. "I'll make it up to you right now. Please forgive me." His tongue brushed my clitoris. I grabbed the sheet as bursts of pleasure fired within.

A second lick and my grip tightened.

"Please, Mia." Third lick. Manipulating at an excruciating pace, his tongue dabbed the sensitive nub. He suckled, kissed it, enjoying himself as his talented tongue sent ripples of electricity through my belly.

"So sorry, baby." He endlessly traced the nub and serviced the center with a firm flick of his tongue. "So sorry," he breathed, gently sucking, working me closer to the edge.