Read The Brute Online

Authors: Tabitha Levin

The Brute (4 page)

BOOK: The Brute
9.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
1
1

 

I was really tired when I got home the next morning. Tired and sore. All I wanted to do was hop in a shower and pull the covers over my head.

But it was done. Relief washed over me. I could finally get on with my life. Once I had some sleep, I’d look for work and become normal again.

I opened the door, hoping that James would be still asleep and not notice that I didn’t come home. Ha! Not likely.

“You didn’t come home last night,” said James (stating the obvious). “I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. Something came up.”

He looked at me with one eye narrowed. “I made breakfast.
You hungry?”

He’d made pancakes. With strawberry sauce and whipped cream. The cream wasn’t the stuff out a can either.
Fresh. Real.

I hurried in the shower, and came back out, hair still dripping. I couldn’t resist dipping my finger into the cream even before it got to my plate.
Heavenly.

Even though I hadn’t had any sleep, the breakfast invigorated me. James suggested we go on a picnic (yes a picnic in the city!) and before I knew what I was saying, I had agreed.

His hand curled in mine as we walked around the city looking at things and laughing together. It was the most relaxed I’d felt in ages.

“What time do you have to go?” I asked.

“My bus leaves at four.” He looked forward, not willing to look at me for a moment, lost in thought. “Come back with me,” he said.

He still wasn’t looking at me, not directly, but I could feel the anticipation in the air as he waited for my answer. “I can’t,” I said. “I have to do something here, as soon as I can.”

“You can come back.” He stopped walking and looked at me. “You don’t have to stay here, it’s killing you. Come home.”

I didn’t know what to say. I could feel tiny tears start to well up in my eyes, but I did not want to cry. For goodness sakes, he’s only been here a day or so, and now he knows me? I started to get angry. He had no idea.

I pulled away from him. “You don’t understand. I can’t leave.”

“You used to be fearless. You’d never let anyone hurt you, before. Why are you doing this to yourself?” He pulled the diamond necklace out from under my top. I don’t know why I was still wearing it. I must have forgotten about it. Damn.

I don’t know if I was trembling or not, but he pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. “You don’t understand,” I said.

“Then help me understand.”

We walked back to my apartment in silence. I didn’t know where to start, and honestly wasn’t sure what he’d think when I told him that I let The Brute do goodness knows what to me, at his beck and call, any time of the day or night.

I felt cheap. Maybe I was.

Even as I turned the key in the lock I hadn’t figured out what to say or how to start.

“You look exhausted. Go and sleep,” said James. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

I didn’t say no. It was still early, not even lunchtime, and I could have a sleep, think about the best way to tell him, and then we’d work things out. Together. That would be the sensible thing to do.

 

When I woke the clock said it was after five. James had gone already. How did I sleep so long? I should have set an alarm.

I was just about to go outside to look for him, when my phone beeped.

It wasn’t The Brute. It wasn’t even James. It was my mother.

My new ‘boyfriend’ had sent her a message that I’d been a bad
bad girl (and I’m sure you can guess who that was from).

1
2

 

I was livid. I was doing everything he asked and he still goes and ruins my life. All of those things I did with him were for nothing. He’d broken his promise to me.

“What did he send you?” I asked my mother.

“A beautiful photo of the two of you. You look so happy in the picture. Darling, we’d love to meet him.” I don’t remember posing for any happy snaps.

“How did he get your number?”

“I thought you must have given it to him?” It hadn’t occurred to her that perhaps that lying sack of shit had gone through my phone and stolen my contact list, or that he was lying about our relationship.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” Is that what he thought about our relationship? That we were a normal couple?
Maybe at the beginning. Gazooks.

“Oh that’s a shame. I thought we’d have dinner and get to know one another. I miss you,
darling, I never know what’s happening in your life anymore. Is everything okay? Your father and I miss you so much.”

I told my mother I loved her too.

As I hung up, I cursed out loud. I was still ranting and raving around the apartment when the door buzzer rang. And wouldn’t you know it, it was him.

I don’t know why I let him up. I guess I wanted to give him a piece of my mind or something, and tell him that he’d gone too far. Explain to the imbecile it was over.
O.V.E.R. I never wanted him to touch me again.

When he reached my floor he held a bunch of flowers and a bottle of champagne. Like it was some
friggin’ date for Chris’sakes. “Darling,” he said.

As soon as I let him in and shut the door (there is no use screaming in front of the neighbors), he had grabbed me and was pushing me up against the door trying to push his thick tongue in my mouth.

Of course I pushed him away.

“Tut, tut, princess,” he said, like I was his little pet. He held up a new picture of me. I was naked, with my arms across my breasts, my mouth parted, looking up at the camera. I don’t remember that ever being taken which means he’s had
cameras on me more times than the one I knew about. Probably has them hidden all over his office and boat, the asshole.

“I’ve got far worse positions than this,” he said.
“And video too. God I love watching those videos, especially the ones where you come like a cat on heat. And don’t deny you don’t enjoy it because I see it in your eyes. Want to see a close up?” He pulled out a photo where I’m obviously in the throes of ecstasy.

I know up until this point, I’ve made it seem that I never got any enjoyment out of sex with him. I guess I’m ashamed to admit that in the beginning I did enjoy it. Before it got all ‘I’m the man you’ll do as I say, now spread your legs’. The photo proves it. Not that I like HIM of course.
Like I said - Brute.

“Deny me, Angel, and the photo’s, video, everything - the whole four months of it will be sent to everyone you know.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I manage to whimper out. “Why would you hurt me like this?”

He doesn’t answer, and instead brings out some lacy material from under his jacket. “
Crotchless panties,” he said. (Could he be any grosser?) “Put them on, and let me eat you. You’ll enjoy that Angel, won’t you. Come on and be a good girl. Spread your legs for me. Let me see your dripping cunt.”

I hate that word.

I look between the photos that are lying on the kitchen table and him, the lace dangling on his finger. I’m stunned as to what I should do. The last thing I want is for my family, for everyone, for James, to find out who I really am. But I don’t want to do this anymore. I really don’t. I feel trapped.

My legs buckle at this point and I fall to the floor. I haven’t cried up until this point but now I can’t help it. I’m sobbing like a little baby who has had her rattle snatched away. What am I going to
do?

He grabs me by the hair, and starts peeling my clothes off. One by one, as I’m sobbing, but not fighting him, he throws my garments to the ground. I’m still crying when he pulls the lacy fabric over my feet and up around my waist. It covers nothing. What’s the point?

“There’s my pretty one,” he said admiring me. He placed me on the counter and grabbed my knees, reefing them apart. His face is so close he’s almost salivating. “Dripping already. See I told you, you wanted me. You don’t need anyone else, Angel. You just need me to make you feel good inside. Make you scream. You don’t need that James, guy.”

As soon as he says James’s name I snap. I kick him hard in the face. And blood begins to pour out of his nose. “You bitch,” he says.

I go crazy then, screaming at him to get out. I start throwing things at him. A mug that I had coffee in earlier just misses his head and smashes against the wall. The leftover liquid smearing across the floor.

I don’t care anymore.
About anything. All I can think about is how he’s ruined my life forever.

I hit, kick, scream, scratch, bite. Everything I can think of to get that son-of-a-bitch off me. I hate him so much. I don’t even quit when he falls to the ground and stops moving.

13

 

I didn’t kill him.

It took me a while to finally stop attacking him, once I realized that he hadn’t moved for a few minutes. And I did have a bit of a panic attack, but I wanted to be clear that I didn’t kill him (just in case he comes to an unhappy demise later in life and someone finds this journal and tries to place the blame on me).

That would have been a nice little end to our relationship though, wouldn’t it. ‘Oh sorry, officer, I don’t know what came over me. I just decided to kick and punch and kill my ex lover while I was here, wearing these cute crotchless panties. Forgive me, pretty please.’

Unfortunately (or fortunately since I don’t think I’d look good in a prison uniform) he was still breathing.

You can just imagine it can’t you. I’m standing over this brute of a guy who’s on the floor with his shirt undone but still fully clothed, and I’m wearing a scrap of lace over myself. Oh yeah. Classy.

It takes me a good few minutes to try and decide what to do. I’m still standing over him. I haven’t even thought to put any clothes on yet. And I keep looking at him, at the photos, at my phone.

I decide that this situation is about as bad as it’s going to be. Even if the photos and video did get out, I couldn’t possibly be in a worse situation than the one I’m in now. I could see only one solution to all of this. I called James.

 

James took over an hour to get to my place, he’d been on his way home when I’d called, made the bus stop at a nearby gas station, hired a car, and sped to save me. Isn’t he amazing?

I don’t think he thought the same of me when he arrived.

I did get dressed though. There was no point in stating the obvious — you do not want to get seen wearing next to nothing when the guy you have been sleeping with is unconscious on the floor with blood congealed around his nostrils, and the guy you want to be sleeping with, is in the same room.

“Is this your boyfriend?” asked James. Why does everyone keep using that term?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t want you to get involved in my mess. It’s not your business to help me, I know. But …” But I thought this might bring us closer? Have a common goal? Oh good grief. I was going crazy.

“It’s my business now as much as yours. How long has he been like this?”

The Brute snorted, or snored, or something.

“An hour.
I didn’t want to touch him. And he was still alive, so I left him.”

I told James everything. I didn’t think I had any choice. And I guess I didn’t. He was quiet, and nodded politely. The way he looked at me had changed though. I wish I didn’t have to tell him, I really didn’t, but what choice did I have?

“Shall we wake him?” asked James.

I
sighed, half smiled the way you do when you are willing to go along with something even though you aren’t sure it’s the right move. But I trusted James. For some bizarre reason, I trusted that he’d do me right.

The Brute looked disoriented when James shook him awake. Then that spark of recognition as he looked at me dawned across his face. He spat at me. A huge glob of it landed on my cheek. Gross.

I was about to slap him when James punched the guy right on the chin. It was glorious. I don’t usually condone violence, but that son-of-a-bitch deserved it.

“You’ll go away from Angel. You’ll leave her alone and never come back.”

The Brute started laughing. “Oh you think that’ll happen do you? If her wet pussy isn’t sliding over my cock every day, if she isn’t screaming my name, begging to come, if she isn’t spreading her butt cheeks inviting me to bugger her senseless, if her mouth isn’t swallowing my seed as if it’s life itself, then her life is ruined. Only one click and those pictures go everw…”

He didn’t finish his sentence because James hit him again. There was a loud crack and I was sure he broke his jaw. But The Brute just rubbed it, spat at us again and walked out. “See you in court,” he said as he disappeared down the stairs.

I was still shaking and James pulled me close. His heart was beating fast. I could feel it pounding through his top. He stroked my hair. We stayed like that until I stopped shaking. Not moving, just holding each other until our breathing regulated and we could speak again.

“I’m so sorry I got you involved,” I said.

He hushed me. “It’s not your fault. I’ll help you fix this.

BOOK: The Brute
9.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Bette and Joan The Divine Feud by Considine, Shaun
Beyond Eighteen by Gretchen de la O
The Watson Brothers by Lori Foster
No Pain Like This Body by Harold Sonny Ladoo
The Boss and His Cowgirl by Silver James
Controlling Her Pleasure by Lili Valente
The Scruffy Puppy by Holly Webb
Throwing Like a Girl by Weezie Kerr Mackey
Dragon Moon by Alan F. Troop