Chapter Three
My entire life has been shielding my fear from the men who abuse me. I don’t ever want to give them the satisfaction of it. In a way, it’s the only strength I have; my hidden fear. That’s why when he stands, lifting a lighter to his cigarette, and waving the blade at me, I don’t let my hard gaze waver.
There’s blood in his hair. Red and taunting. A screaming sadistic realization that I’m not his first stop tonight. Images of piled, sliced bodies in the ballroom at the benefit flashes behind my lids as I blink rapidly. Whose blood is that? I think of Will, and of the possibility that he’s what has painted this man in front of me, but I don’t know. Where I expect some feelings of remorse, or sorrow to be, is hollowness.
I feel nothing for Will. I assume I won’t ever.
This man takes his time puffing on his cigarette and making his way across the room to me. I’ve unconsciously stepped back so much that I’m hitting the wall in the hallway. He smiles. His eyes gleam proudly as he observes me like some peculiar creature he’s studying. I hope my reactions as entertaining as he makes it seem. Fucker.
“Whose blood is that?”
I nod to his hair. He shoves his lighter in his pocket, and with thick fingers coated with more blood he pulls at his short blonde locks and laughs.
“Oops. Cleanup’s never perfect.” He shrugs. That’s not an answer.
“Y-you were at the party,” I stammer, cursing myself inwardly for appearing so upset by his presence. He enjoys my fear. I swallow the lump impairing my ability to speak calmly and re-address him.
“I saw you there.”
With his eyebrows raised, he chuckles, and steps closer, pointing the blade at me once he’s in the doorway of the room.
Where the fuck’s my dog? What happened to loyalty?
“You’re very observant,” He replies. A swift clap of his hands and he’s in front of me, completely emerged from the bedroom. I’m pressed as hard as possible against the hallway wall. I think about making a break for the front door, but I don’t think I’ll make it. Then again, if Phoenix sees him chasing me, maybe he’ll attack.
“What do you want?”
I don’t want the answer. I don’t want to know all the sadistic things he’ll do to me, but it’s the only question I can frame on my lips. The only thing I can think to ask. He clicks his tongue, and a breathy chuckle escapes his lips, before he drags his thumb along his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes contemplatively. Blood smears along the top of his chin from his hand.
“Pain,” He replies, and grabs me by my hair. I’m dragged down the hallway to the front door. Phoenix cowers on the couch, whimpering as he throws the door open and holds the blade to my throat. The cool metal of the knife slices my skin, and I feel a trickle of blood rolling down to my collar.
“Listen,” He begins. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut, or I promise as soon as we’re in the car, I’ll cut out your fucking tongue. Maybe hang it around my neck.” It sounds like he’s honestly imagining himself with a necklace of tongues – and the enjoyment in his tone makes my body feel icy.
I firm my lips and nod.
“Be a good little bitch,” He growls. “The fun shouldn’t begin until you’re tied up.”
I hate Will. He’s the reason I’m being taken. All my years of servitude and obedience and abuse to be kidnapped and killed by someone who hates him. At least me and this guy probably have that in common.
He pulls his knife away, holding it angled to stab my back slightly as we walk. I hold up my hand to my throat and wipe the blood, shoving down the queasy feeling in my gut at the sight of my blood on my fingers. I pray one of my neighbors will come out. This is clearly a hostile situation – there was no masking that no matter how hard this guy tried. If someone would just come out.
I clear my throat loudly, hoping to gain the attention of the noisiest neighbor we have, Mrs. Clary. She’s always wanting to know what the life of a senator is like, bringing us food, finding weird ways to get into the house to scrutinize our life. I overheard her niece is a reporter. I’m not surprised if that’s where the news gets so much of their information.
My heart races, willing her door to open so I can see her snooty, pretentious smile. A smile that will save me, but we pass her door uninterrupted. The disappointment in me is potent. I sulk, glad I’m not facing him.
The elegant quality of having such a private living space is no longer inviting. I’m being kidnapped, and no one will fucking know until Will comes home – which I doubt he will. This happens every couple weeks. He stays out all night and I don’t see him until the evening of the next day. Probably out fucking hookers or strangling them. What do I care? As long as he keeps his filthy fucking hands off me.
The air is just as aggressive as the situation; chilly, dark and sullen. I feel my nipples hardening instantly as we’ve stepped out into the parking garage where a SUV with dark tinted windows await us with the back-passenger door opened.
I frantically whip my head back to glance at the doors, but he curses and digs his knife into my flesh just enough to enact a whimper from my lips and the obedience he desires.
“I’m sure you won’t miss it,” he mocks and shoves me into the seat. I groan and scramble to get in, ignoring the pain radiating in my gut. The door’s slammed behind me. I quickly reach for the handle, hoping somehow, they stupidly left it unlocked but it’s not. Luck was never on my side and it isn’t about to be now.
I’ve watched us roll through town, and out of town. The area around has become unfamiliar, and when we finally stop, I’m baffled of our location altogether. That’s the point though. There’s no real place to run out here. Houses are miles apart. I’d do circles in woods, and fields until I died of thirst or something.
The man yanks the door open and waves his knife for me to get out. I hop out of the car cautiously, but quickly. The door slamming startles me my nerves are so high. He grabs ahold of my hair and drags me behind him towards the large house before us. In the darkness it’s scary, intimidating – the place sealing my fate.
My steps falter as it dawns on me I’m probably going in here to die. Even if I’m being held captive until they get something out of Will, I’m sure he won’t give it to them. He doesn’t care if they pull out my fucking eyeballs – he still wouldn’t lift a fucking finger, and all because tonight is the night he isn’t home. How fucking lucky…
I stop, and try to pull myself out his grip, screaming as hair starts ripping away from my scalp.
“No!”
I struggle in his grasp, actually managing to loosen myself enough to propel backwards. He hisses and begins twisting his wrist to try and get a better hold on me, but I twist on my heal and start to make a break for it, ripping completely away from his grasp.
I run back towards the car where another man stands next to the drivers door. When he notices me, he begins coming towards me, but I hear the man behind me yell.
“No! She’s mine. Don’t fucking touch her.” The driver backs off. I keep running. Bare feet pounding against the rough dirt, I have no destination, only away.
“Help me!” I scream as hard and loud as my lungs allow. Sweat beads against my forehead, my chest heaves up and down heavily as each breath I drag past my lips becomes labored from running. I’m almost half-way down the street when I’m fucking tackled.
A thick body slams into my back, and I cough, sputtering out of my lungs when I connect with the ground and the man who held the knife to me is on top of me. I squirm, thrash, attempting to throw him off, but he punches me in the back of the head.
“No! Help me,” I belt out, but another blow to the head silences me. I whine, pain shooting from my head down into my jaw and to my tongue where I’ve bitten it. I shove the sobs in my throat down. No crying.
He wrestles me up and cuts my arm deep. I watch blood flow like a fucking faucet, and I feel nauseous.
“M-my arm,” I squeak, and he sticks his thumb in the wound, digging as far into my open flesh as he can. When I scream, he laughs maniacally.
“That was fun, but it’s back to business now.”
Fun? I peer at him wide-eyed with horror.
“What do you want,” I croak.
He ignores me, so I repeatedly as him.
When we’re inside, I’m brought down into the basement and chained to a pipe.
“W-who are you?”
He turns to leave.
“Dominico?”
He stops. His shoulders tense, and he whips around with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes of suspicion. He stomps a few steps towards me. I clench my fists and swallow. He slowly walks towards me and kneels.
“If I were you, I’d think before talking. Dominico doesn’t exist. That is, if you want to live.”
Is he really implying I’m going to? Or is he just fucking with me?
“You’re crazy,” I mumble. The moment those words leave my lips, I clamp my mouth shut and wait for the blow.
It doesn’t come. I’m surprised.
“Hm, you could call me a psychopath, but I feel too much joy in these things,” He replies and taps my wounded arm, with a sardonic smirk on his lips. He grazes his nail against the cut and I wince.
“Easy there.”
“So, you’re a sadist,” I respond. Sounds just like Will. There were moments I truly believed he enjoyed hurting me.
He tilts his head and drops his arm back to his side. He seems truly contemplative. Like he’s testing the theory in his head, the word on his tongue. Seeing if it fits him.
“Sadist. I like that. Jay the sadist.”
Jay. His name.
Jay doesn’t seem to care he’s just revealed his name.
No. It almost gives him more power. Like a demon.
“I’m not Dominico.” He shakes his head. “No. I’m the one they call when they want answers. Most importantly, the one they call when they want pain.”
Pain. My entire life has been just that. Emotional and physical pain by men. I shouldn’t be surprised.
“What do you want from me?”
Jay stands. His face shows his annoyance. He clearly doesn’t have to say anything. In fact, it’d be just as much torture to keep me wondering why I’m in this place, but he gives me one mercy.
“It’s what we want from your husband. You’re here to help us get it.”
I shake my head quickly.
“Whatever you want, I’m not going to be able to help you. You don’t understand Will… You can do whatever you want to me, and he won’t care. I’m nothing to him.”
“I beg to differ – I noticed at the party his aggression towards you. If the torturing of his wife won’t push him to give us what we want, I’m sure there are other ways.”
I’m confused. What other way is there besides torturing. The smile that spreads on Jay’s face makes a cold chill pass through my body.
I can tell by his expression he has a very twisted imagination and I hope I don’t ever have to find out to what extent.