Read Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller Online

Authors: Demelza Carlton

Tags: #horror suspense thriller, #dark romance, #kidnapping abduction and abuse, #nightmares and insomnia, #post traumatic stress disorder ptsd recovery, #recovering after rape, #revenge and justice, #western australian drama and suspense

Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller

 

Necessary
Evil

of

Nathan
Miller

DEMELZA
CARLTON

DEDICATION

 

This book is dedicated to all those
whose names I've borrowed for characters along the way.

I'm not entirely sure how your namesake
developed into a vengeful, sadistic, psychopathic dominatrix or a
brutal, callous, murdering rapist as the story progressed…

You never know what's hiding under the
safe-looking surface until it's too late.

Nathan thought Caitlin was a little
angel, too.

Copyright © 2013 Demelza Carlton

Lost Plot Press

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

Contents

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

Part 37

Part 38

Part 39

Part 40

Part 41

Part 42

Part 43

Part 44

Part 45

Part 46

Part 47

Part 48

Part 49

Part 50

Part 51

Part 52

Part 53

Part 54

Part 55

Part 56

Part 57

Part 58

Part 59

Part 60

Part 61

Part 62

Part 63

Part 64

Part 65

Part 66

Part 67

Part 68

Part 69

Part 70

Part 71

Part 72

Part 73

Part 74

Part 75

Part 76

Part 77

Part 78

Part 79

Part 80

Part 81

Part 82

Part 83

Part 84

Part 85

Part 86

About the
Author

Part
1

Don’t get into cars with strangers.

So stupid to think I was strong enough
to resist.

But I never dreamed it would happen to
me.

Dashing through traffic in daylight. A
tingling instant preceded my sneeze. Desperately scrabbling for a
tissue before the explosion. Sneezing, blowing, blech…I wanted to
wash my hands, but there was nowhere on the Terrace to do that. I
looked up, wondering where I could.

My search met her stare, through the
open window of her Mercedes. I knew my sneeze couldn’t inspire such
fascination, so I looked behind me. Her laughter dragged my eyes
from the ordinary street scene back to her. Apprehensive, I started
to walk towards her, because my path lay past her.

She stepped out of her car, continuing
to stare at me. I tried to look anywhere but at her. She had a nice
car – a shiny red Mercedes with even shinier mag wheels, but not
the newest model. I’d seen the newest ones in the doctors’ car park
at the hospital. Yet there was something in the lines of this
one...

"Now that's a nice car," I couldn't
stop myself from saying.

She smiled and motioned for me to come
closer. Her hair was a short, dark bob that shone in the sun, her
lips a glistening bright red that matched the car.

"My friend wants to ask you something,"
she said. Cracking open the car’s back door, she jerked her head in
the direction of the car’s interior.

I leaned on the door frame and stuck my
head inside with considerable curiosity. My eyes took a moment to
adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the tinted gloom.

There were two guys in there – one in
the passenger seat and another in the back. The one in the back was
breathing heavily, like he'd just finished a long sprint...or he
was making an obscene call. I could barely see his face, just his
eyes. His eyes were on me, wide as saucers.

Pervert
. I tried to back away,
but the bitch behind me didn't let me. She hit my diaphragm with
the heel of her hand, forcing my breath out in a huff. Unable to
breathe, the street stood still in my mind as I stared around,
desperately hoping for someone to see – someone who'd help me. Did
eyes meet mine? Did I imagine understanding? If it was, it came too
late. The burning flare that was my need to breathe exploded and
she shoved me into the car. I fell on flesh encased in fabric as I
gasped for breath, a flailing fish in the pervert’s lap as I lay
across the back seat. I dimly heard the doors and windows shut. The
motor hummed as the car accelerated away – before I had enough air
to scream.

Part 2

"And now in breaking news, Caitlin
Lockyer has been found. In the early hours of this morning, a man
discovered her body dumped on a south-west beach. Sources say that
she was left on the beach to die, but she was found in time and
moved to hospital in Perth, where she remains in a critical
condition. A police spokesperson would not confirm whether the girl
known as the Absent Angel is alive or dead…"

Let me know when you work it out, won't
you? I don't feel dead…

"Oh, turn that down. She's waking
up…Get a dressing over that one and we can make a start on these
ulcers…"

Unfamiliar hands touching me.
Unfamiliar voices talking about my injuries as dispassionately as a
GPS giving directions.

Is it safe to open my eyes? Are they
helping me, or do I need to fight my way free?
My head felt
full of thick fog, so the thoughts were slow to surface.

Pain made the decision for me – twin
pains. A sharp pull on my hair as someone tore the skin from my
back. I cried out, so I didn’t hear what the low voices murmured. A
cold touch of metal at the side of my neck.

Going to cut me again. It’s going to
hurt worse...

"No!" I shouted, or tried to. My voice
rasped in my throat.

I couldn’t feel my hands, but I still
tried to use them to push myself upright to a sitting position. The
moment I put weight on them, feeling returned. Pain shot up every
one of my fingers, through my wrists and up my arms, like
electrodes attached to every nerve. My scream sounded squeaky and
weak, which is why I heard the snip of the scissors.

I opened my eyes to see bright light,
briefly blocked by what was unmistakeably my hair.

The scissors cut my hair
, I
realised.
Taking everything away from me, even my hair.
Bastards.

"You promised!" I sobbed out. "You
promised you wouldn’t let them hurt me again. Please, come
back!"

He was shot. You saw the blood. If he’s
not here, is he even alive? Did they kill him?

I shook my head, trying not to see the
picture in my memory: his shock at the spreading patch of red on
his shirt, over his chest.

I focussed on the grinning pictures on
the ceiling above me. Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore, Mickey Mouse, Minnie
Mouse...

Eeyore I liked. He looked sympathetic.
I wanted to scream at the rest of them or scratch their eyes out.
Stop grinning at me like my pain is funny!

A concerned face came into view. "She’s
awake. Honey, can you hear me?"

"Yes," I told her impatiently. "Where
is he?"

"Who, honey? They can’t hurt you any
more," she said soothingly. Dropping her voice lower, she murmured,
"We need to give her more pain relief. This isn’t enough."

They can hurt me and he promised to
protect me. But he can’t if he’s dead and I can’t sleep until I
know where he is. I don’t even know his name.

I ignored the soothing woman, who
didn’t know what she was on about. "Where are you? Please, come
back. You promised."

Carefully, I pushed with my elbows and
not my hands this time. I struggled to sit up and see where I was.
Where he was.

Gloved hands weighed on my shoulders,
pushing me down. I took a swipe at the hands, growling, "Don’t
touch me!" as I collapsed on the bed again.

I turned my head as a shoe squeaked on
the vinyl floor. The soothing woman now had a syringe.
She’s
going to give me something that will make me sleep. They’ll kill me
in my sleep and I’ll never wake up!

I struggled to rise and this time they
didn’t stop me. Every head was turned away from me to the door of
what I recognised as a hospital room in an Emergency
Department.

Hey, the news got something right. I am
in hospital. But which one?

I heard his voice. I finally saw his
face clearly as he pushed past an orderly to enter the room. The
face of the man who killed another in an effort to protect me,
before the police shot him…
Fuck. Focus. Memories can
wait.

"Don’t let them hurt me again!" I
shouted at him as I lunged for the syringe with my uncooperative
fingers, before my arms gave out and I was lying flat on the bed
again. I couldn’t feel if I’d managed to snatch the syringe or just
knock it out of her hands. I didn’t have the energy to lift my arm
to check, either.

My eyes didn’t leave him. His face
looked pale and a bit scared, though he tried to keep his voice
calm. He had no shirt on and a white dressing, spotted with a
little fresh blood, looked like a misplaced breast pocket on his
bare chest. He said something about being in hospital, but I didn’t
catch the words.

"I’m so tired, but I’m scared to
sleep," I told him, my voice starting to give out as my eyes filled
with tears. "What if, when I wake up, you’re gone and I’m still
there with them? Please..." I didn’t know what to ask him for.
Please don’t be dead?

He promised he’d be here, again.

I could feel my mind going under. Like
drowning in a warm bath, only I could still breathe.
He
promised. Even if he’s dead, he was shot trying to help me.

"Thank you." I tried to say the words,
but I wasn’t sure if they came out right. Even the ghost of someone
killed trying to help me deserved my thanks.

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