Raw: The Ultimate Mc Collection (23 page)

He looks like he’s gained a few pounds,
I thought, a million miles outside of my body already.

“You belong to me, you fucking cunt. And don’t you forget it. Paid in full, Lacey.”

He stopped hitting me, and grabbed my hair, wrapping my now flat and tangled hair around his fingers and pulling backwards hard and fast.

“You’re mine, you fucking understand?  I say who you talk to, what you do, and who you fuck!  Your job is to obey!” he growled, his grip tightening in my hair.

“And since you didn’t obey,” he seethed, “you’re useless to me now.  I can’t trust you.  And what do you think that means for me, Lacey?”

I said nothing.  I knew better.  There was nothing I could say that would make him stop. 

He reached down with his other hand and ripped my panties from me.

“How could you?  After all these years?  I trusted you, and you’ve ruined it all, you stupid fucking whore!  I think you need a reminder of just who you fucking belong to before I kill you!”  I heard the jingling of his belt buckle and closed my eyes.

Monty stood naked before me, but I kept my eyes closed, just as I always did every other time he raped me.  His cold hands ripped my dress from my body, and I lay on the floor below him, wearing nothing but my bra, streaks of blood on my chest, and dozens of fresh bruises that I knew would turn a myriad of colors before magically fading away over the next few days.

He slapped me across the face one more time before he started to mount me.

“You better enjoy this, because it’s the last cock you’re ever going to get!”  he snarled, his fingers wrapping around my throat.

My eyes twitched and throbbed, as I clenched them closed tightly.

And then, as if it had a mind of its own, my knee shot up before he could enter me, swift and hard, snapping up like a rubber band, making contact with his balls with a loud crack.  He grunted and fell off of me, and I opened my eyes.  His hands cupped his balls as his eyes rolled in the back of his head.

For a split second, I watched him in shock, frozen in time. 

Look what you did, Lacey!

I had never fought back before. Something switched inside of me, a strength had bubbled up inside of me that I didn’t know was there.  I jumped to my feet and moved away from him.  My broken stiletto lay on the carpet and in a daze, I reached for it.

Monty moaned, still grabbing his balls with one hand reaching for my ankle with the other.  I kicked, freeing myself from his weak grip, but stumbling into the table next to the couch.  A glass lamp fell to the ground, shattering and scattering splinters of glass on the carpet around him.

My eyes trailed from the broken heel in my hand and then to Monty, my tormentor for the last six years withering on the floor, and back again to the spiky heel.

Monty’s eyes were filled with savage anger and shock that I had finally lashed out.  He began to rise to his knees, and I knew he was coming for me.

He’s going to kill you, Lacey!

In a rush of movement, I was on him, my fist slicing through the air and stabbing him right in the chest, the stiletto sinking into his flesh smoothly, the force of the blow knocking us both to the ground, as I fell on top of him.  Our eyes met and he looked at me with astonishment.  

“You fucking cunt!” he gasped.

Blood began bubbling out of his mouth.  I pulled the heel out of his chest and sank it right back in, over and over.  Huge ribbons of thick, sticky blood spurted from his chest, splattering all over me.

My arm stopped moving. I gasped for breath, sobbing. My heart felt as if it would explode in my chest.  I looked down at Monty and cried out.

His blue eyes stared up at me, eerily vacant, hauntingly dark.

Very, very dead.

The strength faded from my body, my consciousness began to weaken, and I laid down beside him, gasping for breath, searching for the one peaceful place that I possessed within me, letting the sweet darkness engulf me as I eventually drifted as far away as my body would let me go.

***

Throbbing.  

Pounding, exploding heat.

My hands flew to my head as I tried to stop the pain thrashing through me.  The throbbing was deafeningly loud, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was my heart beat.

I shot up, opening my eyes, seeing nothing but darkness.  My hands reached down, feeling the familiar carpet below me.

My apartment.

I was safe.

The events of the night before rushed back slowly, as did the pain.  It spread through my consciousness and my body with equal speed, planting a deep ball of misery firmly in my gut.

I fell back on the floor, miserable, spent.  I wouldn’t be able to leave my apartment for days, weeks maybe, depending on the damage Monty had done to my face.  I reached up and touched my already swollen cheek, and winced.  He had been especially vicious this time.

Oh, how I fucking hated him with all of my soul.  No wonder I had gotten in the car with the stupid cop.  I was desperate for a way out.  A new life.

I sighed, turning over and curling my body into a fetal position. A new life. It was never going to happen.

At least I would have a few days of peace and quiet in my apartment.  I might have to deal with Monty, but I wouldn’t have to see anyone else.

Monty was funny that way.  He didn’t mind beating me, but he sure as hell didn’t want anyone knowing he did it.

The clock in my living room was the only light in the room, and I was surprised to see it was only four in the morning.  It seemed like I had slept for days, but it must have only been hours.

I didn’t remember Monty leaving, but come to think of it, I didn’t remember much at all.  The last thing I could recall was drifting off just as Monty had taken his cock out. I was grateful that was where my memories ended. I had plenty of memories of Monty raping me already, it was a relief to forget one of them.

I outstretched my arms in the darkness, also grateful that I had a home to call my own, that I didn’t have to share with another girl.  I knew a lot of women didn’t even have that.  I jumped when my fingers hit cold flesh.

“Monty?” I whispered.  I hadn’t heard him breathing next to me, and it was so dark, I hadn’t noticed him still there.  It wasn’t like Monty to stay overnight, he usually left me alone after he was done with me.

He didn’t stir.  Quietly, I stood and walked to the bathroom in the dark.  I closed the door, and flipped on the light switch.

I padded over to the toilet and sat down, my head groggy, my limbs stiff, my body shooting pain straight to my brain with every step.  I sat down and looked at my hands.

Blood.

My eyes trailed to my arms, my chest, my stomach.

Blood.

My bra.

Soaked in blood.

My thighs, my feet.

Blood.

Slowly, I stood and looked in the mirror over the vanity.

I was covered.  Head to toe.

Blood.

Dripping from my hair, under my fingernails, on my eyelids, in my nostrils.

Blood.  Way too much blood.

Slowly, I walked out of the bathroom and back into the darkness of the living room.

“Monty?” I whispered again.  No answer.

I switched on the light.

The heel of my favorite shoe stuck straight out of Monty’s chest, and his dead eyes stared straight up at the ceiling.

I looked down at my blood soaked body and screamed, as everything came rushing back to me.

I ripped the bra from my body, and ran into the bathroom.  I threw on the hot water, and scrubbed my skin for what seemed like hours, hysterically crying the whole time.

I wasn’t crying because Monty was dead. 

I was crying because I was finally free.

I smiled to myself as I washed my hair.  It was good he was gone!  It was fucking wonderful, in fact! And if this is what it took to get him out of my life, then fuck it!  I didn’t feel one bit of regret for killing him.

All I needed to do now was get away.  And that was going to be the most difficult part of all.

You didn’t just kill the Mayor of Seattle and get away with it.  Especially a man like Monty.  I couldn’t just leave, they would never let me get away on my own.

Panic threatened to overwhelm me, but I pushed it away.  In the time it took to wash away all the blood, I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I dried off, threw on my robe, and went back into the living room.

Monty hadn’t moved.

I looked at my tormentor, laying there motionless, lifeless,  worthless…and it was one of the best feelings I had ever had.

I knew freedom was going to taste delicious, but I was shaking with nerves.  I wasn’t there yet.  My plan hinged on one thing - I had only one chance, and I had no choice but to reach out and hope it worked.

I found the card on the floor, under the coffee table near my bra, wrinkled and caked with drops of blood.  I grabbed my phone, and with trembling fingers, dialed the only hope in hell that I had of surviving.

When I heard the voice on the other end, I burst out in tears.

“What’s the password?” the voice on the other end asked.

“S-s-sanctuary?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“Hello, dear. My name is Grace. You’ve reached Solid Ground. Are you in a safe place right now?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Riot

“I got a call,” Grace said. “We don’t have much time.”

“What do you need?”  I asked.  She had gathered the Gods together at a decidedly ungodly hour.  Doc, our resident doctor, a retired Army medic, sat at the end of the table, sleepily rubbing his eyes, his wild grey curls sticking out in every direction.  Slade, my best friend and  fighting partner, sat next to me, his eyes bloodshot, no doubt a remnant of last night’s partying.  As always, Ryder was at the head of the table, with Grace sitting closely on his right. 

“In this case, I’m not sure.  She’s in Seattle, we need to get on the road.  I’ll figure out a plan on the way.  And well…this time, there’s a dead body involved.”

Slade whistled next to me.

“Well,” he replied, “Riot and I can take care of that easily.”  He was right.  This was not unchartered territory.  When Ryder had found Grace unconscious and about to be killed on the side of the road leading to our clubhouse, he had killed her attacker.  When he got back to the clubhouse, he assigned us with the gruesome task of disposing of the body.  It wasn’t hard at all.  Especially once we saw what kind of shape Grace was in.  It was easy to pour the gasoline, strike the match, and watch it burn.  In fact, it was almost pleasurable.

“Let’s get going.  We’ll take the van.  Bring your weapons, just in case.  Leave your cuts behind,” Ryder said.  We all nodded in agreement, removing our patched and worn leather vests that symbolized our loyalty on the table.  “Get your shit together and let’s all meet outside in five minutes.  It’s going to be a long drive.”

And it was.  We drove the three hours north, watching the sun rise above us as we made our way up the highway to Seattle.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lacey

I always imagined it would be creepy being in the same room with a dead body.  I was right.

After I hung up the phone, I went over and closed Monty’s eyes, and then covered him up with a sheet.

“There,” I said, standing over him.  His foot protruded from the bottom of the sheet, blood splattered across his expensive Italian leather shoe. He would have been mortified.

There was so much blood, I couldn’t believe it.  How could we both have been so saturated? It was hard to believe I had managed to slay him so violently.

Part of me couldn’t believe he was dead.  I half-expected him to jump up and start screaming.

Slowly, I reached out and poked his ankle with my fingertip.  His flesh was cold, stiff, blue.  He hardly moved. I reached down and pulled the sheet over his foot and turned away.