Scars: Book One (9 page)

He
didn’t come back for a long time. I fell asleep, despite the throbbing pain in
my hand. I liked being asleep; it was my favorite thing to do. But I woke up
when the door banged open, and the smell of liquor permeated through to me, my
eyes flew open in fright just in time to see Aaron stumble into the room. He
had a full glass of whiskey in hand and half of that sloshed onto the floor as
he nearly tripped.

He
looked down at the floor and gave a small laugh. “Fuck.”

Fuck

I
sat up in preparation.

He
put the glass down on the bedside table beside me, before kicking off his shoes
and taking off his top. The jeans were more of a challenge; he sat heavily down
on the bed, nearly on top of me, so he could maneuver them off his legs. His
boxers came down with them, and he bundled them up and tossed them over to the
dresser.

He
reached for the whiskey glass again, but instead of putting it to his own lips,
he grabbed the back of my neck. “Here, this will help with the pain.” He tried
putting the glass to my lips, but I attempted to turn my head and his hold
tightened. We struggled like that until some of the liquid made it into me, and
the rest spilled down onto my chest.

He
released my neck as he looked down at the now stained sheets and my booze
soaked breasts with a look of dismay on his face. “Fuck,” he said again. “Do
you know how old that scotch was? Do you know how much that little bit was
worth?”

I
didn’t answer him, and I wondered what my chances were of having him pass out
drunk right at that moment.

Then
he met my eyes and gave a wicked grin. “I ain’t wasting it.”

I
tried to edge away as much as being trussed to the bed would allow, but his
hands, now empty of the glass, firmly gripped my hips. I watched him as he
lowered his head and started to lick at the scotch or whatever it was that had
trailed down between my breasts. He worked slowly as if savoring it before
moving over to my breast to lap at what remained there. I shifted my hips in
response and his grip tightened as his mouth closed over my nipple, and he
began to suck and tease at it. I blushed at how hard it had become. When he
pulled his mouth back to inspect his work, he grinned before moving over to the
other breast. When that too was as hard and aroused as it could get, he moved
and kissed my neck.

“You
like that, huh?” he murmured against my skin.

“No.”
There was a hardness to my voice that made him raise his head to look at me. I
tried not to flinch at the alcohol on his breath and the amused smile on his
face annoyed me.

“No?”
he said softly. One of his hands had released my hip and was rubbing along my
thigh. “Are you sure? You just told me you were a whore?” he teased. “Rachel
the whore.” His other hand was rubbing my other thigh now. “How many men have you
slept with, Rachel?”

I
kept my mouth firmly shut.

“Ten?
Twenty? How old were you your first time? Was he gentle with you?” His fingers
moved to stroke in between my legs and I tried to keep my face emotionless. He
moved closer to whisper in my ear, “Did he play with you like this and get you
all wet?” His fingers were lightly circling my clit now, and I bit my lip. “Or,
was he rough? Did he just bend you over and take you until his cock was covered
in your blood?”

 
I shut my eyes, but not soon enough to stop a tear running down my cheek.
Horrible memories and horrible present combined with that pleasant feeling
between my legs made me so confused I felt like I was going crazy.

“I
can be gentle with you, Rachel. If you want?” came the whisper.

More
tears leaked out, and their presence made me angry. With my wounded hand, I
shoved at him. In his drunken state, I took him by surprise and he fell onto
his side. He rolled onto his back and barked out a laugh.

“Seriously,
Rachel? When did you get so picky? You know I’m gonna make you pay for that.”

I
turned away from him.

“What?
Not talking to me now?” He put his hand on my hip and pushed, forcing me onto
my back. I met his eyes.

“You
should get some sleep. I’m sure you need to be well rested to spend all day
being a sick and twisted monster.” At least my tears had stopped, and my words
came out without shaking.

He
raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think I am?” He nodded to himself. “I
guess I can’t blame you.”

“Don’t
you have a job or something that you need to get back to?” I asked him,
witheringly.

He
gave a smile. “Let’s just say that I’ve proven myself to my employers. They’re
pretty flexible when it comes to me.”

“What
do you do?”

He
shrugged and gave a laugh like there was some kind of private joke that I
didn’t know about. “I take care of problems.”

I
swallowed. “Problems like me? Is this what you do to all your ‘problems’?”

He
let out another drunken laugh. “Usually I get rid of them quickly. This is
personal.”

I
raised myself up so I was sitting again. “Are you going to kill me?” My voice
shook.

His
smile dropped. “I don’t normally kill little girls.”

I
lifted my wounded hand and held it against my head. “No. But he will, won’t
he?”

“He’s
not a killer, Rachel.”

It
was my turn to let out a laugh; it was a hollow and painful sound. “Isn’t he?
What about that girl he had kept in his house?”

His
eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”

I
ignored him. “Is she dead? Did
you
kill her? How come she disappeared?”
My voice rose in panic.

He
sat up as well and thought for a moment before speaking. “She’s not dead. She
was an illegal immigrant. She didn’t speak to the cops because she probably
would have been deported. After she was okay to leave the hospital, she was
given enough money to go somewhere else.”

My
panic subsided a little bit, but my heat still beat fast.

“So
it that what you two do together? Kidnap and torture?”

His
jaw hardened. “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t involved with it.”

“Then
how was it?” My fingers gripped the sheet.

He
rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to explain anything to you, Rachel.”

“I
know,” I rushed out. “I know you don’t. But I
need
to know. Please.”

The
look in his eyes was scary, and I half expected him to hit me. But he didn’t.

“He
thought he loved her; she screwed around on him while he kept her in an
extravagant lifestyle. When he found out, he went a little crazy. It’s hard not
to go crazy when everyone shits on you all the time, Rachel.”

“I
know that,” I bit out. “But he’s going to kill me, and you’re going to stand by
and let him. The stuff he did before…I’ve paid for anything bad that I did ten
times over.” I pulled at my harnessed hand and the cable tie bit into my wrist.
I didn’t care, the pain felt good, so I kept pulling.

“Stop.”
He leaned over and clamped a hand down on my wrist so I couldn’t move. “You
need to calm down before you have another panic attack. Stop hurting yourself
or I’ll tie you up so you can’t.”

I
stopped, and he let go of my hand. I lay down and turned onto my side as I
began to cry. He switched off the lamp beside him, plunging us into darkness.

Finally,
he sighed. “You know, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to put you back in
your own room.”

I
stifled my sobs. I didn’t want to go back in that room with the lock on the
door.

When
I woke up, the sun was peeking through the curtains, and I urgently needed to
pee. Aaron was lying practically comatose beside me. I didn’t want to wake him,
but I was scared that I’d have an accident if I weren’t allowed near a toilet
soon.

“Aaron,”
I said in a quiet voice. He didn’t stir.

“
Aaron
.”
He snorted in his sleep.

I
kicked him in the ribs, not too gently, and he awoke quickly. He sat up
straightaway staring at me.

“Did
you just kick me?”

I
shook my head. “No, I just said your name. I need to use the bathroom really
badly.”

“You
did kick me.”

“I
didn’t kick you. Please, I have to go.” I clamped my legs together. “I don’t
want to have an accident in your bed.”

He
sighed and threw the blankets off him, before standing and grabbing a pair of
boxer shorts. Then he fished out a knife from his jeans and cut through the
cable tie. He grabbed my arm and yanked me after him as he stumbled to the
bathroom like he was still half drunk. He obviously didn’t deal with hangovers
very well.

He
must have cleaned up the glass from the mirror because the floor was clean. He
let go of my arm, and I rushed to the toilet, just making it on time.

He
walked over to the vanity and splashed water over his face. “Man, I feel like
shit,” he mumbled, before turning to me. “You finished yet? You need to make me
breakfast and coffee. Lots of coffee.”

He
sat at the table after swallowing a few painkillers, and I started cooking for
him. I knew he was still watching me as I worked, but he wasn’t in his usual
predatory form because he was too fucked from the alcohol. Now would be the
time to run for it…if I had clothes, and the door wasn’t locked, and I weren’t
in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I
burned my good hand and didn’t even flinch.

I
set the plate down in front of him, and he didn’t even notice when I sat in a
chair at the table with him. He only ate a little bit of the food, before he
shoved the plate at me. Then he sat with his head in his hands at the table.

After
I had finished, I started cleaning the kitchen and once I was done I sat back
down at the table. He finally moved, and it was like it pained him.

“Get
up, go upstairs.”

I
obeyed, with him right behind me. He manhandled me into the room with the lock and
went to close the door.

“Wait,”
I called.

He
paused and rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Don’t
lock me in here, please?” I didn’t want to spend my last days on this earth
locked in a tiny room and going crazy.

“I
have to get some more sleep,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“You
could tie me up, or something.” I didn’t like how desperate my voice was
sounding.

He
groaned. “Fine.”

I
followed him down into the living room. He used the handcuffs to fasten me to a
heavy side table so I sat on the floor. I didn’t mind; this room was pleasant
with the fire going, and it was better than that bedroom. Then he collapsed
down on the couch without another word to me and closed his eyes.

I
sat there, bored and scared, but at least I was warm. I studied his face. He
was so still that I wondered whether he was actually asleep at all. But after
at least twenty minutes of no movement, I figured it was safe to go for the diary
that sat on the armchair. It took some doing for me to stretch my legs
sufficiently to reach it. But eventually I got it and opened it in my trapped
hands.

I
flicked through it. Most of it was mind-numbingly boring about AA meetings and
nightmares. I reached the page where we went to the zoo. It was soon after we’d
moved in, and I’d yet to make a move on him.

It
was his idea to go to the zoo and even though I was way too old for that kind
of thing, I had been strangely touched. It was a nice day as we walked around;
he and Mom were hand in hand, and he ensured that I never felt left out. For a
moment, I felt like I was part of some kind of TV family and not just acting.

Mom
ruined it when he went to get us ice cream. She pulled me aside.

“Seriously?
You should have worn something
sluttier,”
she had hissed in my ear. “You
need to get your ass into gear, young lady.”

I’d
shrugged her hand off my arm in such a way that we were normal mother and
sullen daughter to any onlookers.

“Relax.
I’ll make my move soon.”

I
didn’t let her know about my reluctance. She wouldn’t have cared. But secretly,
I thought about our life staying like this. I liked him. I really did.

His
diary entry was so normal. He sounded so happy. He thought he’d found love.

An
unpleasant feeling twisted inside me.

Guilt.

I
threw the diary back onto the chair with amazing precision considering how
restricted my hands were. I didn’t want to touch it anymore. If I were close
enough, I would have chucked it in the fire.

And
then outside I heard a noise. It took me a moment to realize that it was a car.

Someone
was here.

He
seemed to take an agonizingly long time to work through the locks on the front
door. My hands tightened around the leg of the table as I waited. I wondered
what I looked like cuffed here. Bare breasted with only that ridiculous
transparent G-string for modesty, and that dog collar firmly around my throat
to remind me of my status.

 Aaron
didn’t stir at all as the front door finally creaked open, and footsteps sounded
in the hall. I stared at the doorway, waiting.

He
looked older and thinner than last time I saw him. But he was still strong and
tall. He let the leather bag he was holding drop to his feet with a soft thud
as he took in the scene. His eyes scooted over me and then his face relaxed
into a smile, and he walked closer.

He
crouched down beside me, fingering the cuffs and nodded approvingly. “Hey,
sweetheart. You missed me?”

I
just looked at him silently while his smile widened.

“What’s
wrong? Cat got your tongue?” A hand reached out to stroke my hair. “Don’t
worry. I’ve got better uses for that pretty little mouth of yours.” I didn’t
even flinch under his touch. I just hoped that I could disassociate.

Disassociate.
I hadn’t even known what that word meant until after a night of sharing secrets
with Mara and Torrance, Mara said that’s what she used to do when her uncle
used to creep into her room at night. It was like she wasn’t really there, and
later she couldn’t remember large patches of what actually happened.

That
was the same as me.

The
only downside, Mara had said, was that it made you more fucked up later on. I
didn’t care. I needed my brain to be on my side to get through this. Something
had to go my way for once.

He
didn’t wake Aaron. He located the handcuff key sitting on the kitchen table and
made quick work of releasing me, before grabbing my arms and yanking me up. He
picked up his bag on our way out of the living room, but instead of going up
the stairs, he turned to the back of the house.

This
room was nicer. The bed was neatly made, and tacky paintings of flowers and
fruit hung on the walls. Once there must have been a cross hanging over the bed
because the outline was still clear and remarkably white against the rest of
the yellowing wallpaper. He shut the door behind him and watched me. I forced
my hands into fists so that they wouldn’t shake as he circled me.

“Look
at you, all grown up.” He let out a low whistle. “But I didn’t say you could
have underwear. Take ‘em off.”

I
slid the G-string off and let it fall to the floor with reluctance. It may have
been a stupid gift, but it had come from Finn. And right now, I missed the hell
out of him.

He
went and sat on the bed, and motioned for me to come over.
“Get my cock out and get your slutty little mouth to work. You know how I like
it.”

I
felt like a robot, a machine, as I tried to make it good. But it wasn’t good
enough and before long he was grabbing the back of my head so I couldn’t pull
away as he thrust into me. I gagged as he choked me with it, and I pushed at
him. He pulled out and smacked me hard in the face. Warm blood trickled out of
my nose.

He
trapped my chin between his thumb and forefinger and shook his head sadly. “I
really thought the boy would have taught you to behave by now.” Another sharp
blow to the face sent me reeling onto the floor. “Now, get over here and suck
me off good and proper.”

Before
he let me at his dick again, he grabbed a full whiskey bottle out of his bag
and started to drink right from the bottle. Then he cuffed my arms behind my
back before pushing my mouth down on him again. I gagged, but I didn’t
struggle.

Most
of the day was spent with him treating me like some kind of plaything. I bit
down on the bed covers to stop from screaming, but when he figured out what I
was doing, he made me stop.

Everything
felt unreal. Like I wasn’t really there, yet I was. I wondered if my mind would
break after this.

When
he rolled off me, I managed to work up the courage to ask him for permission to
use the toilet. I needed to go desperately and had been scared that I would pee
while he was pounding away at me.

He
gave a small smile which instantly put me on edge. “Go on then.”

I
darted out of the bed as fast as my pained body would allow, but he caught me
before I could make it to the door. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind,” he said
with a smirk.

I
shook my head at him. “Please, I really have to–“

He
reached over and pressed against my bladder. That was all that was needed,
because to my horror, a stream of urine rushed from me, sliding down my thighs
to form a puddle on the floor beneath me. I gasped in humiliation although part
of me wondered why I would find this so humiliating when I had suffered so many
indignities already.

He
shook his head with a pleased smile on his face. “My, you really are a filthy
girl, aren’t you?”

I
was fighting back tears and didn’t answer. He didn’t like that. “Answer me!”

“I’m
filthy.”

“And
disgusting,” he prompted.

“I’m
filthy and disgusting.”

“That’s
right.”

Disassociate,
just disassociate…

When
he got hungry, or bored, I was forced to my knees to sit in the puddle of urine
with my hands bound behind me, a scarf covering my eyes and a gag in my mouth.

I
couldn’t cry anymore at that stage. If what he wanted to achieve was to
dehumanize and degrade me, so I wasn’t even a person anymore, then he had
succeeded. I wanted to die.

I
flinched as I heard the door open. The person just stood there, and it was a
while before I heard footsteps. A hand took my upper arms and forced me to my
feet. I was led stumbling up the stairs. The shower was turned on, and I was
guided under the spray as hands soaped at me. I hissed as the spray hit my
anus, and he didn’t touch that area. Once I was rinsed off, I was taken out and
sat on the closed lid of the toilet. Only then did the gag get taken out, my
arms freed and blindfold removed.

Aaron
stood in front of me, holding my toothbrush out to me. I couldn’t read the look
on his face, so I took the toothbrush and limped to the vanity. As I started to
brush, the urge to vomit overcame me and I rushed to the toilet to empty my
stomach. I didn’t look at Aaron as I stood shakily again to try and brush my
teeth.

When
I’d finished, I turned to him. He lounged in the doorway, arms crossed against
his chest.

“Why
don’t you just kill me? It’s what you do, isn’t it?” My voice was a rasp after
all that abuse. It hurt to talk.

He
cleared his throat. “There’s some food in your room. Why don’t you eat it and
then try and get some sleep.” He moved aside and I walked past him unsteadily
to reach the bedroom.

I
crawled under the blanket, curled up and faced the wall.

“You
should eat something.”

I
bit my lip and then forced myself to speak again. “Is this what you two did
with that girl?”

I
was met with silence, and I thought he mustn’t have been there anymore but then
he spoke.

“It
wasn’t like this, Rachel. That was different.”

I
ignored him, and after a moment the door closed.

I
couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even close my eyes, I felt like I was wired – maybe
that was the combination of the fear and adrenalin. My heart was beating so
fast that I hoped it would give out. Everything in me shook.