Chapter 8 Chapter 8
“Stop moving like that, Darling, or you’ll hurt yourself.” The voice said, the voice was muffled and quiet, and I stopped screaming for a second and tried to focus and not let the fear and panic override my brain.
I was lying on something soft, a bed, my bed. I was still at home; my arms and feet were tied to the four corners of the bed. I still had my clothes on. I felt his hands on my body again, and the urge to vomit was strong. I felt the bed dip, making my body shift, as he got onto the bed with me. I could feel his breath on my neck. Then the smell hit me, a strong metallic smell with what smelled like plastic, and it made me dizzy.
“So fucking beautiful, so perfect,” he said, and I felt disgusted. He always said that.
“So, you've stopped running. You're exactly where you belong," he said, his voice muffled and quiet. "Now, my clever little escape artist, let's talk. I'll remove the gag...and if you scream, then I'll punish you,” he said in that same possessive and obsessed tone that terrified me.
I felt him move as he began to slowly remove the gag. I hesitated for two seconds; the minute the gag was gone, I opened my mouth to scream, and his hands closed around my throat, squeezing.
“Now why would you do that?” He asked, I felt the bed dip again, and he leaned forward and kissed me. I twisted my head to the side, and he grabbed my neck tighter, forcing my head back as he kissed me again, but I refused to accept it, and he began chuckling.
“You are such a masterpiece. Let’s see how much fire you have in you,” he said, and I felt something pointed, cold, and sharp against my stomach. Then the quiet was filled with the sound of fabric being cut. The cold air hit my bare stomach, and I knew he was going to do it all over again; he was going to rape me, and a sob escaped my lips. When his hands closed over my breast, I let the tears fall.
“Why don’t you just kill me and end it, Alex?” I said through tears, and all the moments stopped. He had his hands around my throat again.
“Who… the… fuck… is… Alex?” He asked in a voice low, cold, and dangerous; each word was followed by a tightening grip around my throat, and a new sickening fear took place. This wasn't Alex; this was someone else, and that terrified me more than the thought of it being Alex. Alex was a monster, I knew; this person was a complete stranger.
I stopped crying. Everything, the pain, the fear of the blade, and the violation of the kiss vanished, replaced by a cold, searing terror I hadn’t known existed. This wasn't the monster I had memorized. This was a monster I didn't know how to fight. I felt his hands tighten again, not enough to kill me, but enough to crush the air from my lungs and make my vision swim. His rage was cold. It wasn't the uncontrolled, sweaty fury of Alex. It was controlled, calculated, and terrifyingly precise.
“Answer me, Tessa,” he ground out, using my name like a curse. His voice was no longer muffled. It was raw, low, and dangerously clear. It was deep, resonating in my chest like a bass drum. It was familiar. Not Alex's familiar, but... another kind. Where have I heard that voice? The question flickered, but panic was faster.
I twisted my head, tears streaming sideways into the blindfold, desperate to escape the pressure.
"I... I don't know," I choked out, a ragged whisper. "Please... let me go. Why are you doing this to me?"
He laughed, a sound as sharp and metallic as the smell in the air. "Oh, you know exactly why. You just don't know what I'm doing." He pulled his hands back, and the sudden rush of air made me cough violently. I lay there panting, trying to stabilize my breathing. I had to focus. I was blindfolded, but my other senses had to compensate. I focused on the air. The metallic smell was still there, but beneath it, something else clean, almost clinical, like new carpet or expensive leather.
“Last chance, darling, Who is Alex?” He asked again but refused to answer. I wasn't going to give him any more ammunition.
“If you’re going to kill me, then fucking do it,” I yelled.
“If you want to rape me, then go a-fucking-head; that won’t be something new.” I yelled.
I felt the bed move, and he began cutting away my shorts. “Please don't," I whispered.
“Then answer my question. Who? The. Fuck. Is Alex?” he asked again. I swallowed hard.
“My… rapist?” I whispered.
“What the fuck did you just say?” He asked, and this time his voice wasn't cold rage; it was fury.
“He will never fucking lay eyes on you ever again,” he said with that same possessive tone, and it scared me. I felt him move; he got off the bed. He grabbed my feet, and I felt him undoing the rope off my feet.
“Answer me. Truthfully,” he said.
"Is he the reason you work cash jobs alone?" he asked, and I paused; he had been watching me.
“Tessa?”
“Yes.”
“Who exactly is he?” he asked, and I shook my head no. His hands closed around my throat. “Answer me.” His voice held an authoritative tone.
“My stepbrother”
“Did you just say your stepbrother?” He asked, and I wanted to answer, but the words couldn't get past my throat.
“Answer me, Tessa. Start from the beginning," he said. I had never told a soul about this, and here I was about to tell a man that had me tied me to a bed, probably my own.
“I grew up in Texas. My mother left after I was born. My dad took care of me, and he did a great job. I was fifteen when Gracie Rusland met him; within six months she and her stepson Alex moved in; he was seventeen. Dad was happy for the first time. It was all good for a few months. Dad had gotten a new job: truck driver. He was away from home a lot. At first I didn't mind because Gracie wasn't that bad.”
“It was the second week after he left; it started small. Alex would barge into the shower while I was in there. Barge into my room while I was changing. When Dad came back I told him, but they convinced him I was lying and that I was going through that phase. She convinced him that I was hanging out with the boys at the gas station and that I was on the phone all hours and sending nude pictures. He believed it and took away my phone and broke it.”
“One night He was out with his friend and came back drunk. Whenever Dad was on the road, Gracie was rarely home. He raped me that night and every other night until I was seventeen."