Once I've fully revelled in the aftermath, I lift my hand and slap down on the camera button, shutting off the live stream. Rising from my seat, I grip the chair arms, pushing myself to my feet and I cast one last glance at his disfigured, lifeless body, before turning and leaving the room.
Walking down the short corridor, I push open another steel door and my eyes immediately land on the large pin board mounted on the wall, decorated with photographs of my victims—countless faces staring back at me, each representing a life I've taken. Retrieving a photograph from my jeans pocket, I approach the board, pinning the latest in its rightful place among the others.
Stepping back, my eyes wander over them all, each image telling a different story of how I murdered them, but smack bam in the middle of the sea of faces, one stands out, its presence like a thorn in my fucking side.
With a surge of bubbling anger, I tear the photograph from the board, holding it between my fingertips as I gaze down at it.With her head tilted down slightly, her long dark hair obscures most of her features in the photo. It's frustrating because it offers little to go on. This is the only image I have of her, but I've been told she has blue eyes. She’s the only one that has ever escaped me—the killer of my cousin, Haze. And she will be the only woman I will ever murder.Harley.
I’m chilling in the living room, and it's late. We've been here for a few days now, settling in before we both start tomorrow. Eli travelled to a local grocery store today and picked up some essentials for us. He seems to be less on edge since the first night we arrived, but I’ve had a problem finding my pills. They seemed to have disappeared out of E’s truck. I know it’s only a matter of time before I feel the full anxiety build within me without them, so I've been trying to relish the coziness of this trailer, enjoying that we finally have somewhere to stay.
I know I must find a doctor soon. Maybe I can speak to Madame about it. I am finding it almost impossible to fall asleep in bed, my routine is a mess. It seems my body had become way too comfortable with sleeping in chairs and the effects of craving my pills is keeping me up at night.
I rest my cheek on the comfy couch, my mind racing as I pull a thick blanket up to my chin. The air is cold around me tonight, but I continue to watch TV, the soft glow flickering in the darktrailer. Just as I'm about to drift off, something catches my eye in the window and my heart skips a beat, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention when I see his glowing, spiraling orbs staring back at me. He stands ominously, his silhouette still, yet I make no sudden movements.
I haven't faced Hellion since the night we met and he went on to invade my privacy by watching me in the fucking shower like a creep, but he came here again last night, watching me from outside until I fell asleep as well.
The man is fucking unhinged, his fixation on me becoming a disturbing game. He has only just met me, yet he's already crossed wild boundaries. I didn't entertain it the moment I saw him standing outside the bathroom window. It was too late to react; he had already seen me completely naked. There was a silent hope in his eyes for me to scream and panic, but soon enough, he will know that's not who I am. I've long shed any remnants of shame in being seen naked. Did he really believe he could break me down by doing that? I'm pretty sure in that moment he learned that I am not like the other girls he has messed with, but I think that entire situation has made things so much worse. I worry how much did Hellion see. Did he watch E fuck me? Did he see how I asked him to grab my throat and refused? Fuck. I think he did.
When I first met Eli, nothing about us was sexual. He didn't pressure me into doing anything, and when I first started riding in his car, I was nothing but a zombified shell that he didn't mind taking along on his journey. After some weeks or maybe months of constantly being with one another in the car or even in motels, one thing led to another, and we started sleeping together—but not often. It wasn't like we had a crazy connection or wild sex.
To be honest, it wasn't what I wanted. Sex is nothing to me; I don't really care for it, but I’m wise enough to know that'sprobably because I've never felt a connection with it. I can only imagine how great it must be to have feelings and love within a sexual relationship, but for me, I'm yet to experience that, and I worry that will never happen for me because I’m strange and cannot grasp it.
Eli hardly gets hard, and he isn't dominant, and I think sometimes I crave that to keep me grounded. My taste for pain and submission is far too great to ignore; my body screams at me that I need it to be able to feel or enjoy anything, but on my own terms. I will have to truly trust that person.
With Eli, the intimacy felt almost hurried, a simple routine we fell into rather than a passionate connection. He was gentle, which I appreciated back then, but it’s continued even after months, and it has meant that when we have sex it’s empty of what I need. I need someone who can match my darker desires, someone who understands the mix of pain and pleasure, someone that can make me feel truly alive. Because that’s what I want. To feel alive.
Eli’s softness and my own emotional detachment created a bridge between us that I can't seem to cross. I find myself aching for more—more intensity, more dominance, more of a raw, unfiltered hard fucking that would leave me feeling satisfied and maybe a little bit ashamed. It’s not that Eli is bad at it; it’s just that our sexual needs don’t align at all, which is a shame because he is a good person.
My thoughts return to Hellion and how his eyes flickered with rage when I turned around to see him standing there. I could see it on his face, he was pissed; he is definitely a dominant male, and I was stupid enough to play his game and boy did I feel a strange sensation from his eyes all over me. A sensation that has me questioning my own sanity.
Am I just as crazy as he is because somewhere, deep down, I’m kind of into it? Like, why am I doing little to nothing to stop it? Why am I not marching to Madame’s office to tell her that her golden boy is creeping me the fuck out? Why am I allowing him to watch me as I sleep? I’m starting to ask myself if I am more attracted to his danger than I want to admit.
I try not to entertain his strange behavior because the shivers and fright this man injects into my bones are unlike anything I have ever felt before, but at least he is making me feel something other than numbness. I’ve never had a man make me feel such an array of emotions before.
He just peers through the window, doing absolutely nothing else and I always wonder what the fuck is going through this maniac’s mind. Is he tempted to come in and hurt me? Is he fantasizing about me? Fuck, of course he is.
God, I need to ask Madame to put some damn curtains in here. The thought of him lurking around out there at night, stalking me with those eerie eyes makes my skin crawl in the most fucked-up ways possible, yet I allow it.
As I try to concentrate on the TV, his overpowering dark presence is impossible to ignore. Every muscle in my body is coiled tightly, every instinct screaming at me to run, to hide, to do something other than lay here and pretend I am not terrified.
I take a deep breath and force myself to stay still, to keep my gaze steady. I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he unsettles me.
Eventually, the weight of my exhaustion overpowers my fear, and my eyelids grow heavier. I know I need to get some rest, but the thought of closing my eyes while he watches me is almost unbearable. Yet, with a final, defiant glance at the window, I allow myself to sink deeper into the couch, the blanket pulledtightly around me, ready to sleep again under the watchful gaze of Hellion.
Two Years ago…
Curled up in a ball on the hard, dusty floor, I shiver in nothing but a thin white nightie. The freezing cold bites my skin, and I gaze through a small crack in the boarded-up window, staring at the bright moon peeking through, the ray of light beaming down on me at a distance. In a daze, I slowly draw the tip of my finger on the wooden floor, quietly humming a song my mom used to sing to me when I was little. When she was alive. My body shudders, slowly shutting down from days without water and a week without food. A tear attempts to slip from my dry, sore eyes as I try to think about other things, but all my memories have been replaced with darkness.
Hearing heavy footsteps approaching from down the hall, I start to sit up, the shackle on my ankle rattling as I get onto my knees. I keep my head lowered, stars forming in my vision from the sudden elevation. The door creaks open, but I don’t meet his gaze, his presence is so vile that it makes me want to puke. His heavy footsteps inch toward me, each step calculated, my heart pounding in my chest. He stops not far from me and suddenly pours water onto the floor, a lot of it. On instinct, I scurry forward on my hands and knees, desperate for moisture.
Just as I reach the puddle, he steps in it, his shoes caked in mud, mixing with the water. I halt, my body trembling, eyes wide. I shake my head frantically, tears struggling to fall, they want to, but they’re unable too. I start hyperventilating, anger swirling inside me, and I stand quickly, my mind almost going blank. I scream, attacking him with my frail fists, hammeringdown on his suit-covered chest, each strike doing nothing against his solid frame.
He pulls his hand back and smacks me across the face with a hard blow. I spin and fall to the floor frontally, drifting in and out of consciousness. He flips me onto my back, kneeling between my legs. As I faintly hear his zipper drag down, his harsh words reach my ears, “Just like your cunt mother, a dirty filthy bitch that never learns.”
I hear another pair of footsteps entering the room, stopping beside my head. “She wants water so bad?” Kai sneers above me.
Suddenly a dust bag is thrusted over my head, the string tightening around my throat. Panic seizes me, and I instinctively try to tear it off, but Kyro wraps the string around his hand, trapping me. Water starts to pour slowly on my face, seeping through the bag and suffocating me. I choke and cough, my body convulsing as I struggle for air. Kyro’s presence looms between my thighs, a dark promise of what’s to come, as he prepares to take full advantage of my helplessness.
My vision fades, the weight of their words pressing down as heavily as his body, and I slip into darkness, clinging to the memory of my mother’s lullaby, the only light in this consuming abyss.
