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Chapter Nine
Teddy
As I lay here and he gently rubs my sore bum, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cherished.
I’m coming to realize that I truly do trust Branson in so many ways. As I think about it, it occurs to me that he is the only person who has never let me down, never hurt me. No more than I could stand, anyway. I think a part of him really does want to hurt me and doesn’t want to admit it. I can’t wait to push him that extra bit further, past that guilt I’m sure he feels.
He’s fucking incredible, and it’s me—and only me—who can pull those last shreds of that broken boy away to reveal the magnificent and bloody man beneath.
Once I’m untied, I quickly crawl up into his arms, feeling satiated.
After a few minutes, I turn to click on the TV, turning on something low and handing him the remote. He smiles lightly and holds his arms out for me again.
“I’m going to go grab us some drinks,” I tell him, leaning up to kiss him lightly before standing and throwing one of my loose dresses over my head.
“Where?” he asks, his brow knit together, and I can’t help but smirk at his concern.
“Just around the corner. I’ll only be a few minutes,” I assure him, grabbing my purse and the room key and heading out the door.
It’s late, but there are still a few random people in the shadows of the distance, drug addicts or perhaps a whore and her john. Places like this are strangely comforting to me, though I know the rest of the world would be scared to spend the night in such a place. I chuckle to myself as I think about how boring people are. I may resent Jane for a lot of things, but I’ll always be grateful for her teaching me what it is to be myself.
My steps slow as I consider this. Without Jane, without killing, who even am I? Branson’s little doll? Despite myself, I feel a flush of warmth at even the thought of the term of endearment, but still, I’m scared it won’t be enough.
It’s only been a day, I remind myself as I turn the corner of the motel. My ass is pleasantly sore and we’re out of Jane’s grasp. We’ve got this. I let myself breathe out a smile.
The light above flickers ominously but I pay it no mind, stepping up to the sad looking vending machine as I hum to myself.
“Underdressed, aren’t you?” a male voice says behind me. I pause slightly in my motion of placing money in the machine, but don’t turn around immediately.
“Depends on what you think I’m doing,” I reply, pressing the button and leaning over to grab the can before turning. The man is probably not much older than me, but his skin and eyes speak of addiction and hardship that make him appear much older. In his hand, pointed at me, is a small pocket blade, and I actually let out a laugh. The man frowns but takes a step forward, pressing me back to the machine with the shitty blade at my chest.
“Don’t scream and I won’t hurt you,” he warns. A rush of excitement flows through me and I let the smile grow on my face, pressing forward into the blade. It’s dull but I can feel it press against my skin. The man looks down in horror. He takes a step back from me, clearly unnerved, and I throw my head back with a laugh.
“Don’t scream,” I tell him, taking a step forward. “I wouldn’t want to have to make this too fast.”
