Page 14 of Little Hearts


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When he stepped into the circle of light surrounding her, she finally got her first good look at his face, and in it she read the answers to her questions.

Rape was what was on his mind. He didn’t intend to kill her just yet. Emily almost wished he would. She wasn't sure she could survive this.

An involuntary whimper shuddered out of her, and he chuckled.

“Get down on all fours,” he instructed.

Emily shook her head, fighting the inevitable. He was going to do to her what he wanted. He was in charge here. Her eyes darted to the ladder, freedom was so close and yet so far away. Her chances of beating him there and getting up it before he stopped her were non-existent, he stood in-between her and it. Now that he was so close, and she was reminded of how big he was, she knew her chances of incapacitating him were almost as non-existent.

“On all fours,” he repeated, holding up his knife. “You know I’ll make it hurt as much as I can.”

With tears falling down her cheeks, she complied. What choice did she really have? He set the knife down far enough away that she couldn’t reach it while he raped her.

The sound of him undoing his zip pierced her brain and seemed to undo the hold she had on her emotions, sending them tumbling out.

He didn’t seem to notice her weeping as he forced himself inside her.

She cried out in pain, terror, and horror.

Then Emily pictured herself building a brick wall in her mind, putting it together brick by brick. A barrier between her and this nightmare she found herself in. A fence to hide behind that might help her to survive this psychologically if she managed to survive it physically.

August 20th

10:24 A.M.

As he slid the key into the lock and eased the door open, Nick felt a strong sense of guilt wash over him.

Why was this bothering him so much?

It was all going perfectly to plan, and he wasn't doing anything that he hadn’t done plenty of times before. And yet this particular time it was making him feel slimy and dirty like he was doing something horrible.

And yet he didn’t stop.

Inside Aggie’s apartment, he put the keys he’d swiped from her apartment last night when he dropped her off after their date, back in the drawer. He’d snatched the spare set of keys she kept in a small table by her front door while she’d been distracted making him coffee. Nick hadn’t thought she’d notice them missing, but in the unlikely event that she did, he was sure he could come up with a semi-believable lie. Something along the line of being concerned about her and wanting to be available if she needed him. It didn’t really matter what he said, Aggie was so far gone with her crush on him that she would buy whatever lies he fed her.

Which made him a gigantic jerk.

He’d never felt this way before, and he knew the reason why this time was different.

Aggie.

She was so sweet, pretty, and kind. She was dedicated to a job that was all about helping innocent children who were being abused and neglected, and she lived by her emotions. That was the thing that got to him the most. Aggie based what she did on what she felt. She believed she could trust him because she believed he had saved her life, so she didn’t look any deeper into the issue. For her it was that simple.

For him, feelings and emotions were anything but simple.

Hence the reason he had spent his entire adult life shutting them out.

Still, now wasn't the time for deep introspection. He was here for a reason, and whether he felt good about it or not—and he didnot—he intended to search through Aggie’s apartment and learn as much about her as he could. Although he had been here twice already, both times Aggie had been here, and he hadn’t had a chance to snoop. So far, the knowledge he had obtained about Aggie before their engineered meeting had proved surprisingly useful. He’d known she loved picnics, swings, flowers, and surprises. Their date had also enlightened him further. She didn’t want a protector, she had gotten annoyed with him when she thought he was trying to control what she did, and she liked a guy who lived a little on the wild side. She had actually surprised a genuine laugh out of him with the look on her face when he’d told her he was an accountant, and that was something not many people were able to achieve.

Nick had learned a lot about how she liked to be kissed too. A rush of heat flushed through him as he remembered Aggie’s soft, warm lips against his, her delicate fingers brushing the skin of his stomach and making him want a whole lot more than kissing.

Groaning out loud, he quickly shoved those thoughts away. He was never going to accomplish anything if he kept daydreaming about Aggie. He had to start thinking with his head, not with his emotions and definitelynotwith any other body part.

Aggie’s home was just like her, bright and brimming with emotion. Her apartment was quite small, he was in the living room, and there was also a kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom. The walls in here were painted a vivid pink, and the couches were upholstered in a brilliant yellow and full of so many colorful decorative cushions that it didn’t look like there was any space for a person to sit. The room was full of photographs. They were everywhere, hanging on the walls, dotted about on every available flat surface. In fact, she had a huge bookshelf that contained only a few books and was instead mostly full of photos.

Perusing the pictures, he noted there were lots of Aggie as an adorable little girl with her parents and an older brother. There were pictures of her as a teenager with friends, both boys and girls. There were pictures of her as an adult, again with a gaggle of male and female friends. Nick felt a tiny spike in his blood pressure at the sight of Aggie with her arms draped around her cute guy friends. He hoped they wereonlyfriends. And then he hoped he never hoped that again. It wasn't any of his business who Aggie dated, he had her attention for the moment and that was all he needed.

Leaving the photo-filled room, he headed for the kitchen. This room was less personal, more neat, tidy, and functional, however she had made the room her own by painting the walls a cool, soothing blue. The flowers he’d brought for her yesterday were in a vase on her round kitchen table. The counters were clear, all the appliances apparently kept in the cupboards, except for the row of eight cute, novelty cookie jars that he’d taken note of the day before. She was obviously a fan of baked goods, definitely something he could use to his advantage. Rifling quickly through the pantry and the fridge so he could gauge what her favorite foods were, he’d lucked out with his choices for last night’s date, particularly the fruit, of which he counted eight different varieties in her fridge, but he wanted to make sure he always made such a good impression.

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