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I shake my head, frustrated by him deviating from my question. “That is not what I asked. I asked who the fuck you are and why you’re here,” I snap. The water tickles the skin on my face, but I refuse to remove my hand to relieve it. Is this some kind of joke?
My eyes focus on what he is wearing, trying to figure out if there is a clue to who he is and if he is here to kill me, but I don’t see a gun or a knife. Maybe they sent him to get rid of me, the Order simply waiting for an opportunity. He could use his hands and snap by neck.
My body shivers as he stands still, the creepy mask with the pitch-black eyes aimed right at me. I look to see if I can run out and scream for help, but he isn’t a small man. He has broad shoulders and fills the space. He’s wearing a black long-sleeve shirt with black slacks and black leather gloves. I can’t see an inch of skin, which makes trying to identify him futile and that is what scares me the most, besides the fact that I’m naked in the shower and he could do whatever he wanted to me.
“I was getting to that part, but you won’t let me finish. It is impolite to not allow someone to finish answering a question when asked.”
“Fuck you.”
He points his leather gloved finger toward me in a sweeping motion gesturing no. “Not tonight. In time. I would like to get to know you first. It makes the experience that much better.”
“Please leave me alone. Get out of here and I’ll act like this never happened.”
“I’m sorry but I can’t do that.”
“Then I’m going to scream and they will come running in here.”
“Try it and you will suffer the consequences.”
I move to the side and that is when I bolt. I try not to slip on the tile as I make my escape, but he is faster, and when he pushes me against the stall, I understand the mistake I just made. He is strong. Stronger than I thought he would be. His hand is over my mouth and the protruding beak of his mask is to the side of my neck. The hint of leather and smoke mixed with a cologne I have never smelled before fills my senses. It smells of spices and man. I close my eyes because I know he is not going to let go. I’m trapped. I’m fucked.
“Please,” I plead, sounding muffled. “Let me go. I won’t say anything. I know the rules.”
He chuckles and it causes me to stop pleading as he mocks my attempt. “I don’t believe in rules. I don’t follow them because I’m not a puppet.”
His voice is muffled behind the mask and my ears are trying to capture a hint of his voice, a sound to give me a clue. My legs are shaking, and it is not because I’m chilled. I’m scared. I’m terrified. The shaking has reached my hands and tears run down my cheeks.
“Don’t cry for me. I prefer to hear your screams. It does things to me. It calms me. The same way it calms you when you get fucked.” His fingers covered in smooth leather slide down the sides of my bare stomach, and I wonder how much he knows about me. Who is he and what does he want. “Let’s take care of the little problem you’re having, Jess. Scrubbing is obviously not working. It stings. It infects. It opens wounds.”
“H-how do you know my name?” He is sliding his fingers over my skin down to the apex of my thighs, and at this point, I’m as good as dead. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Keeping you from crying. I don’t like the weak but I have found that you are not weak. You are just outnumbered. To answer your question. My name is Zero. Zero, because I don’t exist. They see me, but I’m not really there. I hear and see things. I know things and when I want something, I get it.”
“What do you want?” The tip of his finger grazes my clit, and I tense. Please, God. “I want you, Jess. The real you. The fucked-up version you hide from everyone. Even the three cocks you get off on on-campus and the other one that shall not be named. Am I right, Jess? The one that has you scrubbing your pretty skin until it turns the shade of red, hoping he bleeds out of your skin like an infection. The one that has you skittish, crying pathetically when the real you wants to kill. To destroy.” He brushes the side of the smooth black mask over my cheek. “Have you ever liked someone, Jess? Truly wanted them dead and not to aid your sickness like a pill.”
“Get fucked.” I seethe under his hand.
He inhales and I shouldn’t be pissing him off, but he knows too much. He slides his finger inside me, hitting a spot that has my mouth parting on a gasp.
“The thing about being sick like you, Jess, is that it’s like a drug, and this––he rubs my clit with his thumb, causing my body to respond––“is what you need. Isn’t it? The release to remove what you want to forget. A drug to take you to that place. The place you secretly wish to be. A nirvana of sorts.”
I don’t know how or why, but he gets me. He must be a psychologist or someone older with the way he speaks to me. He is someone that knows what suffering and wanting to escape feels like. My body betrays me and I moan when he increases the pressure, taking me off the edge, it is all I can think about, and nothing else. I hear him growl, lifting my leg and spreading my pussy wide, and God forgive me, I let him. I let a stranger finger-fuck me in the women’s shower. I’m so messed up.
“Yes,” I manage to say after he breaks me, and I feel it. The drug I crave. The one he knows I would do anything for. Release.
CHAPTER11
Jess
Iwake up with a start, bolting up from the bed. Naked. The chill freezing my body into stone. I look down at the skin on my thighs, watching the bumps rise all over my skin like an electric current. The twin comforter is on the floor. My hair is a mass of curls from not drying it like I usually do. Last night must have been a dream. An episode of my past trauma or something. There is no way it was real. He couldn’t have been real. Swinging my legs over the bed to get up and get ready for class, I notice there is a piece of paper on my nightstand.
I place the comforter over my shoulders to ward off the chill and my stomach clenches when I see there is a note scrawled on a piece of paper I recognize from my notebook. My eyes dart over to where I left my bag and see that it was left open. Clearly, someone was in here last night.
Do you remember your heart pounding, screaming for its release? This is the moment where everything you thought was a dream, isn’t.
We are real.
We are right.
