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But when I manage to connect the top of my shoe with his shin, he stops chuckling.
Oh shit.
His eyes widen, mirroring my own. When I pull my foot back and do it again, harder, I don’t know which of us is more shocked.
But I know who is madder.
He doesn’t need words to tell me; his eyes tell me just how furious he is.
A whimper slips out of me, but his eyes don’t soften like I imagine the other ones would have.
Instead, he lifts me off the ground and carries me out of the house. Amy and Jason’s music easily drown out my cries of outrage and fear. By the lack of response from the man carrying me, I’m not sure he even hears me.
He doesn’t stop until we’re outside the downstairs bedroom at the back of the house. The one I will be sleeping in or was sleeping in, I guess.
I can’t let myself think like that. That is a road to go down later because the only place it leads to is my breakdown.
My feet touch the ground slowly, my captor careful, his hands gentle as he lowers me.
Soft and steady hands hold my shoulders when I sway slightly. Once he’s sure I’m not going to faint on him, he tucks a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at his face.
The white mask stands out so much among the blackness of his clothes and the darkness surrounding us that it startles me, almost like I had forgotten he was wearing it.
That same finger moves to just in front of my face as he says, “No!” The red-painted lips on the mask may be smiling, but it’s clear by his tone that he’s not. Not even an altered voice can hide his annoyance.
I don’t know what to do. I can barely breathe right now, never mind give him a verbal response. If I could make a sound, I would be screaming.
But he’s clearly not happy with my lack of reaction.
The hand on my shoulder turns my whole body to the side, and I watch as his arm rears back and then shoots forward, landing a solid spank to my ass.
The already sore skin blazes under my jeans.
His strike is lighter than the other man’s, not that I’m about to tell him that.
“No kicking. You behave for me as you would for him,” he tells me, pointing back toward the kitchen where we just left.
I nod, my head moving without my permission. Not one part of me wants to make the other one mad or disappoint him. Those same parts of me don’t want to think or know what that says about me, either.
With our new understanding that I will not misbehave in place, he turns us to face the house.
Although the curtains are open and the room dark, it’s easy to make out a figure walking back and forth inside the room.
Dale.
He doesn’t see us; he’s not even paying attention. His arms flail around like he’s arguing with himself.
Dale is so caught up in whatever he’s doing that he doesn’t see the door open or the large masked man who slips inside the room.
No!
Dale may be an absolute asshole who needs more than a talk with the local sheriff, but he doesn’t deserve to die.
Would he have killed you? What would he do with you once he was done, little one?a voice whispers in the back of my mind. It’s taunting and cruel, but that’s not what scares me. What scares me is the voice that sounds like me, but it can’t be because she’s agreeing with him.
Maybe Dale does deserve what’s about to happen.
But Laura and Billy didn’t.
