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Leo takes the knife.
His hand shakes like he’s detoxing from heroin, meth, and Crash all at once. He whispers, “Sorry, Al,” but he doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he slips his fingers beneath the waist band of my plain cotton underwear, gathering it at the side, like this isn’t totally, irrevocably depraved.
My brother cuts off my panties, first the right side, then the left. He slides them out from under me and hands them to Jonas, his entire arm juddering like he’s at the epicenter of an earthquake.
Jonas crams the cloth against Leo’s nose. “Take a deep breath, dickhead. That’s your sister’s cunt you’re smelling. Piss and cream, because she’s sick enough to want you fucking her with your shriveled cock.”
I’m dry as a bone between my legs, but Leo looks like he’s going to puke. Ansel’s laughing like a wild dog.
Jonas crosses to the sideboard. He yanks the top drawer hard enough to send silverware flying. I flinch in reflex, but he takes his time searching the debris on the floor.
He comes up with a steak knife in his hand.
“Is this the one?” he asks. “Is this the knife you used to kill my brother?”
I shake my head hard enough to make my spine crackle. He moves the blade closer to my face, pressing the flat against my cheek. I freeze, and the point settles less than an inch from my eye. “I could scoop this out now, bitch. You only need one to watch everything we have planned.”
He lowers the knife to the gag, to the tender edges of my mouth that are already torn and raw. “Or we could give you a smile no one will ever forget.”
He traces down my throat, edging the knife against my right breast. “My brother gave you these tits. We can take them back. One cut here. Another one there. And you can drink the fucking implants after you stop screaming.”
He’ll do it. I know he will. My body is trembling so hard the zip-ties are slicing into my flesh. Bright red blood rushes into the creases of my bonds.
But Jonas isn’t through. He trails the knife down my ribs. He slides the flat over my mound. He rests the tip at the V where my clit hides. “Cut this out,” he says, “and you’ll never come again.” He tilts his wrist. Points lower. “Or I can fuck you with the knife, bitch. Fuck you hard. Fuck your slit. Fuck your ass. Fuck you till there’s nothing left but meat, like you left my brother. I can fuck you to death.”
Drool dribbles past my lips. I try to form words, try to make him understand. He can do whatever he wants with his cock. Put it up my ass. Shove it in my pussy. Double up with Ansel, add Leo if that’s what he needs, whatever will make us even, whatever will make us right. Just please, please, please put the knife away. Please don’t fuck me with the knife.
But I can’t say the words. I can’t get them past the gag.
Ansel pushes his way forward. He’s been busy while Jonas has been torturing me. His clothes are gone; he’s naked as an egg from head to toe. He’s raided the silverware on the floor too, and his left fist is clutched around a second steak knife. His right hand strokes his enormous erection.
“Let me play, too!” he says, sounding exactly like a child begging to be included in a game of Monopoly.
Monopoly.
Leo and I played Monopoly. I was always the dog, and he was always the racecar, and we paid out double if we landed on Go.
I stretch my neck, looking for my brother. I’ll beg him. I’ll plead. If he won’t save me, can’t save me, at least he can pick up his own steak knife. He can make his own cut, a clean one, running from my right ear to my left. He can find my carotid. It isn’t hard. I found Herzog’s, with one desperate blow.
Leo can still save me.
But he’s crouching in the corner. He’s twisting a scrap of fabric between his fingers. I don’t think he even remembers those are my panties. He’s covering his head with both forearms, and he’s sobbing into his knees, and I know he’ll never set me free.
“Let me play!” Ansel whines again. He jostles Jonas for position. He levels his knife in front of my splayed legs.
I close my eyes and pray to die.
38
TRAP
* * *
They’re gone.
My wrists and ankles are bound tight enough that my fingers and toes are numb, but the cocksucking jizzstain shitfuckers left without blowing my brains out. I take a deep breath in relief and nearly start coughing at the pain in my side. It feels like they ran over me with an eighteen-wheeler.
I wince, and the skin by my eyes pulls tight. There’s something wrong there too, something swollen. A slow, steady ache pounds in time with my pulse. At least that means my heart is still beating.
