Page 51 of Tormenting Me

We make it home in the early hours of the evening. California’s allure is the ability to drive a few hours in any direction and discover breathtaking places. I wanted to spend the night in the redwoods, but Wes is on the hunt. A new pedophile has caught his attention, and he wants to get back so he can track him. We pull up next to the building and unload the car. Wes stopped for burgers and my stomach grumbles, smelling the greasy deliciousness as we head upstairs.

Placing the bag on the table, I head to the kitchen. Wes drops our bags and jackets on the couch and makes his way over as I grab drinks from the fridge and he grabs his laptop from his desk, bringing it to the table. Carefully, I place his tea in front of him and then place my glass of water on the table. I unpack the burgers and fries while he turns his computer on.

I text Atlas about our date while Wes fiddles on his laptop, muttering under his breath.

“Everything okay?” I ask him, watching his demeanor change as he scroll through pages of documents.

“This guy is a piece of shit and I cannot wait to hear him begging for his life. He fucking got his own daughters addicted to drugs, raped them and then trafficked them. What sort of man... what sort of father would do such a thing? It makes me fucking sick.” Wes is visibly distraught. This guy has gotten to him, and it sounds like he deserves every moment of the suffering Wes will inflict upon him.

“What’s his name?” I ask, dipping my fry in ketchup and bringing to my lips.

“Uh, Bannister, Corbin Bannister.”

Time vanished, leaving me in a stagnant world. My fry hits the table and I feel like I stop breathing.

I stare blankly at Wes, my mind racing with a flood of memories and emotions. Corbin Bannister. The mere mention of the name sets off a chain reaction in my body, igniting a storm of anger and fear. How could it be? How could Wes be hunting the man who has been the sole bringer of nightmares for years?

I try to steady myself, my hands trembling as I reach for my glass of water. Taking a sip, I struggle to find my voice. “Corbin Bannister... I know that name,” I say, my voice quivering.

Wes looks up from his laptop, concern etched across his face. “You do?” he asks, his voice filled with apprehension. “How?”

I nod slowly, my mind replaying the painful memories I had long buried. Corbin Bannister was the monster my parents were trying to sell me to. He would touch me and whisper in my ear that someday I would be his. I can still feel his rough hands palm my breast, his mouth on my neck. How he would force me to touch him. His words and touch shattered my childhood, leaving me scarred and broken.

His words play in my head. “Such a pretty little thing you are, aren’t you, Laney-Bear? Your mom and dad tell me you are going to be the best girl for me someday. Never let a boy touch you the way I do, Laney. You’re all mine.”

I want to vomit. The bile rises in my throat and I take another sip of water to keep it from coming up.

“Wes, I... He was the man my parents tried to sell me to,” I confess, my voice barely a whisper. My eyes fill with tears, on the verge of spilling.

Wes’s expression shifts from shock to rage. He shoves his computer back and reaches out, his hand gently resting on mine. “Fuck, baby. Did he hurt you?” he breathes, his voice filled with remorse.

To regain my composure, I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. “He never raped me, but he touched me and made me touch him. For years, when he would come to sell my parents their drugs, he would stay and abuse me. My parents let him. I never told anyone,” I continue, my voice shaking. “I thought I could escape the pain by burying it deep inside me. But hearing his name... it’s all coming back.”

Wes’s grip on my hand tightens. His eyes fill with compassion. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, his voice filled with empathy. “I swear to you, he will pay for what he did to you. Together.”

Together.

Within me, a whirlwind of emotions stirs — fear, anger, and a shimmering trace of hope. Together, Wes and I will kill him, not just for me, but for all the victims. Perhaps we can finally mend the wounds that have imprisoned my mind for years.

After making sure that I had eaten enough, showered, and was cozy in bed with my Kindle, Wes left to do what he does best. Hunt his prey. I’m not ready to help just yet. I need tonight to clear my head and rest from an already emotional day. The tears roll down my cheeks as I let it all out, letting the pain seep out. The loft and warehouse echoes with my cries and whimpers.

I just want to not feel for one night. For one night, I want to be numb. And as much as I want to go to the kitchen and take out one of Wes’s bottles of whisky, I won’t. I will lie here and cry. I will feel everything.

So I can use that pain to kill him.

His death will be mine.

Chapter thirty-one

Wes

Iseethe with anger as I sit in my car, staring at Bannister’s rundown apartment from across the street. My mind reels replaying Layne, telling me about what this piece of shit did to her as a child. What he did to my wife. My fucking wife. He is partially responsible for her trauma and mental health issues. I will make this piece of shit beg for death with the pain I will inflict on him.

The only person who will give him that release is Layne.

It’s apparent that Bannister is still heavy in the drug game, people coming and going every ten to fifteen minutes. Observing the constant stream of people entering and exiting the apartment, I can’t help but wonder if Bannister is still involved in the child trafficking trade. The mere thought of innocent lives being exploited under his control makes my stomach churn with disgust.

I notice a man inside the apartment that stays longer than the others, capturing my attention. Intrigued, I sit up in my car, fixating my gaze on the windows, searching for any sign of movement within the bedrooms. As lights in the apartment dim, two men and a little girl emerge. My heart rate quickens as I observe these grown men escorting a little girl, who appears to be no older than ten, towards a waiting car.

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