Page 2 of SKIN

He knew me, my name, but how? Or did he…? Maybe he’d just found my driver’s license… Or overheard my name somewhere… Honestly, his knowing who I was did little to tell me who he was… and I needed to know that, to also know what he wanted.

“Who are you?” It was the next obvious question, not that I thought it would be that easy.

“I already told you, pet. I’m the man you stole from.” I could hear the grin curling his lips. But it wasn’t something pleasant. No, it was the sort of grin that preceded a sudden bout of rage. A violent grin.

“How am I supposed to know what I took from you, if I don’t even know who you are?” I tried again.

“Not my problem,” he hissed in response.

“It is your problem if you want it back…”

Keep him engaged, Em. Interested in continuing to play whatever game this is.

My subconscious urged me to maintain the façade. Be whatever, whoever it was he needed me to be. Part of me knew my inner voice was right, while another part was wondering how long it would take to chew through the meat of my wrist in order to free myself. The same part that realized I would bleed out long before I was able to make it to the door.

He was growing impatient—who was I kidding? The psycho was impatient from the moment I first laid eyes on him, likely long before that too. It was evident in the tense posturing of his shoulders. In the way the biceps of his crossed arms flexed and loosened as though he were moments away from closing the distance between us and landing the full force of his knuckles into my face.

He hated me but why?

There was nothing about his voice that was recognizable, nothing about his build that was the slightest bit familiar. The man was a stranger to me. I was sure of it, as sure as he was that I’d taken something from him…

He pushed off the wall and stalked towards me again. I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for the blow that never came. Until I chanced a glance through my lashes and watched as he stomped to the only entry point instead. A metal door. Fireproof, I was certain. And not something I could break down.

“Wait!” I couldn’t be left alone in here. Alone with my thoughts and rising panic… I just couldn’t… “Let me help you?—”

His laughter broke through my plea. The sound was humorless and bitter. “Help me? How the fuck do you expect to help me, pet? Do you even realize how fucked you are right now?” It took seconds for him to appear at my side again, less than that for him to bring us nose to nose.

“That’s not what I meant?—”

“Then tell me what the fuck you meant, my sweet girl…” His tone was suddenly gentle, like something you’d use to soothe a small child, and I didn’t know what to make of all the mood swings.

“If you won’t tell me who you are, or what it is you think I stole…”

He raised a questioning eyebrow but I continued all the same.

“…then at least give me an opportunity to figure it out… please?”

He threw his head back in genuine laughter this time. “Please?” He wheezed in a breath, obviously amused. With himself or me? I couldn’t tell. “Yes, because proper manners will get you out of this one.” He dropped his jaw and glared at me with his neck cocked to one side, as if observing me for a moment. “Go on. What’s your proposal? I’m just dying to hear it, pet.”

2

HIM

Emily Shaw was…

Well, for as long as I decided to keep her alive, she was mine. The object of my obsession for the past ten years. All the planning, the hours dedicated to this moment, and I was holding on by a thread. Less than that. I was dangling over the precipice of hysteria and insanity. My rage threatening to tip me over one way, then the other.

Neither would do.

I couldn’t let her ruin this for me. This was more than a means to an end. This was about taking back everything the little bitch had stolen from me. This was about degradation, control, ruining her. And it was about savoring every second of her beautiful destruction.

Because that’s what it would be. I’d paint these walls in her blood. Mark her body with my cum and shatter her will to live along the way. She would beg me to end it, end her, and I’d refuse… until her pleas no longer brought me joy. Until the taste of her tears no longer stirred my cock to life. Until her cunt was nothing more than a gaping hole, her tight muscles loosened beyond repair.

Then my pretty little pet would be free game for all the monsters far worse than I was…

She was staring at me now, waiting to see what I thought about her offer. As if she had any bargaining chips left in this little game of ours. She didn’t. There was only one way for this to end. But she still had hope, and I liked dangling it in front of her, just long enough to watch the devastation in her eyes when I ripped it away again.

“You want something from me? Fine.” I grinned, chewing on the fabric of the breathable mouth covering. I could still taste her blood there. “But I want something from you first.”

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