Page 19 of Stalking Christmas

How did I get back on the bed? Was he in here again with me while I was passed out? Oh my God, did he touch me again? I turn round and round in the small space, fear causing all my thoughts to mesh together, and my chest tightening painfully again with another impending panic attack. There has to be something I can use to protect myself; I have to do something, not remain here like a lamb awaiting the slaughter. “Think, Chrissy!” I admonish myself, my hands tightening into fists, ready to pummel him if he pops out of hiding.

The metal chain drags along the floor, the links clicking together obscenely, and grating on my frazzled nerves. I get tangled in the length, trip, and fall to the ground, the carpet burning against my knees. “FUCK! Let me out of here, you fucking psycho!” I rise and scream, as I charge at the door, and use my fists and feet to bang on it. Other than the sound of my wheezing and labored breath, no other sound greets me. The place beyond the door seems quiet and still, as if no one is out there, but that can’t be; someone put me back on that bed.

My anger ascends at the predicament I find myself in. The one I am to blame for, because I went to that glory hole and allowed him to touch me. I should have followed my first instinct, grabbed Toothless and Daisy, and ran. Now look at me, trapped like an animal in a cage, waiting for a masked villain to do whatever he wants with me. The rage continues to mount inside of me, and I dash to the dresser, pulling on the drawers, but some mechanism keeps them from completely being removed. I can’t control myself; I’m so furious that I yank the accent chair, and it topples on its side. Next goes the dresser; I pull it until it falls forward, the drawers all opening and hitting the carpet witha rancorous thud. I race to the blinds and wrench them down from the window, until muted light pours through, and causes menacing shadows from the bars across the walls. I grip the sheets from the bed and throw them to the ground, grabbing the corner of the mattress and upending it on its side, against the window that won’t allow my escape. My breathing is hoarse and coming too rapidly. I’m starting to feel lightheaded again, and I’m out of steam. I fall to the floor and crawl to a corner, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, to make myself as small as possible, as my body shakes with fear and cold. The chain reminds me of my status, a captive, an unwilling victim of whatever fucked up monster has taken me.

Tears fall down my face as hopelessness begins to set in. I thought what I had already survived in my life was horrible. All the foster homes I lived in, where I never felt safe and didn’t know if I would be beaten, abused, or raped, somehow seemed to be less frightening than my current situation. I think the difference was that I could have run away back then, even though living on the streets as a child would have been difficult and terrifying, but now I don’t have that option. This maniac has taken all of my avenues of escape away, and I am stuck awaiting a fate that I don’t know if I can survive.

A part of me already wishes for death, knowing it will be a mercy compared to what he could do to me. I know this man is not mentally well; who in their right mind kidnaps someone, after drugging and assaulting them in their home? Who the hell gifts a woman the severed hands of a man who touched her? I still don’t even remember whose hands they could be. No, death would be preferable to whatever he’s going to do to me.

“Just kill me now, asshole! I will murder you if I get the chance!” I yell into the silence, but not a single sound is heard in response.Fuck, I am going to die.

Chapter 23

Santa

Iwatch her through the cameras as she exhausts herself once again, throws a tantrum like a brat, and destroys the room I placed her in. My eyes roll at her antics; my sweet little temptation is so dramatic, but also filled with a vicious temper, one I long to explore. The words she yells into the silent space amuse me. She wants me to kill her? Does she think that I will give her the opportunity to murder me?Foolish girl.

No, she’ll remain where she is, and I will do whatever I want with her, regardless of her wishes, for as long as I see fit, and she entertains me. My phone buzzes on the table next to mykeyboard, and a grimace crosses my face when I get a look at the screen. What does this asshole want right now? I’m fucking busy, but he thinks I’m always at his beck and call. I’ve never seriously considered patricide before, but more and more, it’s becoming a necessary option. “What?” I question, as I answer and put him on speakerphone.

“Is that any way to answer the phone to your father, you ungrateful asshole? I’ve been trying to reach you!” His furious voice blares back at me, and instantly causes my heckles to rise.

“What exactly do I have to be grateful to you for,hmm?It seems I’m the one always getting you out of shifty situations,Governor, not the other way around.“ My eyes watch as Chrissy’s head meets her knees, tears still sliding down her beautiful face, as shudders wrack her petite body. She’s going to get dehydrated if she keeps crying like that. She hasn’t eaten at all since the diner, and I know she vomited the contents of her stomach earlier. I can’t let her get sick. That would ruin all my fun.

I get up from my desk, grab the phone, and wander off to check on my provisions. I know I had a saline bag, and a vitamin pack or two here in my reserves. If she refuses to eat or drink anything, then I’ll sedate her pretty ass, tie her down and force her to take nourishment through an intravenous; one way or another, she’ll stay alive. She doesn’t get to fucking leave me until I’m ready for her to. The fact that I’ve never cared whether any of my other victims stayed hydrated doesn’t escape me, but I’m choosing to ignore it, like all the other red flags that are waving brightly at me. “Are you even listening to me, Nicholas?” My father’s voice interrupts my thoughts, and I realize that I haven’t heard a word he’s been blubbering. “Nope, what were you droning on about?”

“Jesus, boy!Get your head out of your ass and in the game, this is fucking serious!“ He yells, and the instant need to hangup on him causes my thumb to hover over the red circle on my screen. “You left a witness behind to your brother’s incident. One that could put his ass in jail, and tie him to the hooker if she’s ever found!”That bitch will never be found, at least not in one recognizable piece.

“I didn’t leave shit behind, you neglected to provide me with that information. Am I supposed to guess that someone, besides the hooker sucking his cock, saw your idiot son committing a felony? I can’t do my job if I don’t have all the facts,Dad!”

“It doesn’t matter who’s to blame, Nicholas. The fact remains that this other idiot has already gone to his local police station, and made a report claiming that he witnessed a hit-and-run.” He releases an annoyed, self-righteous sigh through the phone, and I can hear him pacing back and forth in those stupid pretentious loafers he insists on wearing, that squeak when he walks. “They haven’t put all the pieces togetheryet, and we are lucky that I have friends in each of the departments, to provide me with the necessary information to keep us safe.”

Us safe?Like the fucker is really worried about anyone but himself and his image. He has moles and lackeys, not friends; my father doesn’t trust anyone enough to consider them a friend. Shit, I’m not even sure he trusts me and my brother, and we are his offspring. No, everything with Governor Brantford is a balancing game of what he can use you best for, and my job is always to clean up the manure he and my brother find themselves neck deep in, so that their hands can remain clean. “Just give me the name, and I’ll take care of it, and Dad, I’m going to be unavailable after this shit for a while. You’ll either have to make sure you and Micah don’t fuck anything up over the holidays, maybe longer, or deal with it yourself.”

Silence greets my statement, and I can almost see his beet-red face, stiff jaw, and clenched fists on the other end of the line. My father doesn’t like to be dictated to, and he doesn’t enjoyboundaries. Well, he doesn’t enjoy it when anyone sets them against him. The bastard is a narcissistic sociopath, and I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “What or whom has you occupied, Nicholas? The holidays are a time for family; we should be together,” he grits.

I can’t contain the gruff laugh that escapes me, is this fucker for real? “Family? Together?Is this some kind of joke,Dad?Last year you spent Christmas day with your face in anineteen-year-old escort’s pussy, while your dick was deep inside a male hooker’s ass, and you were high as a kite on coke. Neither Micah nor I saw you, until you needed a photo to post for your supporters, in front of your fake tree.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that, Nicholas? Just take care of Ricky Sanders and make him disappear, and Nicholas, whatever you’re up to, make sure it doesn’t link back to our family, or I’ll have someone makeyoudisappear.“ The bastard hangs up the phone, and I’m left fuming. How fucking dare he threaten me? The only reason I’m going to help clean up this mess, is because I would rather not see my baby brother behind bars, even if he is an entitled, spoiled shit. Plus, there is no doubt in my mind that weak fucker would snitch on me to get a lighter sentence. I glare at my screen; I think the new year is going to bring an unfortunate accident to Governor Brantford, and leave his seat wide open for someone else to take.

After confirming that I do, in fact, have a few vitamin packs, I sit behind my computer and start pulling up everything I can find about Ricky Sanders, who decided to be a good citizen and report a crime like a damn psycho. My glance keeps returning to the screen where Chrissy has fallen into an exhausted sleep on the floor, her arms still tightly woven around herself, as if she’s warding off a monster. I guess right now, I’m the monster in her tale, rather than a white knight, not that I ever wanted to be her, or anyone’s, savior. Fuck that, where’s the fun in that?

The sight of her pale flesh calls to me, making my mouth salivate for a taste of her, and my cock hardens with the need to be deep inside of her tight pussy once again. I glance at the time on the phone, and I see that nightfall will be here soon. That’ll provide the best opportunity to deal with Ricky Sanders, without having other witnesses involved. I don’t really have the time to play with my sweet temptation, but I can’t force myself to resist her lure. She’s here under my roof, my captive, my perfect gift, and she’s finally mine. I would be remiss if I didn’t entertain her for a bit, and make her feel welcome.

I get up, don my skull mask, and pull down my sleeves, ensuring I cover all my visible flesh and tattoos, so as not to give my identity away too soon. I want Chrissy to wonder who has taken her, and build up that sense of fear and determination to fight me. I need her strong, fierce, and filled with spite, just like that first night I laid eyes on her, and she dared to have me thrown out of the strip club. That’s the woman who caught my interest and has kept it. She caused her own demise that very first evening, and I’ve looked forward to having my collar around her neck ever since.

I reach for my tranq gun and ready a dart with a mild sedative; I know it’s not really fair to keep sedating her, but for what I have in mind, I want her pliable but semi-alert. I grab my blade and slip it into my back pocket, as lust sets a fire blazing in my veins. I wonder how many cuts her body can endure before she goes into shock, or loses too much blood. I have to be cautious and control my urges to see her bleed. If I lose control of myself, it would be so easy to damage her, or end her life prematurely. I have no intention of giving up my holiday gift; she has to make it to the new year at least, then I can reconsider what to do with her, and if keeping her alive is worth the trouble.

I move through my darkened and silent cabin, a place filled with solitude, peace, and comfort. It’s far from the bustle ofthe city and, more importantly, away from my father and his politics. I purchased this cabin years ago with the inheritance my mother left me and Micah, when she passed away, much to my father’s ire. He preferred that I remain close by, or in our family home, so that he could keep his eye on me, and his nose firmly in my business. The cabin is deep in a wooded area, over an hour outside of Boston’s city limits, and entirely off the grid. There are no records of my home in any city ledgers; I made sure to wipe any possible traces of it, including making the man who helped me build it disappear. As far as the world knows, Ajor Tsuoc is living a very comfortable retired life in Mexico somewhere, but the truth, however, is that his body is decomposing in a metal chemical barrel filled with acid, in a warehouse in Detroit. More importantly, my malignant father doesn’t know its location, so he can’t just show up here and attempt to demand my obedience.

I reach the locked door to the room where my temptation is residing. I pull up the hidden cameras on my phone, so I can ensure she is still where I last saw her. A pang of some foreign emotion causes my chest to tighten, when I glimpse her still tightly pressed into the corner, her body stiff and on guard, even in slumber. I shake off the feeling that has no place in my world. Mercy and pity are for the weak-minded, and that’s never been me. I don’t care that she’s scared, just that she is now mine.

I unlock the door with the electronic keypad and slide the door open. I have to push my weight against it, since my little temptation has made a fucking mess of her room, and the accent chair becomes an obstacle to my entry. Her body twitches with the soft sounds I make to get within the space, and closer to her. I point the tranquilizer gun at her shoulder and pull the trigger, and her body jerks backward, as the sharp end makes contact with her flesh. Her arms release their tight hold on her legs, and her head jolts upwards until her frightened chestnut brown eyes open, rise, and meet mine.

Chapter 24

Santa

“NOOOO,” she screams, and attempts to get to her feet, but the effects of the sedative are already making their way into her bloodstream, causing her to be woozy as she stumbles back into the wall, and crashes against its surface. Her legs give out on her, forcing her to sit at an odd angle, and her head dips forward, causing her chin to rest against her chest. My poor temptation, doesn’t she realize that she’s a mosquito fighting a war against a lion?

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