Fear can go fuck itself.
Now that Lester’s opened the doors for me, I have to toss out the fabric and get him to leave me the hell alone.
“I’m your everything.” An undercurrent of anger slithers into his voice. “I’ll be your everything until I get to my hiding place. Then I’ll kill you.”
Begging him to leave will only encourage him to come at me. I’ve done it too many times over that awful night to know he gets off on my fear.
Antagonizing him…That might turn him off.
“You are nothing to me.” I sit up on my knees, resisting the shivers that are right there, below the surface. “Less than nothing. Missed you? Fuck no. I’ve missed the takeout that gave me food poisoning last year more than I’ll ever miss you.”
“One way to find out.” He drops the thing in his hold. It clanks as it lands on the van’s floor.
Pliers.
He’s brought pliers here.
I don’t panic. Will not.
He won’t shove them inside me. I’ll kill him before he gets near any of my holes ever again.
I hug my stomach, shielding myself from him. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“What’s the matter?” His hands are on his hips. “Afraid I’ll find out how wet you are for Daddy Lester?”
The old green pants he’s wearing are crumpled. So is his dress shirt. The sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows in a messy sort of way, scrunching the material even more.
Weird how I’ve missed that detail.
I’d forgotten they were ugly and cheap, the clothes he wore the last time I saw him.
Truth is, I don’t remember much of the trial at all.
The traumatizing experience was too much for me. I remember showing up, giving my testimony, throwing up in the bathroom. That’s basically it.
“You’re delusional.”
He kicks the pliers to the corner. I have to make him leave before he uses them on me. Every second he’s here means another second he could hurt me. He won’t indulge me in this banter forever.
“And you’re a fucking liar.”
“Leave me alone.” I drop to my ass, kicking him in the shins. “What are you even doing? Waiting for Landon to come fuck you up?”
His laughter is the most repulsive sound I’ve ever heard. High-pitched and choked. He’s snorting on top of everything else. Like a hyena, only worse.
The air in the back of the van shifts. Lester lowers to his knees slowly while he grunts and curses. Like he said, his surgery hasn’t healed completely. Despite the fear that clutches at my chest—despite the growing concern of watching him go for the pliers, then to me—I take note of that pain.
When the time is right, I’ll use it to my advantage.
“First things first.”
While his crotch might be hurting, the rest of his body is, sadly, fine. He grabs my ankles, pulling me to him.
“Let me go!” I kick and scream.
The fucker is determined. He reaches into his pants pocket and comes up with a zip tie.
“Had to move fast after they released me,” he grunts as he easily wraps them around my ankles. No matter what I do, nomatter how hard I punch the top of his head, he won’t stop. “The van I rented had one of these and the pliers. You might try to run with your hands tied. This is a guarantee you won’t.”