Page 44 of Monsters

“Lucas!” I screamed. I shrieked so loud, I thought my throat would tear. “Lucas, help!”

“Scream as loud as you want, Gemma. You’re too far from home for anyone to hear.” His smirk spread from ear to ear. He was enjoying every moment of this.

Tears slid from my eyes and ran down my temples. Using his thumb, Mason gently wiped them away.

“What will you do if Lucas sees you like this?” I seethed. “To see his brother attacking his best friend?”

“You chose the wrong brother, Gemma.” Mason’s eyes stormed. This wasn’t an opportunist seizing the moment. This had been a premeditated endeavor. All those times Mason had studied me so lewdly, made revolting remarks about my body and threatened me—they were all warnings leading up to the main event.

Using his knee, he pushed my legs apart and settled in between. Mason’s free hand traveled from my knee to my inner thigh, his fingers pulling my underwear to the side. I was crying, no longer concerned he’d see me as weak. The scent of damp dirt and decaying leaves beneath me mixed with Mason’s cologne. Earthiness versus sweet and spicy.

“Don’t do this, Mason,” I pleaded. “Please don’t.”

He studied me for a moment, caught in contemplation. “Are you saving it for Lucas?”

It being my virginity.

I turned away feeling my cheeks blaze. “Lucas wouldn’t even know what to do with a girl like you, Gem,” Mason spoke as if in a trance. “He wouldn’t know how to touch you, or how to kiss you.”

“Mason, you know this is wrong. So, please… please don’t hurt me.”

His fingers grazed under my panties, threatening penetration.

“Relax,” he cooed. “I’ll take what’s mine when the time’s right. I just wanted to give you a taste of things to come.” Using his thumb and forefinger, Mason gripped my jaw, turning my face until our eyes met. He saw the fear and in some sick perversion, it only encouraged him.

“But… Lucas can’t have everything.” Mason claimed my mouth, kissing me hard and fighting against my struggles. His fingers dug deep, holding me in place, my muffled pleas evaporating as the monster from next door became my first ever kiss. He was forceful and possessive, driving my skull into the ground as he took some more of what wasn’t his to take. When he finally managed to part my lips, and his tongue searched for mine, I seized the moment.

I bit hard, my teeth sinking deep until I could taste blood. He groaned and jolted from the pain until I finally released him. Mason sat up, one hand to his bloodied mouth, the hand already raised. His open palm connected with my cheek, the sharp slap echoing through the woods.

“Fucking bitch!” he fumed, struggling to form the words. My eyes were squeezed shut while I coped with the sting, and I started wishing to be anywhere else but trapped in the woods.

“Open,” he demanded, his tone chilling.

I obliged, fearing reprisal. Through damp lashes, I met his eyes. He smirked, his gaze dropping to something in his hand. My lip stopped quivering and instead, my fear took hold.

In a terrifying moment, I was met with Mason’s sadistic smiling face and his switchblade. Its blade glinted in the small stream of light which penetrated the forest canopy.

“You may not love me like you do him, Gem,” Mason started, dragging the blade down my cheek, catching the tears. “But I want to give you something that reminds you of me. Do you wanna know what that is?”

I was frozen in place, too scared to move in case the knife slipped. “No.”

He sneered.

“I want to show you. Make sure you keep your eyes open for this one. You don’t want to miss a single stroke.”

Pulling my arms back down to my side, Mason crawled high into a straddle, his knees pinning me down. My upper arms bore the full weight of him, knees squishing muscle and flesh. I screamed, but he didn’t ease the pain.

“It’s for your own good, Gem.” His eyes glistened with a sickening promise. “You’ll see.” Mason pulled the straps of my bra and dress over my shoulder, his forearm resting across my neck. I was pinned from the waist up, and now he seemed intent on choking me. I could only see his face, his expression unreadable, stormy eyes focused on his next task. The tip of the blade carved into my flesh.

The tender skin under my collarbone was on fire, each drag of the knife igniting more agonizing pain.

If I moved, he increased the pressure on my neck.

He tore at my skin like he owned it.

He carved into me, relishing the sight of blood he set free by his own doing.

I begged.

I pleaded.

Every word fell on deaf ears until finally, he sat straight, removing his arm from my neck. I coughed, gasped and sobbed simultaneously wanting nothing more than to curl in a ball and cry.

“Pretty neat for my standards,” Mason said, pleased with his efforts. I had no idea what he had branded on me. I was too scared to know. The smile dropped from his face, and his eyes narrowed.

“A little something from me to you. Something to remember me by.”

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