Page 53 of Drowning Her

I don’t know when I fell asleep. But when I woke up, the television was off and the lights were dark in the house. A long piece of leather bound my arms and wrists behind my back, going all the way up to my shoulders, thrusting my chest out. Needles pricked my insides. Who the hell had me now? I jerked myself to the side to see who it was, but I saw nothing.

Wilder’s grunt came from behind me. I relaxed my posture. It was Wilder. But as he tightened the restraints, causing my shoulders to strain, I whimpered. Did he want to make it hurt? Was he finally going to do what his father and brother wanted?

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He positioned me into a sitting position on the couch, then brandished his knife. He put the blade at the edge of my clothes, pulling at the fabric until it sliced off. I blinked, trying to figure out what was going on. He studied me,covering every inch of my skin like he wanted a photographic memory. His cock throbbed, pushing against his jeans.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us said a word.

“I killed my mother,” he said.

It wasn’t that simple. “Wilder, you didn’t?—”

“My father used to take me to the top of the barn. He’d set these cans all over the farm, teaching me to use a sniper rifle. One day, my mother was outside, hanging up clothes to dry. Had me aim the sights at her.”

Why was he telling me this?

“But you didn’t do it,” I said.

“Not that day. But she was my first kill,” he said. I shuddered, my toes curling up. “Forrest had her restrained. A hood over her head. Like you were yesterday.” His eyes darkened. “That pond, past the second pasture? Forrest said she stole money, but you know what I think?” He balled his fists. “She knew what she was doing. She must have been tired of watching her back.”

I swallowed a dry lump, forcing myself to meet his stare.

“I watched it all,” Wilder said. “She gave it every ounce of strength she had, but it wasn’t enough. Those seconds have replayed in my head. Over and over. An obsession I can’t get rid of, no matter how many people I drown.”

My stomach twisted into knots. Wilder spent time at that pond. Sitting at the bottom, underwater, waiting until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“The fucked up thing is I don’t see her face anymore. I see yours,” he said, his voice calm. “Every time I think of that night, it’s not my father drowning my mother. It’s me drowning you.”

I sucked in a breath, my heart pounding, but I leveled myself as I stared at him.

“You are not your past,” I said.

He ignored me. “When you drown a person, they lose consciousnessminutesbefore they die. But there’s still time, Maisie. I had seen my father do it enough to know that. But he gave me that gun. And I had a choice. I could have saved her.”

Tears filled my eyes. How could anyone put a child through that?

“But how were you supposed to go against your father?” I whispered.

“Don’t defend me,” he growled, gritting his teeth. “I aimed the gun. I pulled the fucking trigger. I killed my own mother, Maisie. The only person in this world who loved me.” My heart broke in two. He actually thought he was unlovable, that he was unworthy.

But as a kid, he didn’t have a choice.

“I’ve been obsessed with drowning ever since,” he said. “How there’s still a choice. There’s always time left. An escape if you want to find it. But I don’t want to find it. Ilikemaking them struggle. Knowing that the power is in my hands. That I hold that decision close to me like a bullet in a gun.”

My heart hammered in my chest, my eyes tracing him, trying to figure out where Wilder was hiding inside of that shell. There was still time left for him too; he just needed to see it.

“Before you,thatstruggle was the only way to arouse me.”

My breath caught in my throat:Before you.

Something had changed, then. We had a chance. I didn’t know how, butsomethingwas possible. He just didn’tknow how to accept himself yet. It was hard. I still hadn’t truly forgiven myself for what had happened to my little sister.

But I saw Wilder. I knew him. And there was so much more inside of him than he thought.

He picked me up by the waist and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me to my old bedroom. At the top of the bedposts, a bucket was hanging from metal bars, a remote control lying on the comforter. A hood slammed over my head. Fear instantly spiked through me. I thrust myself to the side, trying to escape, but Wilder lifted my hips, moving me on top of him, his dick sliding inside of me, pulling me apart. I moaned, fear catching in my throat. The remote beeped. Water trickled on top of the hood, sliding down, making the canvas suck against my face. I gasped.

“There’s nothing good inside of me,” he said. He pumped into my pussy. His nails scraped down my hips and I cried, the tears running down my cheeks. The remote beeped again and the water splashed on me, making it hard to breathe. “I chose you because I knew I wouldn’t care when you died. Because I knew that was part of your future.”

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