Page 15 of They Call Him Reaper

“What did I do, Father?”

He pointed at me like I was guilty of a crime. “Stay the fuck away from my daughter, pervert.”

I coughed in pain and clutched my bruised ribs while ignoring the hypocrisy of his words. The girl from the night before was a teenager after all.

“She’s six. I hardly talk to her.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything ever.” He was back in my space and my body seized from the electric current of his taser. He'd switch between tasers or stun guns depending on how long he wanted me to hurt. He spat on the ground in my direction. “She will never see you again. I’ll kill you just for touching her. That’s a lifetime promise.” As his face shifted into a smile, he reached out his hand to help me up since his taser fucked with my ability to move. “You landed some hits. Very impressive. I knew you were my favorite for a reason. Come on, let’s get you bandaged up so you can continue your training."

After my thirteenth birthday, he made it a birthday ritual. He’d present me with a high girl and give me the option to kill her or fuck her. On my fifteenth birthday, the woman he brought me was high and obviously depressed. Her arms had slashes from when she tried to take her own life. That time, when he presented me with the option, her eyes held a different plea than the other two girls who he killed anyway. She wantedto be put out of her misery, and I wanted to be left alone. I grabbed the gun and put it to her forehead. A faint smile played on her lips. We both knew the same thing. It was her only way out. He would've hunted her, and I didn't have the power to protect her. After a silent prayer to her maker to take her to a better place, I pulled the trigger.

Her body dropped at my feet, but I kept my eyes on Father. “Enough of that. I pick my own pussy."

His eyes glittered with pride because I had turned into the person he wanted me to be.

I fall out of the memory when I begin shivering. Cutting off the water, I climb out and wrap my towel around my waist. My reflection catches my attention, and I stare at myself, trying to find any trace of the person I think I used to be.

Father always ran hot and cold. He’d treat his harsh punishments as challenges to test my resilience. Then congratulate me for being the only one to pass it. He was right; I never saw her again until she ran from him six months ago. I don’t know why, but I kept tabs on her. She's terrible at disappearing, but he didn’t go after her.

He should have locked her away when he had the chance because I have her now.

TEN

Inaya

There’ssomething different about his eyes. I can’t quite place it, nor can I get close enough to see it since he’s cuffed me back to the damn wall.

After his shower, he uncuffed me and pushed me into the bathroom like I’m dirty. I’d groomed and left feeling somewhat refreshed, although I wasn’t too jazzed about the four small burn marks the stun gun left behind. The feeling of the volts going through me was something I can’t describe after, but it felt like my body had shut down when he did it. Twice.

His past was a definite hot topic that pulled the quiet beast out of the stoic assassin. The knife didn’t leave much of a mark, just a scratch. While it sucked, I’d take being shocked over being left in the ocean; it’s a much faster recovery.

I just want to go home, wherever that may be. Accepting that it won’t happen was the hard part. I already knew I was in the presence of a killer, but the longer I’m here the more it sinks in. I preferred to check out like I have been. The unfortunate side effect of that was that my sexual fascination had somehow peaked.

I didn’t know if it’s just him or the fact that he was my last chance to have sex before I died. It was a dangerous fascination; one he didn’t seem to return, but he looked damn good for a crazy killer. No, he looked damn good for a regular man. His naked body on display was tempting as he slept. Dante appeared to be damn near human in his sleep. I was surprised to wake up next to him, loving the warmth he provided.

It gave me space to lie to myself. For a brief moment, I wondered how it’d be if we were regular people in a relationship, waking up after a night of making love. Anything to escape my reality. It was just a shame since he was not a person. I pushed away all thoughts as I left the restroom.

He was on the other side of the door, with his arms folded and his jaw still ticking with irritation. I thought he was completely void of emotions, but the fire that I hadn’t seen since meeting him is still present from yesterday.

He cuffed me again and reattached me to the wall. I had no idea that finding out his name would piss him off royally. Once I saw it, my head filled in the little that I knew. I thought he simply worked for my dad for as long as I can remember, but it’s apparent that he kills for him. I’d just like to know what went wrong. He was the only person my dad talked about a lot, yet I never met. If anything, I thought he’d just shrug and tell me what Father did since I’m dying anyway.

Instead, he’s simmering, and I’m not sure what I did exactly. Yeah, I snooped, but I feel like it’s deeper than that. I wanted to apologize, then I asked myself what the fuck was I thinking. He’s done a lot more to me thansnoop.We haven’t spoken for hours, which is normal, except the robot now looks like a caged animal; agitated and restless. Whatever it is can’t be good.

My nose starts to itch and my instinct to scratch it is thwarted by my cuffs. As my frustration rises, I think about thrashing against the restraints, but I’m surprised to find that I don’t haveto move. He bends in front of me and uses his forefinger to scratch my nose. I feel relief and fear riding in like a double-edged sword. Is this my last rite? On the surface, scratching my nose isn’t a big deal, but it’s a small miracle where he’s concerned. I know for a fact that he doesn’t give a fuck about my comfort. He’s the type to find a way to keep making it itch.

“Thank you,” I say, but he just grunts. That’s still more acknowledgement than usual. Now may be the best time to ask him questions. “Dante?”

His eyes snap to mine, reminding me of the tension it caused yesterday.

“You don’t seem to like your name, what should I call you? Reaper?”

“I never named myself that bullshit,” he nearly growls. The gruffness vastly contrasts with the flat, automatic way he spoke prior to me learning his name.

“Hugo, then?” I offer his alias as a middle ground. He sighs, and I can’t ignore that he smells wonderful.

“I’d prefer for you to shut up,Metiche. But if you must call me something, Dante is fine.”

“Okay, Dante,” I test out. “I know I’m probably the most comfortable a hostage waiting to die could be... I mean, you feed me, and you don’t rape me, but I could really use a drink right now. Honestly, so can you."

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