Page 47 of Scorching Sienna

She heads to the toilet on the left, just out of sight of the camera. A minute later, the toilet flushes, and she reappears, approaching the basin with a small smile, deep in thought. She peers at herself in the mirror, a flush suffusing her cheeks before shaking her head. She is thinking about what just happened between us—a beautiful moment about to be tainted.

Her head dips, her eyes now not on the mirror but focused on her hands and the plug she is washing.

The perfect opening for the fucking coward to quietly leave his hiding spot. One second, two seconds, he is right behind her, one hand over her mouth while the other holds a Glock 9mm against her head.

She never told me or the police he had a gun.

She didn’t forget. No one forgets a gun held to their head.

Perhaps what I know is coming overshadowed everything else. Maybe something else.

She won’t mention it. She has a feeling attached to it that makes it difficult.

I have held a gun to someone's head more times than I have had one aimed at mine.

It is an intimate moment. As deeply personal as your first time having sex. Or giving birth. Or being in the room when someone you love dies. And because it is so closely connected to you, to your very fucking being, it could even be the most intimate moment of your entire life. The one just before you die. Or think you will die.

Your very essence, every breath, every moment, leads to one where all of it resides in another's hands. A person who is nothing to you has control in a way that is so fucking autocratic. You are helpless, everything hanging on their action, their thoughts. Especially when it is close range. Right by the temple. With no margin for error.

Sienna's eyes are wide with shock, and a piece of my soul splinters.

“If you make a sound, I will be forced to hurt you, baby. Do you understand?”

She nods vigorously, not hesitating as tears fall from her eyes, running the short distance to meet the skin of his hand covering her mouth. That spot will be the first spot I cut. And then again and again, for every tear that leaves my rainbow’s eyes.

“I’m going to remove my hand. If you scream, I will shoot you. Understand?”

Terror-filled eyes and another vigorous nod. Splinter.

The dead man removes his hand slowly and steps back.

“Take off your stocking.”

“Wh-what?”It comes out high-pitched and sounds like someone else. Because I have never heard this voice before. She has never been this afraid around me for it to be used.

“Your stocking. Now. And your panties.”

Sienna looks at the door briefly and then back at him, her hands trembling. Splinter.

“Now.”He raises the gun, his hand steady. We will see if the tremble is gone when he is on the other side.

Tears and more cuts stream down her face as she obeys, the sicko watching her with a smile on his face.

He is getting off on this. On being in control. The bulge in his pants grows with every second. He even has the fucking audacity to lick his lips when Sienna reveals one of her thighs as she removes her stocking. Splinter.

He grabs them from her, making her jump in fright.

“Mouth open wide.”

She hesitates. He coaches her with the gun under her chin, nudging her until she obeys. More tears. More cuts. Splinter.

“Mmmm, this is a reminder, Sienna. Of what happens when you let him touch you.”

He stuffs the panties in her mouth and then pulls some tape from his jacket pocket, tearing a piece off and placing it firmly over Sienna's mouth.

She is fucking terrified. Her breathing is ragged, and her whole body is now shaking while tears and more fucking cuts continue to roll down her face. Splinter.

He looks her up and down, pulling roughly on her dress so that it tears, revealing one of her lace-covered breasts. Splinter.

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