Page 74 of Deliverance

I nod as we make our way through the courtyard. I’m surprised her guard dogs aren’t on our asses now. Oh, wait. I think I just saw Griggs ahead of us. Makes sense.

“Uh huh and just so we are transparent, how many boyfriends are you up to?” I ask.

“Maggie,” she hisses as she glances around.

“No one is listening. No lying now, missy. I have two eyes. I know what it looks like when people are fucking around. Three? Four?”

I test that fourth. I know without a doubt it’s three. It’s official; my best friend has her very own harem. The fiancé’s uncle. The fiancé’s best friend. The fiancé’s enemy. All she is missing is the actual fiancé, though, honestly, that one will be a hard sell for her. We all know how I feel about Asher Putnam. He’s a grade A asshole. I will say, though. Something is changing in him. Ever since she got hurt, he has been…different. Different than I’ve ever seen him before. Who knows what will actually come of that, though.

Guilt still gnaws in me at the reminder of that day. It was only a few days ago, but the memory is raw in my mind. I can’t believe Bridgette did that. I was so stunned. It was like all of it happened in slow motion. I wouldn’t think Bridgette, my Bridgette, would be capable of something like that.

She isn’t, though. That’s what I have to remind myself. That wasn’t my Bridgette. That was the jealous, childish, irrational Bridgette who feels like she’s losing everything and everyone to Skyla. That little green monster got out, and she lost her goddamn mind. For half a second, I wanted to go to her. It was too easy not to, though. How could I brush what she did under the rug? How could I sympathize when she hurt my best friend? Fuck that. I’m glad to be rid of her. I do not need that kind of psycho shit in my life.

Skyla shakes her head, effectively ignoring me with a laugh.

“How about we put you in the hot seat? How is your love life going? How is that girl from the bonfire?”

“Maryia?” I ask.

Shit. Couldn’t tell you. We haven’t really talked since Skyla’s engagement party. Well, that’s not true. She did text me a few weeks later, saying she hopes I’m okay and she’s sorry. She had fun but can’t risk getting caught. So basically a thanks for the humps, buh bye. I scoff to myself and shake my head before purging all of my thoughts about Maryia Sewall.

Skyla frowns.

“I just, I want someone to want me for me, not for the thrill or taboo factor, you know?” I sigh. “I thought I had it this summer, but she was like all the rest. When things got messy, poof.”

“What happened to her? The girl this summer?” Skyla asks, setting me on edge. If only she knew it was the same girl who assaulted her just days ago.

“Nothing really.” I shrug. “One day we were wrapped around each other in bed, admitting heavy feelings, the next we were here, and she was pretending I never existed outside these walls.”

It’s a little bit of a lie, just a tiny one. There isn’t a good way to explain that we aren’t together because I found her sucking down your fiancé’s cock like it was a Slurpee on a hot day. Skyla gives me her sympathies, but honestly, I don’t want to talk or think about my love life, period. Maybe celibacy is the way to go. These women are too fucking dramatic for me.

* * *

What feels like straight lightning rips through my body as my back bows against the chair I’m strapped to. Wires are placed all over my body and Harry is holding the remote. An image of two women kissing appears on the projector, and the instant it does, bam, it comes again.

I grit my teeth as I attempt to breathe through the pain, but it steals every ounce of my brain capacity. My pain receptors, my focus, everything falls at the will of this electroshock therapy. When the shocking stops, I gasp for a breath desperately, my head lulling to the side as I stare up at the basement ceiling. It’s surprising how dark and drab it is down here. Compared to the rest of the immaculate house, it’s damp, moldy and cold. This is my third ‘session,’ and his tactics are getting more unhinged each time.

“Breathe. Margret. It’s going to be okay. We will cure you. You’re just very sick,” he says as he brushes back my sweaty hair from my face. “I’ll save you,” he promises.

I don’t speak. The last two times I fought, cursed, and swore at him. Told him to go to hell. That just caused me more abuse, more pain. So, I’ve developed a new strategy. Allow the crackpot to think his torture has worked, and maybe it’ll stop.

Harry moves away from me, setting down the remote before peeling off the wires that are taped to me. Relief thrums through me and I’m practically shaking, waiting for him to untie me from this chair. Unfortunately for me, he doesn’t seem to be done just yet. Moving into the corner, he lights a cigarette, puffing on it a few times before walking over to me.

“Now we are going to do some mind exploration. I want you to close your eyes and envision yourself on a beach.”

Slowly, I do as he says, closing my eyes and picturing a warm, sandy beach. It’s a much better reality than where I am currently.

“Now imagine you are next to a beautiful woman. Her body is perfect, tan shining under the sun, breasts spilling out of her bikini top,” he says wistfully, like he’s turning himself on.

Hot searing pain takes me by surprise, forcing my eyes to bulge open as he stabs his cigarette into my bicep. I screech in pain as he takes out a lighter, re-lighting it as he drops down to my legs. The last time I came here, he made my mother strip me down to my bra and panties before tying me up. I begged and pleaded for her not to let him hurt me, to protect me. Instead, she looked at me with disgust and walked out of the room. When she came in to strip me down today, I didn’t even try, didn’t even look at her. I will never forgive her.

Harry rests his head against my panties, inhaling deeply as he lets out an angered growl.

“You’re still aroused, Margret! I can smell it on you!”

“Then get your fucking face away from my crotch, you creep!” I snap.

The sharp sting across my face sends my vision spinning as he snarls at me.

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