Page 4 of Strings Attached
I clenched my jaw. “What’s wrong with me?” I asked myself for the thousandth time. No number of psychologists had ever helped with what the world calledtrauma, but to me, it was my way to cope. My way to gain back the sexuality that belonged to me and me alone.
My fingers brushed against something hard, and I grabbed the old pill bottles I’d kept in case. Codeine. Just the thought of relief sent my heart fluttering in my chest. No pain. When I took these, it was as though I floated away into a dreamless sleep—one that wasn’t plagued with nightmares or sex. But the more I took, the less they worked, and that was beyond annoying. It was the one thing that got me to stop...eventually. But not before that last time with Lee and his friends.
At the thought of my last sexual escapade, my pussy clenched, and I let out a shuddering breath. Sex with Lee was for discounts on the codeine, nothing else. He was objectively good looking, but I saw him for the scum he really was and just didn’t care for him. And I knew for a fact he didn’t like me, often calling me names, and belittling me. Not in the way I wanted it but really just to be mean.
Still, he fucked me rough like I enjoyed. Not quite hard enough, but better than I’d had so far in life. Ironically, I’d had more sexual relationships before I’d turned eighteen than as an adult, and part of me had always blamed my social worker’s help. I’d suddenly had food on the table and never went hungry. And soon enough, I ate my stresses, my anxieties, as well as my joys and victories. Any excuse, really.
I stripped down until I was naked, then sat on the edge of my bed. Part of me didn’t actually want to get off tonight; I still had the image of Patrice getting murdered seared into my memory. Yet again, the thought of the killer with the mask crawled into my mind and settled there. I pictured him unlocking my door with ease, using a hook of sorts to undo the chain as well. He’d walk inside, and despite his steel-toed boots, he wouldn’t make a sound as he approached where I slept.
He’d stare at me, sleeping naked, the sheet barely covering any part of me… Goosebumps covered my skin, and I opened the drawer to my nightstand to grab the vibrating dildo. It wouldn’t be the killer in the mask, but I could definitely use my imagination.
3
Exchange
After leaving a voicemail for a potential serial killer, I decided it was time for me to put into motion my contingency plan to keep from becoming another murder victim. I headed toward the Rideau Center, hoping Martin worked today; I needed his help more than ever.
The cool air hit me like a ton of bricks, and I shivered as my sweaty skin turned icy. I rubbed my arms as I followed the crowd of people coming off a bus, keeping up with the pace of the busy city life.
Having grown up in a small town just on the other side of the river, it had taken some time to get used to the hustle and bustle of everyday life here. Luckily for me, I was used to stress.
As I approached the computer store, I spotted Martin inside, typing on one of those fancy tablets that would take months of savings to buy. After all, the only money I made was from my job as a teacher’s assistant and the bursaries from my good grades.
“What’s up?” Martin said with a grin as he finished with something on the screen. When he looked at me with his baby blues, his smile vanished. “Whoa... you okay? You’re pale as a ghost.”
“Thanks. You look great, too,” I said sarcastically. “I’m here about the laptop.” Martin was a good friend, and a serial killer toying with me wasn’t something I wanted to drag him into, but I’d run out of choices. “Were you able to finish with it?”
“Yeah, it’s all done. Quite the complex software...” He arched an eyebrow at me as though waiting for an explanation, but when I pressed my lips together, he rolled his eyes. “It’s like that again?”
“Look, you know what my final report is about,” I whispered, leaning forward to make sure no one overheard us. “Can you blame me for being paranoid from time to time?”
“I really wish you weren’t so obsessed with serial killers.” He crouched and, when he straightened, put my laptop on the counter. “Your phone is connected to it as well, as you asked.”
“Perfect.”
He pushed the device aside and leaned his forearms against the white counter. The piercings on his face caught the overhead lights, making them almost glow. “Am I going to get into any type of trouble for this, Jill?”
“No...” When he gave me a look, I repeated the statement with more certainty, “No.” The serial killer didn’t need to know who created the program for me, only that it was the one way that would keep him from just instantly adding me to his victim list.
“You know if this comes back to me and the police ask questions...”
“It’ll be okay.” I forced a smile.
“Usual exchange as agreed, then?” He pushed his bleach blond hair from his face. “I actually have a break coming up in a few minutes.”
My heart beat a bit faster as my cheeks warmed. It wasn’t the first time I traded a blowjob for free help with computers, but any time we did anything intimate, it just made my crush on him grow deeper. Even though I knew he’d never go out with me officially since I wasn’t the type of girl he’d date. I’d seen the ones he was with, and they were always fit and active—the opposite of me.
“I’ll meet you at the usual spot then?”
“Yeah, I’ll finish with the laptop. Wanted to double-check there isn’t any kind of tracking on it.” He bopped my nose playfully before turning his attention back to the device. “I’ll see you in about ten minutes?” he asked, not looking back up at me.
I nodded but added, “Sure.”
Our usual spot.
A washroom for the disabled on the same floor where he worked. So romantic. It was rarely ever used. A few people went inside to do drugs or even sleep, but that was mostly at night. During the day, it remained empty save for the occasional sexual acts between me and Martin whenever we were both horny or I needed a favor. When it was for an exchange, it was always a blowjob. The first few times, I’d felt so used and dirty afterward, but the more I did it, the less it bothered me. It wasn’t like when my foster father had forced me to do the same thing. With Martin, it was different. It was consensual. It was my choice.
Down the long and empty hallway toward the washrooms, I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d gotten to this point in my life. A blowjob in exchange for safety. A serial killer who knew I was looking into him. Watching a murder happen through video live. And yet, I barely felt any of it. Numb to the world despite my one drive: write and publish my report.
