Page 15 of Lethal
Later that night, after Bash and I had driven away from the circus, heading off to our next location. I told my brother to find us somewhere secluded to have our treat. Bash had looked worried when I showed him what I had hidden forus, but I reassured him that this time, I had done everything right, everything he would have done. We pulled down a long, winding road in the dark, the heavy pine trees obscuring our presence, until we found a sheltered spot. I went and pulled my special treat from her hiding place, and she had woken up. Her face was sweaty and covered in tears. Her hair was all disheveled and matted around her, and her body was flushed with red blotches. Suddenly, she didn’t look as delectable as she had before, and a sense of disappointment began to fill me. However, Bash reassured me that I had done well, and that she would be a perfect meal, and lots of fun for the night. That helped to cheer me up, and all the voices agreed he was right.
I threw her to the ground and tied a noose around her neck, then wrapped the end around a thick branch. She begged behind the ball gag, but her words were mumbled at best, and I wasn’t really interested in hearing her complaints. I wrapped her long hair around my fist and yanked her, until she was half standing, and bit into the skin between her neck and collarbone. She was juicy, the fear adding a special spice to her flavor.
Bash came over with his favorite lighter, and pressed the shiny metal against the flesh of her back, and I watched with amusement as she screamed and cried. Poor pretty porcelain doll, I bet she regrets coming to the circus now, looking for a fright. The smell of sizzling flesh filled the air around us, making me incredibly hungry. Bash insisted that we needed entertainment before we could eat, so we tied her to one of the broader tree trunks, and took turns throwing metal darts at her.
We got bored quickly with that, and decided to string her up instead. The ropes did most of the work for us, tight around her wrists, pulling her skyward like she was some broken-winged angel in a cheap carnival play, so we could play at ease,without fear of her attempting to run away. She screamed like the prettiest music, and cried like a cello bleeding its heart out. I wish I could have learned an instrument, so I could have played along with her. She was filled with talent, my porcelain doll, but I was just mediocre Wren, that no one but Bash wanted around.
I leaned forward, pressing my lips to her ear, and whispered more riddles, as I began to fill her holes with my hard cock, and used my knife to begin to peel her apart. “What has skin but no face?” “What speaks without words?” “What loves you while it eats you?” She didn’t answer those.
They never do.
It made me so sad. I had thought she was perfect. I thought she wanted to play with me, and have fun, but all she was doing was ugly crying. I didn’t mind her screams, though. Those made my cock so hard that I could go again and again inside of her. I kissed both her eyelids, licking up her salty tears as an appetizer, then moved down and bit her cheek, until her skin ran red with her blood. I used my paring knife to cut a chunk of flesh off of her arm, and heated it on a stick over the fire. Bash helped himself to chunks of her meaty thighs, after he took turns inside of her holes. Then each of us cut off one of her breasts, and I cooked mine with some barbecue sauce, but Bash seasoned his properly with garlic and thyme, chastising me for having the taste buds of a toddler. All the while, my precious porcelain doll screamed until she passed out, only to reopen those brilliant green eyes, and stare at me in terror, as if I were a monster, and no longer the clown she had laughed at in the circus.
When both Bash and I were done playing with our food, and had eaten to our heart’s content, I carved her a smile wider than mine. So she could always laugh with me, and she could understand that she belonged to me, and that I had cherishedher, and would always remember her. My precious porcelain doll is now broken, but it remains beautiful to me...
Then Bash came over to look at her, didn’t he? He took the last bite, didn’t he? He sliced her chest open, ripped out her beating heart, and consumed it, without giving you more than just a quick taste,the old woman croaks with malice, pulling me out of my fond memories.
“Yes,” I whisper, with rage building in my veins. I’m the oldest twin, and I deserved the last bite. She wasmine.
He always gets the end. He’ll have the Doctor now too,the angry man growls.The wind howls pitifully in the empty courtyard in agreement. The sound rustles through the trees, as if my thoughts and memories had outraged them. I lean my head back and laugh, until the restraints around my waist cut off my breath, as I stare up at the starry night sky, wishing I could leave Wellard once and for all. Fresh tears stream down my cheeks, and soak into my grin. “She’ll see. She’ll see I’m fun too,” I whisper to the wind.
Cut your name into her. Show her the rhyme. She’ll love you. They always do when they’re dead,the clown calls with praise.
I whisper into the cold stone beneath me: “What walks in bright white, but dies in red? What comes to cure, but feeds itself instead?Tick-tock, little Doctor. We’re all waiting for you to bleed.”
“Let’s go, asshole. Their time is up, and I don’t give a fuck if the good Doctor got a proper dicking. You need to go back to your room now,” the angry guard yells from behind me, and I grimace with fury, having been so distracted that I didn’t hear him enter the courtyard. Bash would be so disappointed if he knew I let my guard down. I have to make sure that he never finds out.
“Coming! It’s my turn anyway, to play with my new porcelain doll.” I skip toward the wary guard, my shackles clanging alongwith me. “Don’t worry, I’ll play with you too soon enough, you’ll love my games.”
My heart is pounding so loudly in my ears, drowning out all the other sounds around me. I don’t remember anything past dashing from their small room, with the audio of their voices still trailing me, like specters that just won’t release me from their malignant grip. I must’ve passed nurses, the guards, and the front desk, but everything between the twins’ cell and my office is gone.Just static. Just noise. Just the sound of my soul screaming.
I stumble into my office, my legs barely able to carry my weight in my disheveled state. My bra is still wrapped around my neck, buttons fastened incorrectly on my blouse, and I’m pretty sure my skirt is on backward, in my haste to cover myself. My fingers shake as I yank my office drawer open violently. The lock catches, and I nearly rip the damn thing off, as I stifle a scream that’s trapped in my throat, threatening to strangle me. I grab Cecelia’s file, the one I’m not supposed to have, the one I had promised myself I wouldn’t bring out unless I was ready. Ready for what?To face the truth? To break apart? To betray the medical oaths I took when I became a doctor?What am I even doing here? All of this is crazy.
I shove it into my bag, as if it might burn me with its poisonous contents, but the truth is, it already has. I turn and race out of the building, fleeing into the freezing night, and refusing to stop to speak to anyone. My heels are loud on the cracked parking lot pavement, each step ringing like rapid gunfire. The dark night calls to me, whispering sweet nothings to entice me to return to them, but I refuse to listen to its seductive call. I don’t take a deep breath until I’m inside my car with all the locks engaged, as if they could keep out the monsters that hunt me. The drive home occurs without conscious thought; one moment, I’m in Wellard’s parking lot, and the next, I’m standing in front of my apartment door, dazed.
I finally release my trapped scream, once my door shuts loudly behind me and I’m all locked up tightly in my apartment, and I’m finally alone, finally safe. At least as safe as I’m ever going to be, considering the madness that I just allowed to happen. He could have killed me, and I would have allowed it. I let him use me, hurt me, like I was nothing. What the fuck is the matter with me? I should have tried to kill him, to end all of this madness, instead, I became a puddle for him, coming all over his cock.
I drop the file on the floor as if it is soaked in blood, and stare at it. My coat, which I don’t even recollect putting on, clings to my limbs, its weight somehow reassuring, even though I know it could never stop the monsters that hunt me. My body won’t stop shaking, my legs finally giving out, as I crumble to the floor with a choked gasp. My throat is sore and achy, from Bash’s thick cock pounding into it. I raise my hands to its surface, and rub along its length, finally releasing myself from the bra.You’re a mess! You’re weak. Look at how you’re breaking down over them.The incriminating, ugly words weigh heavily on my mind in a vicious loop.
Bash’s voice is still in my head too, smooth, deep, too calm for someone who’s carved people open like a butcher.“Come closer, my pretty slut, let me have a taste of you.”Those vibrant blue-gray eyes dared me to retreat. They wanted me to show him my weak, quivering underbelly, like a dog who understands they’ve met a wolf. A vile predator hellbent on my ultimate destruction.God, what have I done?I should’ve walked away. I should’ve stopped, the second I heard Cecelia’s name leave his tempting, misleading lips. I should have shut it down, gone to Halstead, and reported the inappropriate conduct...and what?
Let him win whatever sadistic game he is playing with me?
Let them all keep lying?
Let her die all over again, alone in that rancid hell?
I crawl across my small apartment, reaching my living room, and force myself to sit down on the edge of my couch. My stiff hands brace on my knees, and even then they continue to tremble. I feel like if I move even another inch, I’ll splinter into a million fragments. As if my bones are made of glass, and someone has already taken a hammer to me.
You begged him like a depraved slut.“Please! Ohmygod, fuck, ohmygod, please, Bash!”The sound of my voice echoes obscenely in my mind. I press my shaking hands to my face,and the heat, the shame,it burns. My body remembers the moment too vividly, the way I had leaned in, wanting his touch. The masculine scent of his body pressed against mine. How my breath caught in my throat, unable to refute him. How his voice lowered just for me. Fuck, I let him in. I let him do whatever he wanted with me, and he used me like a whore,his whore.A part of me,God help me,wanted him, wanted him to take from me, until there was nothing left but ashes.
Bash saw it. He saw all of it. Like I was already naked, but not only on the outside, worse, I was equally as exposed on the inside.Bare. Broken. Desperate. Willing.He knew, the minute I knelt for him, that he had won.You’re so weak that you let him wrap you in one of his games, and the psychopathic killer played you like he did all his other victims. You’re not special, Caterina. You’re not smarter than they are. They have you right where they want you, and you fell headfirst into their trap. You will never leave this place.
I stand up too quickly, attempting to run from the accusations in my mind, but there’s nowhere to go. The world tilts, and my apartment swims before my eyes. I begin to pace back and forth, needing an outlet for my restless rage. My hands clench with the necessity for violence, for bloodshed, for what I should have done in retaliation, but instead, I ran away like a scared little girl. My heart pounds heavily in my chest, and more screams beg to be unleashed.Monsters!They are monsters, and I allowed one of them to touch me, to corrupt me, to fill me up with his poison and filth. The sensation of Bash’s cum still soaking the crotch of my thong repulses me, and I reach down and rip it off, throwing the soaked material far away from me as if it’s venomous. No, not venomous,lethal. Everything about Bash Norwood is lethal, deadly, and meant to rid you of your life.
“I hope you’re not on birth control, little toy. I would love it if I filled your womb with one of my monsters.”Heat races upthe back of my neck, followed by sour bile in my throat, and I barely make it to my kitchen sink, before I’m unleashing all of the meager contents of my stomach.
Why did I let him speak to me like that?
