Page 68 of Keeping Her Under
Throwing the car into drive, I head to the empty warehouse we’re keeping her in. It got closed years ago due to containing asbestos, and the giant signs about it have kept urban explorers and the homeless out.
Parking my van around the back, I head inside without hesitation. The material is only dangerous if it’s in dust form, and I’m planning on beating the shit out of Ryan’s mom, not the walls.
I glance down at my phone, checking for a text from Asher. “Fucking asshole,” I mutter when there is nothing there.
I check it constantly as I get the gear out of the back of the van –purchased on the drive down from Summer’s mom’s– and take it into the building. My irritation grows with every step my phone doesn’t buzz. I trust my cousin to bring her to me, so I’m not worried something’s gone badly wrong.
But fucking hell, would it kill him to text? It’ll take one –
Unknown Caller: On our way.
I ask him if anything’s wrong. Just in case.
Unknown Caller: Yeah. I’m not getting my cock sucked.
I look away with a scoff of disgust, hating that I had to fucking read that. I want to text him back to tell him he’s an asshole, but he’ll probably come back with something like: I know. I’m just gaping and waiting to be plugged.
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter as I shove the phone into my pocket. I shift the heaviest of the two duffel bags onto my shoulder while I carry the other one, which is much lighter, in my hand.
I walk into the old, run-down office where we’re keeping Ryan’s mom. The place is full of dust and smells of piss and shit
“Please… please let me go…” the woman cries. She has a blindfold on, but she turns her head to face me.
Tears streak down her dirty cheeks. Old feces cling to her bare feet as she sits curled up against the radiator. She’s tried to pick a spot on the floor to use as the toilet, but she must have stepped in it at some point. Her naked body quivers as she hears me enter the room.
“I won’t say anything to anyone,” she sobs. “I swear.” She shakes her head. “I swear. Just let me go. Please… I have a son.”
I clench my jaw as I approach her. I want to tell her that her son is the only reason she’s here, but she’ll learn that truth soon enough. The wait will be worth it too; the moment’s going to be fucking glorious.
I set the two duffel bags onto the rickety desk, which is the only piece of furniture in here. I stretch out the kinks in my back and shoulders as she keeps trying to humanize herself to me. But mothers are the worst sort of monsters.
Unzipping both of the bags, I grab the medical mask out first. The stench in this room’s disgusting. Next, I put on the rubber cleaning gloves and a pair of overshoes.
Turning to face the back wall, I pluck the key off the nail it’s hanging on. As I approach Ryan’s mom, she continues to beg for her release.
I don’t say a word as I free the chain from the radiator. The other end of it, though, stays locked onto the handcuffs digging into her wrists.
She thanks me as I yank her to her feet. She holds out her arms, thinking I’m going to let her leave. Instead, I lead her over to the other side of the room and promptly chain her to the desk.
“No!” she cries. “Please!”
She doesn’t try to fight or pull on her chains. She doesn’t have the willpower anymore. She just begs and sobs. A broken record on repeat.
I grab a gallon of water from the duffel bag and pour it over her head. She yelps in shock, but then shuts up. Shivering, she lifts her arms in front of her chest.
I grab her wrists and force them back down. I’m disgusted at the sight of her, but I need her clean and dressed before Ryan gets here. Asher’s taking him on a detour to give me time, but he has my girl with him too. I want to be able to text him that I’m done as soon as I can.
Ryan’s mom whimpers as I squirt shampoo on her head. The uncertainty of what I’m doing and why is scaring the shit out of her. I scrub her down with cold professionalism. Then rinse her with two more bottles.
After wrapping her in a towel, I zip up the small duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder. I take off my overshoes and drop them on the floor, followed by the gloves.
Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I text Asher to tell him that I’m ready. He lets me know he’s driving over.
Removing the chain from the desk, I lead her out of the office. She follows me like a dog, whimpering and with her tail tucked.
A mattress sits in the middle of the warehouse. Asher’s cleaned the area around it and laid out a dozen candles on the hard floor. Red silk rose petals have been tossed everywhere.
I shove her down onto the bed. My cock twitches at the violence of it, remembering all those times I was dragged into my room and shoved down before I could make myself pass out.
