Page 72 of Her Wicked Knights
When her eyes skim across the room, looking for where her companion disappeared to, they snag on the ceiling, and it takes a moment for her to register what she's looking at.
I watch the horror dawn on her face, helpless to do anything to comfort her. And just as she opens her mouth to think about screaming, Whit lets Audrey's body fall.
She drops to the ground with a thud, and blood splatters around the room, splashing against Marley's smooth skin, covering her thin white tee shirt, painting her in carnage.
Whit managed to slip behind her, pressing his gloved hand against her mouth and cutting off her scream. He's blocking her path to run back the way she came, which she wouldn't be able to escape through anyway.
My chest aches as I watch tears burn already in her eyes and she wretches against Whit's glove, no doubt feeling physically ill from what she's just witnessed, from wearing her best friend's blood. She turns around to get a look at him, confusion and fear mixing into a potent elixir as she stares at him before realizing he isn't alone. Her gaze bounces right over me as we step from the shadows, coming to take our places behind Whit.
"No, no, Lavigne." Whit speaks, but his voice is modulated, cloaked by the little device that his character uses in the movies to disguise their voice. It's a creepy touch, something I never even considered. She would recognize my voice, Rev's, Colton's, and Jake's. I'm not sure she'd recognize Whit's— they haven't interacted a ton—but it's smart to cloak it anyway. "You're not going anywhere."
I don't think Marley even realizes that Whit is moving slowly forward, pushing her toward the stage, toward Audrey's body.
"Please..." She chokes, tears streaming down her face freely now. They glint in the little bit of light in the room, and I feel my heart fracturing further at my helplessness. I'm the one who makes everything okay, and right now I can't make everything okay.
"Please." Whit teases. "Please, please! Please don't kill me!"
His laughter cuts through the air, prompting laughs from others... Carson and Nick, Jake, Mark, some of the faceless figures dressed in black who Mark didn't introduce us to. Anger coils in my veins as they laugh at her misery, fueling Whit's manic performance.
"You can let me go." Marley pleads. "I don't know anything."
"I know you don't know anything. Because you're a stupid whore, Marley Lavigne."
I curl my fists inside the leather gloves, trying to refrain from going and wrapping them around Whit's fucking throat. My anger only grows as he grabs her chin and squeezes, tilting her face to the screen that shows the haunted house so guests can see other people being terrified after they've made it to the end. Except, right now, it's playing a recording that makes me sick to my stomach.
It's so vulnerable, and the thought that Mark did that to her knowing that it was going to be recorded makes me want to punch him in the fucking balls. He's got Marley on her back, his fingers pumping in and out of her. I don't care to see it; I turn my focus to Marley, who tries to look away, to assess the current threat. But Whit doesn't let her gaze move.
"Watch it, Lavigne. This is my favorite part."
Mark steps behind her, seizing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back so that her focus turns back to the screen.
Her shame is clear on her face, embarrassment twining with her fear as tears flow faster and Carson reaches over her shoulder to put a finger on each of her eyelids, pulling them up so she can't close her eyes to try and deny what she's seeing.
"You squeal like a stuck pig when you come." Whit chuckles, his timbre rising and dropping behind that false voice. "I bet you'll bleed like one too, the first time a real man fucks you."
I take a step forward without thinking, ready to slip my hands around his neck until he chokes on those fucking words, butRev's hand darts out to catch mine, and when I get a glance at him, he shakes his head ever so slightly.
"No!" Marley cries, trying to wrench out from under the hands on her.
Carson gets a fistful of her shirt, using it to yank her to him so she can't escape, and the sound of the fabric shredding is surprisingly loud over the laughter.
I turn to Rev, because we can't let this go on. Whatever the fuck this is, it's not what we agreed to.
Whit made it sound like we were going to cherish her, to worship her the way she deserves to be worshipped. This is torture... cruel, malicious, sexual torture. It's not the way I imagined seeing her topless before me for the first time, and I can't bear to look, to see her with her shirt shredded down the center, exposed to everyone in here.
"Stay." Rev whispers, so quietly that I almost don't hear it above Marley's panicked breaths.
Mark catches her by the hair as she tries to brush past him, knocking her to the floor when she slips in a puddle of Audrey's blood, and Rev's hand wraps around mine, squeezing to try and remind me that he's here too. He won't let her get hurt. But this is already hurting her... maybe worse than just physically.
"Don't worry about why." Whit tells her, looming over the spot where she lies flat on her back, just feet away from Audrey's lifeless body. "Worry about what comes next."
Whit drops to his knees and my panic surges; I take a step, dragging rev forward with me, ready to fight him off with my bare hands if I have to. He straddles her, leaning close, covering her body with his.
"You don't know who we are under these masks, but I assure you, we know you, Marley Maire Lavigne of 487 River Lane. We know where your parents are buried and where you sleep... where your sister sleeps and what her favorite position is..."
Rev withdraws his hand from mine, but he positions his body just slightly in front of me, a warning not to make any sudden, insane moves. And turning on Whit right now would be insane. He's got more people in his corner at the moment, but I'm not going to sit here and let him do things to her.
Rev's touch returns a moment later, and I realize he's slipped his glove off. I can feel his skin on mine as he wraps his fingers around my wrist, a reminder that he's right here, that he's not going to abandon me, and we aren't going to abandon her.
