Page 142 of Soul So Dark
“Do you know how long I’ve been with you, Dallas?” His lips brush against mine as he speaks. “The thing about pretty little flowers is that you’re not supposed to pick them, you’re supposed to leave them be and let them grow. But they’re so beautiful, you can’t help but want to touch them.”
Bowen speaks like he’s confessing a secret, and each time his hips grind against mine, I want to scream until my lungs give out.
“You know when I got this?” He glances at the bluebonnets stretching from his wrist to his elbow. “It was the night you turned 18, baby girl.”
I recoil as he releases my chin and runs his hand down to the curve of my chest.
“That needle feltso good.Almost as good as watching you run the track at Dire Ridge, following you through the Haunted Forest in Hellbranch on Halloween, and knowing exactly where to find you at Ryland’s every time you skipped class with your friends—Shelby…Maddie…Carter…and Dire Ridge’s star shooting guard, number 17…” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Austin…Bostwick.”
Oh my god…
“It was enough at the time,” Bowen continues, “just admiring you like a beautiful flower—mybeautiful flower—with those goddamn blue eyes of yours.”
Practically catatonic, I stare at the bluebonnets, clenching my jaw as his hand moves over me.
“But I’m sick of looking at this ink. Now I want the real thing.”
This is it. I’m going to die here. Dread fills my soul as his poisonous touch moves down my torso to my hip, where I feel him touch the waist of my pants.
“And I get what I fucking want.”
With a snap of his fingers, he unfastens the button of my pants. I start thrashing again, grunting as I try to push him away, to shimmy out from beneath him. But it’s no use, he’s bigger, and he’s stronger. Bowen grabs my wrist, making me cry out. Then he grabs the other and pins my hands above my head.
“If you keep fighting me, Dallas, I’ll have to break that pretty face of yours. And then you’ll have to sit somewhere quiet until you can behave, just like mylastgirl.”
My face contorts in frustration, the tears he licked off me already replaced by fresh ones. Bowen drops one hand and cups the side of my face, slowly tracing my lips with his thumb. His stills on my bottom lip and then gives it a gentle tug.
“Open that mouth for me, baby girl.”
I give a quick shake of my head, squeezing my eyes shut. But then he grabs my throat and gives me a rough shake as he cuts off my air. “I’ll snap your neck right now, Dallas. You think I give a fuck? I’ve done worse things to a dead body.”
Out of panic or the need to breathe, I open my mouth and Bowen hooks his index and middle finger over my teeth, sliding them over my tongue. I want to gag the further back he goes until, on reflex, I close my mouth, covering his fingers in spit.
A few seconds later, he retracts his hand and reaches down. My panicked breaths give way to muted squeaks as I try to keep it together, but fail miserably. He gently pulls the zipper on my pants down and pulls one side open.
“You know your eyes are the brightest after you’ve been crying? They’re fucking hypnotizing, just like they are right now.”
“Stop, stop, stop, stop…” I squeak in shallow breaths like a pathetic incantation, but it’s only fuel for Bowen’s sadistic game.
My thighs go rigid as Bowen slips his hand down my underwear, eliciting a terrified gasp when I feel his fingers on my bare skin. My sneakers pound against the seats and the door, but his waist keeps my legs firmly splayed open. He hisses through his teeth as he painstakingly moves his fingers in slow circles. I dig in and press my ass into the seat, trying in vain to evade his touch, but he finds what he’s looking for and I let out a shriek as he pushes one finger inside me.
My mouth twists into a nauseated grimace, and when I dare to open my eyes, he’s gazing down at me, oscillating between awe and the snarl of a hungry beast.
“I just stared at you over that casket for the longest time, and that’s when I realized you’re the one.”
Suddenly, Rory’s voice rings out in my head.
Oh, Dally…he doesn’t want to kill you…
Maybe if I hyperventilate, I’ll pass out. Maybe if I’m unconscious, it’ll be relatively painless. But he continues moving his palm against me with the most wretched intent, and with each movement, my body betrays me more, detached from the grotesque scene playing out.
“You like that?” he teases when he feels the friction subside. “You want to hear about how I counted down the days until I could keep you for myself?”
At the last word, he pushes a second finger inside me and I go rigid with a muted cry. The corners of his mouth curl with amusement at the sound of my agony.
“Everyone will see what I want them to see on the outside, but you’ll be my queen, my goddess, everything that no one else could be. And I’ll never share you with anyone on this earth.”
I try to look away, close my eyes, disassociate in any way possible. But he knows what he’s doing, curling his fingers while he continues his vile game.
