Page 5 of We The Depraved
The air in the room changes when he stands. I can’t make him out but I know who he is now. He’s the man from the cemetery.
“I don’t know what my father promised you,” I say.
“You, Kitten. When you were sixteen he promised you.”
My throat closes up, it feels like I can’t breathe. This has to be some sort of nightmare and I find that I’ve started to grip the sheets so hard, I am scared I might tear them.
What is he going to do to me?
Why would that sick bastard promise me to him?
“Why…why would he do that?”
The bed dips under his weight and I feel him grab me then, by my upper arm, yanking me towards him. “He wanted money, Sage. I had that. That tight virgin pussy was supposed to be mine, but your father the bastard he was. He paid the money back in full once he made the bench.”
My body felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on me. The sweet smoke of the cigar and the mix of his cologne surround me and I prayed this was a nightmare.
“Your father was a meticulous man,” the stranger says.
“He was a fucking prick,” I state, thinking about how my arm is still in this man’s grip.
The stranger realizes it at the same time I think the thought and he releases me.
“You’re going to marry me, Sage.”
Shock courses through me and I’m not sure I heard him correctly. My throat still feels closed and dry.
Water would be great,I think.
“Your father even in death owes me, and I aim to collect what is mine.” For some reason, I can clearly imagine the man in my head clearly staring straight ahead as if he’s in a daze. “You will belong to me.”
The feeling of fight or flight, the need to flee again is climbing over my skin. My fingers ache to tear at my chest as though it will help me breathe.
I know it won’t, so I sit still.
I don’t move.
Like a good girl. I’m triggered just like that.
“What…what if I say no.”
He stands then and I know he’s going to leave. “I’ll give you four good reasons to say yes. Carla Garcia and her baby.”
I know regret will soak my soul but I have to know what else he knows. He’s studied me to know that Carla was even a thing. That her child was even a thing.
“I know about the money laundering, and the pretty sister tucked away in Paris, hoping to return home soon.”
My skin feels soaked in ice at the mention of my baby sister. She has been protected for years from all the monstrosities of life. Paris has been her home. The stench of Houston has been washed away from her flesh and bathed in culture and good cheese. Every day, I hope she’s forgotten about this shit hole.
“So I know sweet Kitten,” he speaks again, sounding closer to the door. “I feel a yes coming very soon.”
My eyes search for the ember of the cigar unable to find it, and my nose breathes in the rest of the lingering sweet smoke. In the dark, I shrug. “I think it’ll still be no.”
He offers up a laugh, and I hate it.
I don’t even hear him leave. Part of me wonders if I dreamed it all. My fingers go back to searching for the gun but I don’t find it. That’s how I know I didn’t dream it. The next morning, after I’ve tossed and turned. I get up and I go into my kitchen. Coffee has been brewed and there beside my gun is a jewelry box. A scream hides inside my throat but curiosity is a bitch. I open it and find myself starring at the largest fucking diamond I’ve ever seen. I have no idea who this man is but two things are certain.
One. He is a monster.
