Page 103 of Cry For Mercy

Chapter Thirty-Eight

JULIE

After I’d agonised for about an hour, I’d ditched the filleting knife, and gone up for my razor blades. I trusted them. They were safe. I stripped my trousers off, and checked the healing wounds from my previous cuts.

I sat with my back against the bath, and spread my legs, starting with my left leg. I ran my fingers over the scars and healing cuts there, and noticed that there was no real bite of pain from any of them. This was why I needed the cuts.

The voice had only returned this morning, while Adam was here, and it was even more certain that I was some kind of disgusting whore, who didn’t deserve Adam, or any good man. It took six cuts, to make it quiet. Six. It had never needed six before.

The first cut barely affected it. An icy cold lash of pain, and then nothing. The second and third were just the same. I longed for that flare of fire that I normally feel. The burn that eats through whatever is in my head, and banishes it, leaving me with the blissful numbness of a quiet mind.

My next three cuts were destined for the other thigh. It occurred to me that I was running out of room, as the cuts approached my knees. Had I ever had to cut so much in such a short space of time? I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I needed to finish what I’d started. The fourth and fifth cuts, on the opposite leg had the desired effect, sending the icy fire of pain coursing through me, making me sigh with relief.

The sixth cut was mostly for symmetry. I’d come to prefer making the cuts in threes, so it felt like I hadn’t finished, until I made that third cut. With blood seeping from both of my thighs, I rested my head back against the bath’s edge, and closed my eyes. Finally. I felt my control returning.

And it was then that I realised I was pushing away the one man who could be the right one. Had I been with enough wrong ones to see the difference? I think so.

That led me to message Adam, apologising for pushing him away this morning, because I really didn’t want to lose him. His messages were cute, and naughty, and made me so fucking relieved that I took the chance, and messaged him.

I couldn’t wait for him to collect his things, and come back. It might have seemed presumptuous for him to declare that he was moving in for a few days, but it filled me with relief, and excitement, and caused that trickle of warmth between my legs, which told me that at least a part of my intense feelings were due to a desperate need to feel him stretching me with his big cock, fucking me hard, making me come even harder.

I cleaned up the cuts, and patched them with bandages, and then I did exactly as he’d directed in his text. I changed into my fuzzy pyjamas, but ones he hadn’t seen yet. These ones had unicorns on them. I was quite excited to see his reaction when I opened the door. I should have given him a key.

**********

ADAM

Something wasn’t right. I guessed that as soon as I realised that I was blindfolded. And gagged. Oh… and hanging from something, with my wrists tied. What the actual fuck was going on?

I could hear people moving around me, but they were speaking so quietly, that I couldn’t make out voices. I had my suspicions though. Hanging from my hands? I’d seen that recently, hadn’t I? Courtesy of the fucking Bennetts. I didn’t like the implications of my situation.

Also… hanging by your hands, when you’ve got injured ribs? Really fucking painful. They’d felt like they were starting to heal, but now? It was like they’d been kicked again. Repeatedly. My head was also throbbing, in time with my racing heart. I was in a fuckload of trouble, and I didn’t understand why.

The blindfold was suddenly wrenched from my face, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the too-bright lights in the room. When I risked opening my eyes again, I was seeing double. In the worst possible fucking way.

“Evening, Butch. Know why you’re here?” One of the bastards asked, probably Seb, since he was the mouthy one.

I stared from him to his brother, then cast my eyes around the room. No Marco. No Lenore. Cass, however, was sitting on a chair, her legs pulled up to her chest, chin on her knees.

“Stop looking at her.” One of them hissed, grabbing my chin, and turning my face back to theirs.

I tried speaking, but with duct tape over my mouth, I couldn’t get actual words out.

“You know… we trusted you, Butch. We thought we could count on you. All you had to do was your fucking job.” Seb snarled, because I’d decided that one was definitely him. He always looked mean. Samuel usually looked distracted. He also looked at Cass more often. Like he was right now.

“Marco said you could be trusted. Marco vouched for you, bruv. You got any idea how pissed he is right now?”

I was panicking. I’d never been in a dodgier, more terrifying situation than right now. I was helpless. Trapped in a fucking kill room, with the two most dangerous men I’d ever met. There was no chance of rescue. No hope of salvation. I’d lied to them. I’d upset Cass. I’d pissed them off. I’d tried to run. Let’s be honest, any one of those could be the reason why I’d ended up here. Maybe a combination of them all.

“You should have done a better job of disappearing.” Samuel said quietly. “Because now there’s no fucking escape from what you’ve done. You sick fuck.”

I frowned. Hang on a minute. Sick? That wasn’t a comment I expected, from men who thought I’d lied to them. Or for any of the other stuff.

I tried speaking again, but they clearly weren’t going to let me talk. If they even took the gag away, would I even get a chance to speak?

Seb pulled a knife from his belt, making sure it caught the light, so I could see what was coming for me.

“I’m thinking we cut his fucking nads off first.” He muttered viciously, and to my horror, Samuel just nodded, his arms folded against his chest.

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