Page 80 of Villainous Mind

“Fucking hell,” I said. “He’s mad.”

“Now, you will be his special girl.” She gripped my arm, her fingers digging into my skin. “Please,” she nodded. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Bryn, what does he do to you?” I said, afraid to hear the answer.

“Everything.” She didn’t elaborate further, and she didn’t need to. My mind was fully capable of filling in the blanks.

I put my arms around her and held her until the light under the door faded, and the only thing in front of me was complete darkness. My mind wandered. I was here at the house the day after Bryn went missing. Morgan had her in this garage, locked up, while he prepared and ate dinner with me. Had he killed Mary by then, or was she still alive? Did he drive me home and then come back and rape Bryn? The nausea returned, and I moved as far as I could into the corner and threw up, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

“He’ll be mad,” Bryn whispered. “He doesn’t like messes.”

“I don’t care what the fuck he likes,” I said. My anger built, and I let it flow through me, seeping into every crack and shattered piece of my heart until I was filled with nothing but bitterness and contempt.

It could have been an hour later or perhaps two when he opened the door. I had lost all sense of time. He carried a small lantern with him and set it down on a shelf. The light dimly illuminated the space around it. He unlocked the cell door and came in, looking toward where I threw up. “That will have to be cleaned up,” he said, leaving. He returned with kitchen towels, a sponge, and some disinfectant, handing them to me. “Next time, there is a bucket.” He pointed to the far corner of the cell. “Your chain will reach it. I change it out twice a day.”

Bryn scooted back to her corner, whimpering. “Come precious,” he said, unlocking the shackle on her wrist and helping her up. “Let’s give you a bath. You know I like it when you smell fresh and clean.”

“Where are you taking her?” I yelled. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her.”

He let go of her hand and turned on me, grabbing my face between his thumb and fingers as he flicked open the knife. “Shut up,” he hissed, running the tip over the cut on my neck. Reopening it immediately. “You’ll only make it worse for her. Now clean up your filthy mess.”

He left the lantern when he locked the cage and led Bryn away. The faint glow gave me an eerie glimpse at my new prison. Somehow, it seemed less scary in the dark.

Less real.

My neck was bleeding, and I poured some disinfectant on a towel and held it to the cut, drawing in a deep breath at the fiery burn. When it stopped, I moved to the corner and sopped up my vomit, throwing the paper towels in the bucket Morgan showed me. It smelt of lemon disinfectant, sour urine, and shit. I thought I might be sick again, but I was able to swallow it back down.

The minutes ticked by. I sat back in my spot and waited, trying not to imagine what was happening in the house.

What he was doing to her.

Eventually, I closed my eyes, resting my head on my arms.

The sound of the door, as it opened, woke me. Morgan led Bryn back inside the garage. Her hair was damp, and her eyes were red and swollen, I assumed from crying. I stood up, waiting for him to unlock the cell. The bottle of disinfectant lay uncapped at my feet.

He didn’t bring her to the cage but took her to a chair, sat her down, and handed her the pocket knife. “It’s like we talked about upstairs, Bryn. You have a choice. You know I can only have one special girl, and it’s your choice to make.”

He unlocked the cage, and as he stepped inside, I picked up the bottle and threw the contents in his face. He wailed, swabbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Bryn,” I shouted. “Help me. The knife. Bring me the knife.”

I kicked at Morgan, aiming for his groin, but he moved out of reach. His face and eyes were bright red.

“Bryn,” I yelled again.

She just sat there, staring.

Morgan was regaining his composure. “You little bitch,” he spat. “You’ll pay for that.” Tears streamed down his face. He unlocked the cuff around my wrist and yanked my arm behind my back until I thought it would snap as he dragged me before Bryn.

“Bryn, look at me,” he ordered. Her eyes snapped to attention.

Fuck. What had Morgan done to her to demand such obedience? How had he tortured her?

“Good girl. What’s it going to be?” he asked. He pulled my head back, exposing my throat. “You can slit your wrists as Mary did and end your pain and sadness, or you make one clean slice across her neck where this cut is and end her pain and sadness.”

“Don’t do it, Bryn. Don’t kill yourself. He’s playing with your mind and your emotions,” I yelled.

“What an altruistic little cunt you are. Willing to give your life for another,” he wrenched my arm tighter. “That’s not how this game is played. She must make the decision without your influence. The choice has to be hers.”

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