Page 107 of Voracious

Everyone says that.

Bernadette’s stilettos click across the floor, her hair swishing side to side. She glances over her shoulder at me as she unlocks her office and grins at me when I walk in. Her husband doesn’t follow us.

Then she locks it.

She flirts with me while discussing the case. I’m certain she’s flirting. Her tone and everything is seductive, and it does absolutely nothing for me. But she does have a lot of stuff on my dad, so I ignore her advances and sit down with each file.

The night after, she has me over again, this time introducing me to her eighteen-year-old daughter Cassie. She blushes when I nod at her, and Bernadette says we “look good together”, but I shake off the comment and ask what the plan is.

For the next three weeks, I spend most of my nights in Bernadette’s office, constructing a strong argument to have my dad transferred here. She has a list of top lawyers for us to use, and says she’ll have a sit down with my mother when we have everything set. For now, it’s to be between us, so I don’t get her hopes up.

“He can’t ever be released,” I tell her. “He’s not fit enough. He needs to be secured and controlled. He’ll revert to his old ways, and I don’t think anyone will be able to keep him from my mother.”

“Agreed,” she replies, sitting down at the table beside me. “I think we should celebrate how much we’ve managed to get through. Would you like a drink?”

Three hours later, I’m smashed, unable to read any of the documents properly. Bernadette is sitting on the table, leaning back on her hand as she drinks herwhisky. “Do you have anyone special in your life?”

I look up from the papers. “What?”

“A girlfriend. Someone you turn to for… pleasure and fun?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t care for that stuff.” And I mean it – I only ever wanted to have sex when I was with Stacey. The idea of fucking someone else makes me uncomfortable.

She smiles. “You really are like your father, aren’t you?”

And then she leans down, her alcohol-ridden breath hitting my face as she tries to kiss me.

I pull back. “What are you doing?”

Sighing, she stands from the table and walks to her desk. “Forgive me. I… Imust’veread the signals wrong.” She pours two more drinks then walks over and hands me one. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” I reply, taking a gulp of the strong spirit. “Because I’m not interested. I’m only here for my dad.”

“Oh, I know.”

A few minutes go by, and sweat builds on my skin. I need to take myhoodieoff. The place is like a fucking furnace. My vision blurs, and I can’t stop closing my eyes. Then the glass slips from my hand, and my head hits a hard surface as I pass out.

My body jerks as I try to sit up in bed. Bernadette’s beside me – naked – and I have a condom stuck to my dick, my hand chained to thebedframe. Archie, her husband, is sitting in the corner of the room, smiling at me as he sparks a lighter.

My head is fuzzy, and I want to stand up, to speak, to fucking yell at them, but I’m too weak, and I fall back into the bed.

They don’t let me leave.

They touch me. He makes me touch her.

They inject me with drugs to keep me weak – they text my parents, pretending to be me, telling them that I’m fine and not to worry. I’m working on a project.

I have my first panic attack in ages, but she doesn’t let me out of the house, even when I try to run. They catch me and beat me until I’m unconscious then drag me back into the building.

They won’t stop touching me.

I’m sore. I’m confused. Why did I kill that guy?

My hands are fucking shaking. I can still see the blood.

I can finally go home, but now they hold a murder over my head, so they force me to do things. Nasty fucking things that make me thousands. I try to escape them by moving away, but they find me.

My apartment in Stirling is far enough away that I’ll never run into Stacey, but there’s nowhere I can run to hide from them, no matter how much money I make from the evil pair.

---