Take Me With You(12)

He walks over to me, remarkably light on his feet, despite the tall black boots he's wearing. He reaches down and turns off the flashlight and puts it in his pocket.

“You okay?” Carter asks. He's lying on his side on the bed, facing away from me, but he tilts his neck a little to address me.

“Mmmhmm,” I mutter, afraid of upsetting the man tying my hands behind my back. He reaches for the other scarf and places it in his pocket. Gripping the painfully tight ligature around my hands, he pulls me to my feet.

“Show me where your purse is,” he commands, pushing me out the door. “Move and I'll kill all of you. I'll slit the boy's throat.” He closes the door behind him and shoves me against the opposite wall. He pulls twine out of his pocket and ties it around the bedroom door handle, dragging the other end across the hall to the bathroom, and ties it to that door handle. It makes it impossible for Carter to open the door, and if he tried it would be noisy. He blindfolds me next.

“How can I show you anything?” I snipe. He doesn't answer.

My gut twists in sickness. This is too much work for someone who wants a purse. But I'm bound and Carter is trapped, and Johnny is still tucked in bed. I have no choice but to quietly comply.

He yanks me by the arm and drags me to down the hall. His hands grip my waist and he sends me launching onto a bed. We're in my parents' room.

“No,” I whimper. I want to scream, thrash, fight. But my hands are numb from the binds and he's strong. And if I run, he could hurt Johnny.

He crawls over me, using his knees to separate my legs. I resist, but what I mount is met with effortless handling.

His hands run up my thigh, over the papery fabric of my nightdress. He rubs his fingertips on one of my nipples. I writhe underneath him, but that only seems to encourage him, as I feel his hardness stab against my pelvis.

With the adrenaline shooting through my system and my sight stripped from me, my sense of smell becomes acute. He smells of grass and the hydrangea bushes outside the house. He must have crawled through them. He smells faintly of soap, as if he had showered before coming here. His clothes smell as though they have just been laundered. This is someone methodical. He's not deranged and filthy. That fact sends a chill down my back.

His warm breath forms a trail along my neck.

“I've waited for you,” he whispers. “You're so beautiful.”

I don't respond.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Don't move.”

The weight of his warm body lifts away and I am left cold and alone. I think he's left the room, but I'm not sure. He has an uncanny ability to make very little noise. I deliberate if I should book it. I can make it to the neighbors and they can call the police.

But I am paralyzed with indecision. Unsure of what will lead to survival and what would ultimately cause more trouble. Finally, I decide to try to make a run for it. Even blindfolded, I can feel my way out of the house if he's distracted. I have to try. I roll to my side and get myself upright.

I keep my legs on the edge of the bed to guide myself towards the door. Then I start to run.

Smack. I take about four steps before I hit a firm body. I can smell him. I quiver in fear. Will he hurt me? Will he hurt Johnny for my disobedience? I almost drop to the floor in terror.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he again handles me like a doll, and rests on top of me.

“I gave Carter a choice. I told him ten haymakers to the face, or I fuck you. Guess what he said?”

“He wouldn't.” Carter would never let another man have me.

“He did,” the menacing figure whispers in my ear. “But you have a choice too. You can veto him. I can go to the other room and punch him as hard as I can in the face fifteen times, or I can fuck you. You're going to be a nurse Vesper; you know his face will be destroyed. He'll never be the same. That is if he survives.”

How does he know things about me?

“Make the choice,” he snaps, not giving me much time to give attention to the fleeting thought.

I imagine Carter, helplessly blindfolded on his knees. Unable to see the punches coming. Unable to brace. Spit and blood splattering on my bed and walls. His nose ending up on the side of his face. His eye sockets being crushed. I can do this. I can take the pain for both of us.

I don't want to believe he sent the man back here to rape me. And in my heart, I don't. But if he did, I don't blame him. At least my scars will be on the inside.

“Don't hurt him,” I beg. “You…you can…”

“I can what?”

“Do it.”

“Say it. Say it exactly how I said it.”

“F—fuck me.”

He breathes heavily, the warmth of it fanning across my chest. “You did the right thing, Vesper.”

He knows me. Is this someone I trust? Someone at the restaurant or school?

His gloved fingers run along my lips. “I'm gonna come inside of you. You make me so hard, Vesper.” The desire makes it hard for him to hide his natural voice, which is even raspier than the disguised one.

His lips trace along my neck. It tickles. It feels good. My mind zig zags in confusion. I don't want this, but my nerve endings don't know how to translate his touch. I hear him shuffle, and then when his hands are on me again, the cold leather is gone and I am met with warm fingertips.