Moth to a Flame

26. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Regan

Rotten apples.

The pungent smell is strong. Where’s it coming from?

No idea. The trail is empty. Not a single person hides in the bushes. No one’s jumping out of nowhere with a knife and a baton.

I’m the only person in Central Park.

The light coming from the lampposts is enough for me to see that.

But maybe he’s behind me.

Bravely, I spin on my heel and look for the source of the smell. I squint my eyes in search of a shadow, a figure. Something.

I won’t be fucked with.

The twenty-five-year-old me is stronger. I won’t allow for that to happen.

I’m not fifteen anymore. I’m also hyperaware that this is a dream. Another nightmare out of many.

And I’m stuck here, no matter how many times I will myself to wake up.

My limbs are heavy. My heart beats in a strange kind of cadence that’s reserved for those hours at night when my eyes are closed and terror strikes.

This isn’t real life . Nightmare. Nightmare. It’s a nightmare.

As I stand there alone with the scent of rotten apples around me, the memories of the day—of my real life—drift into my consciousness.

I waited for Landon to come back. I tried to stay awake, I really did. Ran from one side of the house to the other. Drowned myself in coffee. Chocolate, that helped me stay awake for a while there.

I went so far as to pinch and slap myself.

The pain didn’t keep me up. Nothing did.

After an entire day of losing my mind, freaking the fuck out, and praying my Landon will come back to me in one piece, I was drained.

So here I am. Stuck in this purgatory.

But I’m not afraid. Terror doesn’t clutch my lungs.

Despite being unable to move much, my blood runs hot in my veins. My hands are balled into fists. My lips twist into a snarl.

Landon’s not here. He’s inside me. A part of me.

Over the last few weeks, he’s crawled under my skin and I don’t just trust him. I’ve taken on some of his traits. The rage, the short temper.

The unhinged side of him that doesn’t cower from anything or anyone.

My teeth are bare. I’m ready to fight the sluggish feeling.

Ready to fight him .

“I’ll kill you, you fuck.” This isn’t the moment to be sweet and thoughtful.

Lester is here.

Fucking with me.

I won’t be fucked with.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Poison laces into my voice.

One foot after the other, I release myself from the shackles of my nightmare. I prowl forward, venturing into the bushes.

Once, I was dragged to that area. Raped there. Sodomized there.

Now I’m the one on the prowl.

“Are we playing a game? Is that it?”

My fingers brush along the leaves of the bushes. The grass bends beneath my sneakers.

“We can play. Sure, we can. My game.” I peek behind a thick tree bark. Empty. “One where I’m the one sodomizing you. You could take it, right?”

Darkness envelops me. The rotten apple scent intensifies.

“If I, a little fifteen-year-old girl, could take it, then—”

There’s movement up ahead. It’s not Lester. It’s a squirrel running down a tree.

“You could too. Take it like a champ.”

The smell of rotten apples reaches down my throat. I’m sickened by it. I taste it on my tongue. It’s hard not to gag. Not to lose the edge I have over him.

“Landon will kill you,” I whisper. “No. Landon will fuck you up so bad that you’ll beg him to kill you. You were nothing and you’ll stay nothing.”

“Not so sure about that.”

My eyes fly open.

I’m right where I fell asleep, on my side. In my bedroom. The windows are the same ones as always. Moonlight shines from them. The ocean is right outside.

But this isn’t Landon clamping a hand over my mouth. Isn’t him standing behind me, dragging me out of our bed.

Landon doesn’t smell of rotten apples. His voice doesn’t come off as hateful. His palm isn’t as coarse, and his fingers aren’t short and slimy.

Wrong. All wrong.

“If I were nothing…”

Before screaming, before kicking, my instincts demand one thing. One thing alone.

Jigsaw.

“You wouldn’t have dreamed about me.” I’m at the edge of the bed, sinking my feet into the mattress. He can’t take me. He can’t. “Wouldn’t have talked about me in your sleep.”

Somehow, Lester found me. Somehow, he broke into our home while Landon was out searching for him.

Doesn’t matter. I don’t care about how he got past the gates or past the private beach.

He’s in the house. In our bedroom.

There’s no one here to protect me but myself.

Those are the important things I have to focus on.

And getting to Jigsaw.

It won’t be long before Landon is back here. He’s out there, stalking the fucker’s home.

He’s smart, my future husband. He’ll figure out that Lester should’ve been home by now.

That he came for me.

I trust Landon to be here soon.

But I can’t afford to wait for him.

Jigsaw. My gun is in the first drawer of the bedside table.

Out of my reach.

Foolish. It was so foolish of me to feel safe here.

Shut up, Regan. This is Landon inside my head, thundering and frightening as Lester pulls and pulls and pulls me toward him. Shut up. None of this is your fault. You’re strong. You’re strong. You’re strong. Fight him.

His faith in me snaps me out of my wallowing. Frantically, I kick the space behind me, feeling the contact with Lester’s thigh. His stomach.

“Bitch.”

Clawing at his forearms that wrap around my stomach, I draw blood.

“You fucking cunt.”

I am. I’m the cunt who’s going to kill you.

When I start screaming into his palm, he hauls me off the bed for good. I’m on my feet, pinned to his front. His belly presses to my back. His legs to mine.

His dick is nowhere to be found.

Landon took care of that for me. A maniacal laughter bleeds into my screams. I should be scared. I should be terrified.

Nothing protects me against this monster other than my panties, leggings and Landon’s T-shirt. Nothing.

He won’t let me go. I won’t get to my gun.

I still laugh. And I don’t stop clawing at him.

“You got older,” he snarls as he drags me out of my bedroom. “An older, spoiled, psycho bitch. That’s what you are.”

His blood trickles on my fingertips, his grip on me tightening.

We’re in the hallway. The one Landon has carried me through when I dozed off in the den, watching him work. The one I ran across when he chased me into our bedroom.

Every square inch of the long hallway has love and passion embedded into it.

Instead of succumbing to fear, I draw strength from our memories.

“Your little stunt failed.”

Thump, thump, thump, Lester forces me down the stairwell. I make him work for it. Plant my feet wherever I can. Scratch and pinch and pull at the hair of his forearm.

Other than the random curse, he doesn’t budge.

“Telling your boyfriend to send someone from the inside to get to me. To have my cock chopped off.”

The main floor. It’s now or never if I’m going to save myself from being kidnapped. While I laugh like a crazy person and scream at the same time, I step on Lester’s foot. I give it everything.

Unfortunately, he’s wearing the leather boots he wore to court ten years ago. I’m barefoot and half his size.

Again. Again. Again.

“In fact, it backfired on your dumb ass.” We’re moving toward the front door. The open front door, I realize as the temperature drops the closer we get there.

Faintly, I remember Landon turning on the furnace when he saw me shivering last week. He said it was the first time he’d ever done it.

Landon. He said something else. He said we’d celebrate our first Halloween together soon. That I make him want things. Like decorating his home.

We even started planning it. We were supposed to invite everyone over.

That could end here. Our dreams. Our future.

My life.

The moment we’re out the door, it’s done. He’ll take me.

“The parole board felt so bad for the inmate with the severed dick.”

Again. I won’t stop fighting. Never.

“Hurts like a motherfucker,” the monster grunts. “Hasn’t fully healed yet. Then there’s this fucking hole right next to my ass. Sitting to pee. Fuck you.”

There’s a pause. Then spit, as rancid and gross as Lester is, hits my shoulder.

“Was worth it, though. The pain. Just so I could find you.”

I’m no longer laughing. I’m screaming.

Our neighbors aren’t within hearing distance. It doesn’t deter me. I scream to the inside of Lester’s palm anyway.

My lungs burn. My nostrils flare to suck in as much air as possible between one scream and the other.

“Your boyfriend fucked up. The guards that weren’t on his payroll were sour about it.”

He’s enjoying this, I hear it in his voice. He sounded just like that a million years ago when he raped me. Took deep pleasure in sodomizing me.

Bleed for me, little girl , he said. I’ll scar you. I’ll fuck you up.

I’m older now. Stronger. He can mock me all he likes. I won’t cower from him. Won’t cry for him. I won’t stop screaming and fighting for my life.

By fighting, I also mean listening to every word he says. I’ll collect and file away every piece of information this idiot so willingly hands over to me. It might be useful.

“It started with one stupid guard blabbering about Landon’s bribe.” Out of the house. We’re out of the house and down the front steps. I kick him, listen to him. Fear him. “The others didn’t take it lightly. They came to me, the jealous fucks, offering me his name, address, and the codes and keys to this place on a silver platter. No idea how they got it. Don’t really care.”

The asphalt of the driveway burns my feet as I flex them, as I dig my heels into it. Last attempt before I’m being taken.

I won’t be tortured again. I won’t be sodomized by this monster.

I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.

“The rest was me. Figured he’d go to the address I gave the authorities to finish what he’d started. That he’d be there while you stayed here. I was right.” We’re under a dark shadow. I twist my head as much as Lester allows. It’s a van. A white, nondescript van. “Dick or no dick, I have you. I won.”

It’s been minutes since Lester threw me in the back of the van and locked the doors on me. Or hours. Or something .

The sun hasn’t come up yet. That’s a good sign. That’s a great sign.

We couldn’t be that far from home. Landon could come looking for me. He’d have seen the wrenched-open front door. The messy sheets.

He’d speed out and find me.

He would.

My face is glued to the small, tinted window in the back of the van. Lester is driving past the houses in our neighborhood.

When he reaches the end of the street, he keeps driving toward a deserted path. I don’t recognize it. I have no idea where we’re headed.

I memorize it all the same.

More minutes pass. My rapist and now kidnapper doesn’t say a word. I haven’t attempted talking to him, either. My only focus has been on the road, so I can get back home when I outsmart him and break free.

What if it’s not a when ? What if it’s an if ?

Landon might not get home as fast as I hope. Wherever Lester is taking me could be so far away from here, and Landon won’t be able to reach us.

A chill runs down my spine. My stomach dips.

No. No. This isn’t the time to lose it.

Focus, Regan.

Tree after tree after tree.

What good would it do me anyway, watching them?

When Lester finally decides to take a restroom break, it could be too late. He could torture and kill me.

No, it’ll never be too late.

I have to remember that. To cling onto that. I could run through the woods. I could do something. I could always do something to save myself.

Hope and despair are two strong forces warring inside of me. They keep butting heads and I go from hopeful to terrified in a matter of seconds.

As if the two of them weren’t enough, fear joins the party.

He has boots on his feet. You’re barefoot. Shorter.

I’m at a huge disadvantage.

I could never escape on my own.

Unless…

I might not have to do it all by myself.

A dark Grimm Brothers fairytale comes to mind. Hansel and Gretel and their trail of breadcrumbs.

First, I have to figure out what I want to leave behind for Landon.

All I have on me are my clothes.

They’ll have to do.

I hook my fingers on the hem of my T-shirt, twist and manipulate the material. I give it my all and…

Keep trying, little lamb. I’ll be there soon. Tell me you know.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I whisper to him as I keep tugging at the T-shirt, doing my best not to cry.

“Who the hell are you talking to back there?”

Lester’s bark makes me flinch at the same time we hit a bump in the road. Both movements work in my favor and yes . Fucking yes. The shirt finally rips. From there, tearing out a small triangle is that much easier.

“I said, who!”

My body reacts to the shout by breaking into shivers.

I could put the past behind me. Move on with my life, smile and laugh, and have sex. Fall in love. Scream and fight this monster.

I could never forget what he did to me.

Doesn’t matter. Fight, little lamb. Fight him.

The torn piece of shirt is scrunched in my palm. I sit up straighter, gathering strength and courage.

This next step is going to hurt. It’s going to be risky.

I might die attempting to throw this shirt out of the van.

I would definitely die if I don’t.

“Your dead penis,” I blurt out. Not bitchy enough. He hasn’t pulled over yet and he has to. He has to be royally pissed at me and come back here and open the door so I could toss the piece of my shirt out. “I conjured the small, ugly fuck from hell, and guess what? The abomination you had between your legs told me that getting rid of you had been the best thing to ever happen to it.”

The tires of the van screech to a halt. The sound is deafening, especially since we’re alone here in the dead of night.

“You motherfucking bitch.”

The front door slams.

This is it. The monster from the park is coming. Stomping outside. Calling me bitch and cunt and threatening that I’ll pay for this.

Finally, I managed to get under his skin.

I won’t ever be ready to face him, but I have to.

It’s the only way.