Moth to a Flame

27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Regan

Air doesn’t flow into my lungs. My throat seizes.

You’re strong. You’re strong. You’re strong.

Help me find you, Regan.

I bite the inside of my cheek, summoning the strength Landon kept talking about.

It’s there. I have it.

“Bitch.” One boot, then the other stomp against the floor of the van. There’s something in his grip. Something metallic that glints in the dark. “Oh, you poor girl, teasing me like that. I see you’ve missed me. You need your daddy.”

“You’re not my daddy,” I snarl.

“Yes, I am.” He goes to grab his junk.

Just as fast, he drops his hand to the side, snarling. He’s only had, what, two weeks to get used to his dickless life? Serves him right.

A part of me gloats.

The other part, the fifteen-year-old me, flinches. Can’t help it. My feet push me back deeper into the van. My hands fly to my breasts.

My fist. I have my torn T-shirt in it. I have to throw it out.

That’s what matters.

Fear can go fuck itself.

Now that Lester’s opened the doors for me, I have to toss out the fabric and get him to leave me the hell alone.

“I’m your everything.” An undercurrent of anger slithers into his voice. “I’ll be your everything until I get to my hiding place. Then I’ll kill you.”

Begging him to leave will only encourage him to come at me. I’ve done it too many times over that awful night to know he gets off on my fear.

Antagonizing him…That might turn him off.

“You are nothing to me.” I sit up on my knees, resisting the shivers that are right there, below the surface. “Less than nothing. Missed you? Fuck no. I’ve missed the takeout that gave me food poisoning last year more than I’ll ever miss you.”

“One way to find out.” He drops the thing in his hold. It clanks as it lands on the van’s floor.

Pliers.

He’s brought pliers here.

I don’t panic. Will not.

He won’t shove them inside me. I’ll kill him before he gets near any of my holes ever again.

I hug my stomach, shielding myself from him. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“What’s the matter?” His hands are on his hips. “Afraid I’ll find out how wet you are for Daddy Lester?”

The old green pants he’s wearing are crumpled. So is his dress shirt. The sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows in a messy sort of way, scrunching the material even more.

Weird how I’ve missed that detail.

I’d forgotten they were ugly and cheap, the clothes he wore the last time I saw him.

Truth is, I don’t remember much of the trial at all.

The traumatizing experience was too much for me. I remember showing up, giving my testimony, throwing up in the bathroom. That’s basically it.

“You’re delusional.”

He kicks the pliers to the corner. I have to make him leave before he uses them on me. Every second he’s here means another second he could hurt me. He won’t indulge me in this banter forever.

“And you’re a fucking liar.”

“Leave me alone.” I drop to my ass, kicking him in the shins. “What are you even doing? Waiting for Landon to come fuck you up?”

His laughter is the most repulsive sound I’ve ever heard. High-pitched and choked. He’s snorting on top of everything else. Like a hyena, only worse.

The air in the back of the van shifts. Lester lowers to his knees slowly while he grunts and curses. Like he said, his surgery hasn’t healed completely. Despite the fear that clutches at my chest—despite the growing concern of watching him go for the pliers, then to me—I take note of that pain.

When the time is right, I’ll use it to my advantage.

“First things first.”

While his crotch might be hurting, the rest of his body is, sadly, fine. He grabs my ankles, pulling me to him.

“Let me go!” I kick and scream.

The fucker is determined. He reaches into his pants pocket and comes up with a zip tie.

“Had to move fast after they released me,” he grunts as he easily wraps them around my ankles. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I punch the top of his head, he won’t stop. “The van I rented had one of these and the pliers. You might try to run with your hands tied. This is a guarantee you won’t.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, still kicking and throwing punches at him with my ankles bound. I hit him in the chest, making him growl. His face is a picture of pain. “You can’t do this to me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He lifts his gaze to mine. Ugly and hateful. He twists away from me again when I kick him. “I can do so much worse.”

Without blinking, he hauls me to him until I’m lying down. Prowls up my body. Puts his hands on the waistband of my leggings.

Memories of that other night flash before me. How he ripped off my panties. Spread my legs. Hiked up my ass and punched my pussy.

I cried and cried and cried while he laughed.

“Don’t touch me,” I mumble.

The piece of my T-shirt I had is gone. I’ll take care of it later.

Right now, the imminent threat is him. I strike Lester, scratching him with my nails. Drawing more blood from his already wounded forearms. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Not so brave now, are we?” As soon as he starts shoving my leggings down my thighs, I punch him harder, reaching for his eyes. “Bitch! Bitch!”

His anger invigorates me. A tiny bit. I keep going. Hurting him. Insulting him. “I have a boyfriend. You’re not him.”

Of course, he keeps pushing my leggings down. He gets nowhere, because I won’t stop attacking him.

He’s weak. Hasn’t slept, probably.

I’ll push him off me. I will.

I thrash my body, slapping him over the face. Five strikes. That’s what I manage.

That’s how long it takes for him to give up.

“Cunt,” he talks to himself, shaking his head furiously. “Gotta get to the cabin. I’ll rest there. I don’t have time for this here. What the fuck. Motherfucking fuck.”

Information. I have to milk it while I can. I’ll use it somehow later, I’m sure of it. “What cabin?”

“None of your business.”

I grimace when he barks at me. I scream when he reaches for the pliers.

“I’ll fight you all night. I’ll take your eyes out while you’re down there, motherfucker.” Thinking about him touching me for another second has bile creeping up my throat. “You’ll be a sitting duck. Landon will find you.”

“Fucking bitch. You’re lucky I believe you.” Brown eyes bore into me. I want him out. Get out! “You’ll pay for it later.”

Panic. It rises and damn near swallows me whole as Lester pushes me by the collarbone to the floor. “Pay for what?”

He straddles me, wrapping one hand around my wrists.

“For that time you raped me?” Desperately, I fling my head up, hoping to bash my forehead against his. He lifts his at the last minute and laughs at me. “For the night you abused and sodomized me? If anyone has to pay, it’s you.”

“Wrong. It’s you. For being such a smartass bitch.” He pins my wrists over my head.

Those rotten apples. I smell them as he leans over me, so close that his oversized, crumpled shirt brushes my nose and mouth. The smell has haunted me for the past decade. It has to go away. I need it to go away.

“For sending someone to chop my dick off.” His weight shifts and no . No, no, no.

The pliers are on my index finger. Beneath the nail.

“Stop. Stop.” I wriggle. I scream. I try to bend my knees.

I fail. He’s too heavy.

If he had his cock still, if he didn’t need his two hands to sodomize me, he would’ve raped me by now. No question about it.

“Stop it!”

“You should’ve thought about it sooner.”

Pain splinters my body in half as Lester bends my fingernail, then plucks it out. I feel blood dampening my finger. Tears wetting my cheeks.

I’m doing my best not to scream, not to let him enjoy this. I bite the inside of my cheek. Go deep somewhere else in my head.

Landon kissing me. Landon hugging me. Landon’s lips as he tells me everything will be okay.

That helps with holding back the screams. The tears, though, I can’t do anything about those.

Lester pulls back to watch me suffer. To grin and wave my bloodied fingernail at me.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him Landon will kill him for this. That he’ll stretch out his torture over decades for doing this to me.

The words never come out. They never will.

My survival instincts kick in and I know what I have to do.

My nail. That’ll be my breadcrumb. Has to be.

Counting on Landon to find it is a long shot. The chances of the stars aligning in my favor are slim to none.

And yet.

And. Yet.

Landon might track down Lester’s van from the CCTV cameras we have at home. He could drive through this road. His headlights might shine a light on my discarded nail.

It’s totally possible.

Hope.

I can’t let it show on my face, or Lester will suspect I’m up to something.

So I snap my mouth shut, staring at him with a look I hope he reads as pitiful.

“I’ll stop again soon. Maybe pull out another nail. Maybe hold it out for tomorrow. You’ll never see me coming, and it’ll kill you on the inside.”

Leaning in, he kisses my closed mouth, licking my jaw, then my cheek. He doesn’t miss a spot, that fucker, spitting on my eyelids too.

I’m going to be sick.

Eventually, he stands up, taking his damned pliers with him. Kicking me in the ribs before he leaves.

I’ve been through worse.

I’ve been through so much worse.

Stupid, conceited Lester descends from the van to the road, flinging my fingernail behind his back before slamming the doors in my face.

“Got you, fucker,” I whisper. “I fucking got you.”