Rage

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Tara

4 Years Ago (17 Years Old)

“ D o you like what you see, Tara?”

Dr. Halloway’s deep, ominous voice echoed in my mind as I sat in the same armchair I’ve been sitting in since I was eleven years old. I was staring at a spot on the carpet of his office, lost in thought.

“Tara?” Dr. Halloway asked, drawing my attention back to him. Shifting in my seat, I crossed my arms over my chest, reciprocating eye contact.

“What now? Everything is fine, just swell. Like always.” My voice was sharp, harsh.

“We need to discuss your transition, my dear. Since tomorrow is your eighteenth birthday, you will no longer be with the Haven House.”

A tightness built in my chest again; the familiar feeling of my urges surfacing… My urge to feel the warm, silky smooth sensation of blood on my hands. The urge to see the life leave someone’s eyes as I steal their last breath…

“I’m fine, Timothy ,” I spat, staring daggers at him.

The image of him spread out on a four-post bed like the image he’s shown me every time I’ve been in his office… I wanted that to be Timothy Halloway tied to that bed with his neck sliced wide open by my knife…

“We’ve discussed this callousness in your attitude, Miss Hollis.”

“We’ve discussed how I don’t give a shit about your little psychopath test, Timothy.”

Dr. Halloway stood from his chair, tossing his portfolio to the seat, and walked towards his desk. I watched him pull open a drawer and slam it closed, walking towards me.

“Don’t forget who holds the power here, Tara. Your pathetic attempts at manipulation and dominance are useless here.”

Dr. Halloway grabbed my wrist, and forced me to grip the handle of my paring knife I stole from Megan, my previous foster mother. At age eleven, having killed a bird with it, he took the knife from me when I was forced to see him.

Feeling the smooth, wood handle in my hands sent a wave of calm over me. My vision became more clear, my breathing more even, my urges jumped to the forefront of my mind. All I could do was stare at the blade, tilting my head slightly, imagining the memories I have made using this knife to kill.

The power he had over me was frustrating.

The social worker forces me to have sessions with him twice a week, and each session he pokes and prods, studying me. “Studying your perfect mind.” He calls it.

I’m not stupid. I know what he’s doing.

Once I turned sixteen, he began showing me more intense crime scene images and videos. People murdered in various ways, people having sex in unconventional ways, purposefully triggering my urges so I’d kill who he wanted without the blame being on him.

I couldn’t fight it and he knew it.

I’ve always been different, void of any emotion. I never understood why movies made people laugh, why funerals made people cry, why a man cheating on his wife makes her angry. My brain can’t comprehend these emotions, and it’s led to being stuck in the foster care system. No families could handle me; apparently my birth parents couldn’t handle me either.

At least that’s what Dr. Halloway and Gemma, the social worker, say.

“What do you feel, Tara?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“I said, what do you feel , Tara?” he pressed.

Gripping the knife handle tighter in my hand, I closed my eyes, taking a deep, grounding breath.

“I feel...ready, Doctor.”

“Good girl, Tara.” He gripped my cheeks harshly with one hand, forcing my mouth open, and placed a small, white tablet on my tongue. “Swallow for me. You’ll be even more ready soon.”

Sitting on my bed at the Haven House, I picked at my cuticles, looking at the digital clock on the nightstand next to my bed. It was six in the evening, and I was one sleep away from being forced out of the group home.

My session with Dr. Halloway had me on edge. He’s pressed and pressed, trying to get my urges to manifest, and I was struggling to keep them at bay. I was still feeling strange from that pill he forced down my throat.

At least I got my knife back… I thought, stroking the handle with my thumb absentmindedly, proud of myself for swiping it off his desk as I left.

Funny thing about the foster care system; once you turn eighteen, you’re no longer the state’s problem. They show you the door and wish you good luck in life that they don’t do shit to help you prepare for. But I wasn’t letting that bitch of a social worker kick me out; I’m leaving on my own terms.

I could hear all the children playing outside on the playground, so it was the perfect time to leave. Standing off the bed with purpose, I reached underneath the bed frame and grabbed my duffel bag. I’ve never had much here, but I neatly folded my four outfits I owned, and placed my toiletries in a plastic bag on top of my clothes. I tucked my knife away safely in between two pairs of jeans and patted the stack of clothes, making mental notes of where it would be.

I was expecting to be on the streets for a while, so I took my duffel bag to the kitchen. Shuffling through the pantry, I grabbed as many lightweight non-perishables as I could find and shoved them into my bag.

This will have to do for now. I have plans tonight…

Before leaving, I snuck into Gemma’s office and picked the lock of her drawer. She keeps her emergency cash in here, and it was mine now.

Once satisfied with the contents of my bag, I pulled up my long, black hair into a ponytail and began humming Für Elise as I slipped silently out the front door.

It was only about a ten-minute walk to Dr. Halloway’s house, and he should be home from the office in about twenty minutes. As I turned the corner out of the neighborhood, I reminisced about a previous session with Dr. Halloway last week.

“So, tell me, Tara, how does this make you feel when you see it?” Dr. Halloway asked, showing me an image of a woman sobbing over a flag covered coffin of a loved one.

“I guess she’s upset? Some dude must have died in war, I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, let me ask you this, then. How did you feel when you took Megan’s car without asking to go on that joy ride?”

“If she didn’t want me using her car, she shouldn’t have left her keys out,” I yawned.

“Did you have a plan to take the car? Or was it just an urge? Impulse?”

“She left the keys. I took the keys. I drove the car. It’s not that hard to understand,” I spat, crossing my arms. Dr. Halloway scribbled away in his notes and I felt the tightening in my chest start again.

“I see…”

Forcing the memory out of my mind, I turned down the corner of his block into a pleasant neighborhood. It wasn’t upper class, but a comfortable middle. The homes had neat, manicured lawns, and children out playing in the front yards.

Dr. Halloway’s home was about halfway down the block. His BMW SUV sat in the driveway, and lights shone inside. Without hesitation, I hummed my Für Elise tune in my mind and knocked on the door.

“Tara? What’s going on?” Dr. Halloway asked as he opened the door, his tie untied, and hanging from his neck.

“Can I crash on your couch until tomorrow morning? I’ll be taking the train out of town, and they won’t let me buy a ticket until I’m eighteen, which happens tomorrow,” I asked, gauging his mood and energy.

“You should be at the Haven House and…”

“Well, I’m obviously not. Please, just for one night. I’ll be gone before you wake up.” I watched his eyes subtly scan my chest, and I sighed deeply, allowing my breasts to rise and fall, watching him suck in a sharp breath.

“This is completely unethical. You’re my patient and…”

“It’s fine. I’ll find somewhere else to go, Timothy,” I interrupted, turning to walk away.

“Tara, wait. Fine, just come inside.” Dr. Halloway stepped aside, allowing me entry into the living room.

It wasn’t what I was expecting. It was neat, homey. There was a dark, blue-grey suede couch and matching loveseat surrounding a mahogany coffee table, with tall silver lamps and a flat screen television on the wall above his fireplace. A simple dark brown rug was on the floor underneath the coffee table, and there was a single glass of what I assumed was whiskey on the tabletop.

Picture frames of his achievements and diplomas were on the opposite wall, along with photographs of his family and artwork from his younger patients. A bookshelf full of medical books and vinyl records was on the wall next to the fireplace, and a vintage record player sat neatly tucked away on a rolling cart next to it.

“Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab some blankets out of the closet for you. Either of these couches are free for you to use. The remote for the television is on the mantle,” he said, finally peeling his eyes off of my chest, and turned to walk down the hall.

I dropped my duffel bag on the floor next to the loveseat and plopped myself down onto the cushions. My eyes found his vacant glass on the coffee table, so when I heard his footsteps returning, I sat up and downed it as he returned to the room.

“Tara!” he said, surprised, swiping the now empty glass out of my hand.

“What? It was there,” I said with a shrug.

Trying to remember how that assistant in his office acted with Adam, I mimicked what she did when she was giving him looks. I looked Dr. Halloway up and down, forcing a smirk to pull up the corner of my lips. He swallowed hard, visibly affected, and collected himself before speaking.

“Help yourself to anything in the refrigerator. I’ll be in my bedroom for the evening; the last door at the end of the hall. Knock if you need anything.” He pivoted around without hesitation and walked down the hall, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Standing up from the loveseat, I reached behind me to unsnap and remove my bra to get comfortable, and get ready for what was to come with dear Dr. Halloway. I lifted my duffle bag, placing it on the loveseat, and shuffled through it, looking for my sleep shirt. It was nothing fancy, just an oversized man’s undershirt that fit me like a dress, but perfect for my plans. I peeled off my skinny jeans, laying them out neatly on the cushions. Reaching up, I release my hair from my ponytail, letting my black waves fall haphazardly around my face. Shaking out my hair, I smirked as my eyes found my knife in my bag.

Finally…

Gripping the handle, I held it up to eye level, studying the blade on it. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the mental image of the sharp metal slicing through the skin of his neck. My “pre-kill calm” I liked to call it, washed over me, and I wandered towards Dr. Halloway’s bedroom door. Taking care to keep my knife hidden behind my back, I didn’t bother knocking, and just walked right in, wearing just my shirt and black lace thong.

“Tara? Are you alright?” Dr. Halloway placed a newly filled whiskey glass down on his nightstand and looked over the book he was reading in his queen size bed. He was shirtless, wearing only pajama pants, relaxing on top of the comforter, and leaning against the headboard.

“Just looking for the bathroom. Wrong room,” I replied, looking around the room.

“It’s two doors down on the right and–” He stopped mid sentence as I sauntered up to the foot of his four post bed.

“How does it make you feel, Tara?”

Images of the crime scene photo he always shows me flashed in my mind; the man tied to the bed, the slice in his neck…

“What are you doing? Tara?”

Ignoring him, I climbed onto the foot of his bed, subtly tucking my knife away underneath a blanket draped across the foot of the bed. On all fours, I crawled my way up towards him, in between his legs.

His legs stiffened as I reached his waist, and his confused eyes met mine. Reaching up, I took the book from his hands and tossed it to the floor.

“You’re the doctor, Timothy; you tell me.”

Crawling towards him made my shirt ride up, revealing my ass in my lace thong. His hands twitched, and I knew he was desperate to touch.

“Tara, this is just–”

“Shh…” I cooed, adjusting my knees to rest outside his hips to straddle him. Reaching above his head, I tossed all the pillows to the floor, so he was laying flat on his back. I hovered over his lap, not lowering myself yet, watching his eyes darken with lust, my hands resting on his bare shoulders.

“How does it feel, Doctor?” I taunted, lowering myself to sit on his lap, rocking my hips, feeling his cock stiffen underneath me. Gently digging my nails into his skin, I dragged them towards me, earning the softest groan from him.

“Tara…”

“Mmm, there it is,” I smirked, feeling his now hard cock under me.

“Fuck, Tara… We can’t… We can’t do this…” He groaned as I started to grind on his cock, his length sliding perfectly along my pussy over my thong.

“I’ve imagined this every day, Doctor, just like the photo you showed me,” I whimpered as his hands slid up my bare thighs, to my ass.

He gripped the flesh of my ass in both hands, guiding my movements.

Finally, I felt something. Arousal.

Before he could continue, I climbed off of him, walking to the sliding door of his closet. Pushing it open, I shuffled around his dress clothes.

“Tara? What are you doing?” he asked, confused.

Perfect.

Reaching for a tie hanger, I pulled out a handful of his neckties, turning back to the bed. His eyes darkened when he saw the bundle of ties in my hand.

“I knew you loved that photo, Tara,” he groaned. I forced what I thought was a sultry smile and began tying one of his wrists to a post of his bed.

“Oh, I loved it alright.”

Making my way around his bed, I tied him to each of the posts of his bed. Climbing back on top of him, I pulled my shirt over my head, revealing my pierced nipples. He focused his eyes on them and bit his lower lip.

“See something you like, Doctor?” I asked, resuming my grinding on his cock. “Too bad you can’t touch,” I teased, gripping my breasts, tossing my head back.

“Fuck, Tara…”

Lifting off of him again, I slid my way between his legs, pulling down the waistband of his pajama pants just enough to allow his dick to spring free. He was already leaking pre-cum, and I gripped his cock tight in my hand. Leaning forward, I dragged my tongue up the underside slowly, sucking his tip hard into my mouth. The salty taste of his pre-cum hit my tongue, and I forced myself not to gag in disgust. But I needed to get off, and I’d make sure I did.

Shifting my knees to straddle him again, I pulled my thong to the side, and rocked my hips on his cock again, allowing him to slide along my slit, coating him in my arousal.

“Mmm, Doctor…” I groaned, lifting my hips and positioning his tip at my entrance.

“Fuck, yes, Tara. Take my cock, use me…” he groaned as I lowered myself onto him. Propping my hands up on his chest, I bounced my ass on his lap, chasing my pleasure.

“How does it make you feel, Doctor?” I moaned, sitting up tall, grinding my clit on his pubic bone.

“So fucking good, baby. So fucking good.”

“Feel how tight this pussy is for you, Doctor? How wet it is? All for you…” I whimpered, my climax quickly approaching.

Arching my back, I propped myself up on his knees, and continued bouncing on him, his cock getting so deep, hitting the perfect spot.

“Look at your cock inside me, Doctor. I want this to be the last thing you see.” Reaching my hand back underneath the blanket, I gripped the handle of my knife.

“What….? Oh fuck, don’t stop baby. Don’t fucking stop. I’m going to cum so hard in this tight little pussy…” He groaned, closing his eyes.

Sitting up tall, I slammed my hips into his, my orgasm nearing its peak. I leaned myself forward over his body, dragging the tip of my paring knife gently down his cheek. His pathetic shivering and whimpering in fear made me smirk, and the once playful, aroused look in his eyes shifted to fear.

“Oh, come now, Doctor. You’re not scared of me, are you?” I taunted.

Grinding my hips into his, he closed his eyes once again in pleasure. I rode him hard and fast, and the moment his eyes opened again to meet mine, I sliced his neck open with my knife.

“You better make me cum before you bleed out,” I purred, grinding harder on him as he gargled and choked on his own blood.

His eyes rolled back as he exhaled for the last time, sending me over the edge, my orgasm ravaging my body, giving me the few seconds of emotion I’d been craving for so long.

I cried out in ecstasy as I kept riding him, drawing out my orgasm, until my legs buckled and shook.

“Mmm, thank you, Doctor,” I sighed. “Oh, and what was that from your little psychopath test? ‘A core trait being impulsivity and risk-taking with no regard or consideration for consequences of my actions?’ Trust me, Doctor. I know the consequences of my actions…”

Climbing off of him, I cleaned myself up, humming Für Elise as I got dressed and untied him from the bed.

Sated and satisfied, I lit a fire in his bathroom and bedroom, letting the trail of flames follow me to the living room. Draping my duffel bag across my chest, I casually walked out the door, closing it gently behind me, walking into the night.