Unholy

Chapter 19

Tristan

I pace the fucking floor with the unloaded gun in my hand, pressing it against my temple. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing right now as Ash sits in the chair, curled into herself, watching me. She doesn’t know it’s not a loaded weapon anymore. It was at the house, and I regret not pulling the fucking trigger and taking her dad out.

I’m rambling to myself about what the fuck I’m going to do now because if he’s willing to do that to Ash, why wouldn’t he be doing it to my mom?

“I should have just done it. I should have shot him,” I repeat for probably the fifth time in a row now.

“No, you shouldn’t. I wouldn’t have anyone then,” Ash adds to my thoughts.

“You don’t need me, Ash. What the fuck?” I ask her.

“You don’t think so? Then what am I doing here?” she yells at me.

“You’re here because I want you here!”

“And you don’t care what I want? Right? You only care about what you want,” she yells at me.

“It’s not that you and know it.”

“Then what is it?”

“Ash, how? How can you want someone like me? Huh?”

“How could I not is the better question.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I tell her.

“Tristan, don’t you get it? I love you.” Now I laugh. There’s no fucking way she loves me. No one can love me. Not even I can love me.

“Don’t laugh!” She yells as she climbs out of the chair and storms toward me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ash this mad and I think I might like it.

“Why not?”

“I just told you I loved you. That’s not something you laugh at, Tristan!”

“You can’t love me, Ash. No one can.”

“You’re wrong because I do. And you can take it and warp it in any way your mind wants you to, but that doesn’t change the facts,” she tells me.

“What are the facts, Ash?”

“That I love you. You have given me something I never knew I wanted. You’ve set me free, Tristan. Don’t you see that?”

“You know what I see? I see a little girl who lets her dad hit her because she still doesn’t know who she is. You’re standing in front of me now, lying to me.”

“I’m not. Not about this.” I toss the gun onto the couch and stomp toward her, gripping her face so hard it’ll probably leave marks, but I don’t care.

“You let him hurt you, Ash. That’s something I said never to let happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“It already has!”

“It won’t again.”

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were the one. I thought fuck, there’s the girl I’ve always wanted and couldn’t have. Then I saw what you let him do to you, and I thought, why? She’s so much more than this, why?”

“What are you doing, Tristan?”

“You’re never leaving me, Ash. Doesn’t matter how fucked up I am. Doesn’t matter if I hate you right now for letting him do that to you. Doesn’t matter if my fucked up brain tells me to hurt you worse than him. You’re never leaving!” I roar in her face. She flinches and tries to pull back, but I don’t let her. I walk her over to the bed and pull my hand from her face, tossing her body onto the bed. Then I climb up quickly, grab the rope, and secure it around her wrist and the headboard.

“What are you doing?” she asks as tears stream down her cheeks.

“I just told you.”

“You don’t have to do this, Tristan. I don’t want to leave.”

“We’ll see how you feel in a few days,” I tell her, making sure the rope is tight enough that she can’t get it undone.

“Tristan, please.”

“Don’t please me like I give a shit, Ash. Please means shit to me, and you know it.”

“Don’t do this. You don’t have to.”

“Oh, I have to.” My mind is a buzzing mess right now. There’s so much running wild that I don’t know how to calm it and make it stop aside from the fucking medicine, and I don’t plan on taking that.

I walk over and sit on the chair, resting my head in my hands and tugging at my hair. This has to stop, right? My mind has to slow down at some point. It can’t keep going like this. Can it? I’ve never felt like this before. This is new, and I fucking hate it.

I sit, listening to her pleas as I tug at my hair until I feel like I’m going to rip it right out of my scalp.

“Shut up, Ash! Just shut up!” I scream at her. This isn’t her fault, not really it isn’t. It’s mine. It’s my fucked up head that’s the problem right now. Maybe I need to call the Doc? No, fuck him. He’ll just want to shock me or some shit again, and that shit didn’t work last time.

I close my eyes now that Ash has shut up. I’m about to break down. I’m searching for a way out of my head. I’m falling apart, and I can’t stop it. What the hell can I do?

“I love you,” I hear Ash say once more. I cringe at her words. She loves me. Maybe she does, but I can’t see how. I’m not loveable. I’ve done things to her, things that would send her straight to hell, and that’s where I want her, in my hell.

I look up at her, staring at me. I stand from the chair and walk over, grabbing her shoes and pulling them off. Then I move to her jeans next to pull them off with her panties.

“Spread your legs,” I order her softly. She does as I say, and that makes me smile. She knows how to listen like a good girl, doesn’t she?

I scoot between her legs and slap my hand on her pussy.

“Tristan!”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.” Another slap and I watch her body tense.

“Good. I want to hurt you, Ash.”

“Why?”

“To make you feel good. To make me feel better.”

“Do what you need to do, Tristan,” she tells me. I hop off the bed and dig through the drawer, finding the candles and a lighter. I light them, set them on the table, and then turn back to Ash. I rip open the front of her shirt and then grab my knife, cutting her bra off. She watches me, her breathing becoming faster by the second.

When she’s exposed to me, I lean down and bite her nipple hard enough to draw blood. Ash whimpers, and when I look up, I see the tears in her eyes she’s trying not to let fall.

Then I reach for the candle and bring it over her chest. Tipping it sideways, I let the hot wax fall onto her flesh and watch her lips part.

“Tristan,” she cries my name, and fuck, it sounds so right.

“It’s okay, Ash.” I keep going, pouring hot wax over parts of her body and watching it set on her skin. But when it’s not enough, I set it back on the table and spread her legs, pushing my jeans and boxers down and grabbing my cock.

“You love me, Ash?” I ask her before slapping her pussy with my cock. She gasps, and I do it again and again. “Tell me.”

“Yes!” she squeals as I keep slapping her. Then I shove into her and fuck her hard. I need this. I need her. What the hell is wrong with me?