7. Erica
The side of my neck itches.
Drowsy, I raise a hand to scratch the spot, but my arm doesn’t move.
My eyelids are leaden, too heavy to open.
The memories of last night are a blur, and trying to piece them together is like watching myself in slow-motion through milky, splintered glass.
Vague movements.
Heat in my veins.
Lust.
Terror.
Exhaustion.
Did I take the sleeping pills?
Did I end it all ?
Did I die ?
I try to raise my head, wiggle my toes or bend a single finger.
Nothing.
I’m a puppet with its strings cut.
Panic spikes in my chest.
My breathing turns shallow, too quick to fill my lungs, but that smell…
It’s impossible to miss.
I want to grimace, but not even the corners of my mouth move.
Such a sharp, chemical scent.
Bleach?
Or disinfectant?
Whatever it is, my motel room never smells like that.
My heart races.
Faster and faster.
Before I realize it, I’m hyperventilating.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
My senses returning to me, I notice that every beat of my pulse is announced by a shrill beep.
Wait, this isn’t the lumpy mattress of the uncomfortable motel bed.
This is worse.
Hard as stone against my back.
Or metal.
Goosebumps rush across my skin.
I’m cold, too.
So damn cold.
The effort of prying my eyes open feels like moving mountains.
When I finally manage it, white light blinds me.
Where the hell am I ?
“Aw, darlin’. Don’t be afraid,” a familiar, dark voice rings out.
“Did you think I was gonna let you go after one night? That’s cute.”
Everything comes rushing back like a full-frontal car crash.
Cain, the handsome stranger from the vending machine.
His crooked smirk that made me weak in the knees.
The best fucking sex of my life, just like he promised.
How he held me in the shower and washed me, carried me to bed.
And then, while I drifted off to sleep—
My breath hitches and my heart skips a beat so long, I worry it’s going to stop forever.
Maybe that would be better than recalling the pinch in my neck and everything going dark.
Now it makes sense.
That itchy spot…
I’ve been drugged.
Cain drugged me .
I want to call for help but my vocal cords won’t make a sound.
In the confines of my skull, I scream and scream and scream.
It’s no use.
I’m a mute prisoner in my paralyzed body.
The light swivels out of my face.
A shadow leans over me and crinkling green eyes look down into mine, hinting at a smile hidden behind a black surgical mask.
No longer blinded, my gaze snaps around the room.
White tiles on the walls.
No windows.
I can’t even see a door from this angle.
A sleek monitor stands by my feet, colorful lines spiking in time with my heartbeat and the beeping.
Medical tools glint on a metal cart by its side.
What the fuck?
Is this an operating theater?
As if my mind tried to shield me from the horrible reality for as long as possible, I suddenly realize I’m naked.
Something is stuck to my chest, likely the electrodes of the heart monitor.
Cain pulls down the surgical mask and grins.
It’s the same charming smile that made warmth pool low in my belly when we met, but now, it makes my blood curdle.
He wears black scrubs, and my position beneath him makes him seem even taller.
Monstrously so.
“I know you can hear me, little dove,” he says, honey in his voice.
“I need you alert for this.”
Alert for what?
The beeping of the pulse monitor gets faster and my chest is about to explode.
A morbid thought crosses my mind.
If this sicko isn’t going to hurry up and kill me, I might give myself a heart attack at this rate .
Cain shakes his head, curls bopping.
“Try to calm down. You’re wasting your energy. I want you awake, but I can’t have you squirming around. So I had to do something about that.”
Silent tears pearl across my face.
I don’t want to die like this.
I want it to be peaceful, quietly slipping away.
Falling asleep and never waking up again.
No anguish.
No fear.
Cain’s gloved palm presses against my cheek, black nitril sticking to my skin as he wipes away my tears.
He lifts his hand and licks them off with slow strokes of his tongue.
Heat flashes through me.
I remember the feeling of that tongue in my mouth.
His fingers in my pussy.
His cock stretching me until it hurt.
Him fucking me until I started to enjoy the pain.
No.
I don’t want to remember.
“You’re even lovelier when you cry, little dove.” He takes my right hand and steps closer to the table to push my limp fingers against his groin.
He’s hard .
“This is what your tears do to me, darlin’.”
Terror banishes all thoughts from my head.
I can’t stop crying.
Cain puts my arm back on the surgical table, tipping my head to the left.
He flicks an IV taped into the bend of my elbow and a tiny sting zaps through my nerves.
“Your pale skin and pretty blue veins are a doctor’s wet dream. This needle is your best friend right now because it delivers my special blend of drugs into your bloodstream. That way you stay nice and still but…”
He grazes the side of my breast, drawing inward circles.
When he reaches my nipple he runs his thumb over it, and a damning tingle sweeps low in my stomach.
Lower.
Lower.
Focus, Erica.
You are not enjoying this .
“But you can feel everything. Ain’t that right?” Cain asks.
I’m glad I can’t answer, can’t writhe and press my thighs together like I want to.
He smirks, smug as can be.
Locking eyes, he works my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Softly at first, then he pinches and pulls.
He does the same to the other one.
The pain feeds right between my thighs and my clit throbs.
Being entirely motionless amplifies the sensation of his touches like a magnifying glass highlighting every traitorous reaction of my body.
My frozen muscles scream with the urge to get away, out of his reach, but wetness gathers between my legs.
I pray he won’t notice.
Desperate, I tell myself that this perverted arousal is a coping mechanism.
I’m not really getting turned on from my kidnapper playing with my nipples.
“I’ll give you a chance because I like you, darlin’,” he says, caressing my face.
“And because you’re such a perfect lil fucktoy. Your cunt felt so good squeezing around my cock last night, you deserve a reward.”
I wish I could shout at him.
My blood simmers with too many emotions at once.
Shame and fear and rage and lust and—
He tips my head again, to the other side, and a suppressed frown twitches on my immovable forehead.
Why does he have a freezer box in an operating theater?
I remember a hospital documentary I watched during one of many sleepless nights right after I lost my job.
They showed similar boxes when the surgeons performed a kidney transplant.
My sluggish brain puts two and two together and a scream lodges in my throat.
This box is for my organs.
He’s going to gut me.
Cain holds a shiny scalpel above my face.
I flinch internally as he tilts it and a flash of my reflection in the blade catches me off guard.
My pallid skin.
Pale lips.
Red-rimmed eyes.
I look like I’m already dead.
Cain trails the flat side of the cold scalpel down the bridge of my nose, and a shiver courses through me.
“Don’t worry, I’m an experienced surgeon,” he says calmly.
“I’ve never lost a patient on the operating table. Well, not until I literally steal their heart.” He lets out a bubbly laugh like he told a harmless joke.
My chest swells with a sob I can’t let out.
He’s fucking insane.
I believe his story about being a surgeon, but that doesn’t make my situation any better.
It makes it worse.
How terrifying that someone sworn to help and heal people is such a depraved monster.
I can’t imagine how many patients trusted this devil with their lives.
How many has he fooled with that sweet smile and his relaxing voice?
“We’re gonna have a bit of fun, Miss Erica Dellinger from Kansas,” he says, his tone saturated with playful anticipation.
How does he know my name and where I’m from ?
Cain clicks his tongue like he can read my mind.
“I had a quick peek at your wallet while you were out, sleepyhead. Found your driver’s license. The whole anonymity thing you insisted on in the motel is too impersonal for something as intimate as this, don’t you think? And it’s a very pretty name. I like saying it. E-ri-ca.” He cocks his head, every letter melting on his tongue, drawing out the vowels.
Oh no, a part of me likes how my name sounds from his mouth.
What is happening to me?
Am I losing it?
Cain props my head up with something soft to let me see the rest of my body better, and fresh tears spill when I notice the marks on my skin.
Thick lines of black sharpie.
I saw that part on TV, too.
Doctors always mark their patients before surgery.
Cain’s free hand slides between my breasts over my stomach, stopping above my sex by my spider tattoo.
A whimper dies in my lungs.
I hate how much I want him to go lower and touch me there .
It must be the drugs making me feel a million different kinds of unhinged.
I can’t seriously be into this.
“Now listen, Erica. Blink twice if you are listening.”
With no other choice, I blink two times.
“Good girl,” he rumbles and my clit pulses.
Dammit .
“I’m gonna claim every single one of your holes. All four, darlin’. I’ll fuck you until you forget any other man who has ever been inside you.”
Four ?
Mouth.
Pussy.
Ass.
That’s three.
What the fuck does he mean by four?
“In this operating theater, I’m your God. Your life is in my hands, little dove, but I’m willing to show you mercy.” He pauses, thumb skimming along my clit.
Almost touching.
Almost.
“If you can hold back your orgasm, you get to keep your organs, and I’ll let you live another day. But if you come…”
The scalpel meets my hip, avoiding my tattoos as if he can’t bear to mar them.
It kind of tickles first.
Then it burns.
Blood bubbles from the shallow cut and Cain drags his index finger along the red line.
He sniffs my blood like he’s smelling an expensive wine before he sticks his tongue out and laps up every drop, a satisfied hum in his throat.
My eyes round with disgust and another emotion I choose to ignore.
But the deranged implication lingers in the back of my thoughts.
No man has ever wanted me like this.
Every part of me, inside and out.
Cain looks down at me with a hooded gaze and a cruel grin.
“If you come without my permission, little dove, I’m gonna cut you open from that slender neck all the way to your tight pussy.”