28. Res
28
Res
I can’t help the heavy feeling that settles in my stomach for the rest of my trip when I don’t hear from Kaydon again. I would brush it off as irrational. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been ghosted. No matter how eager he’d seemed while we were on the beach, he was allowed to change his mind. And as shitty as it was to not tell me, Kaydon didn’t owe me anything. I hadn’t even known him for two days.
Still, I can’t help but remember the last time I’d been ghosted.
But there’s no way. I didn’t leave a trail. I didn’t slip up once. No one knew where I was. There’s no way Jaxson could have figured it out. There’s no way he could have known what I planned to get up to and with who. Jaxson may be rich and have a huge network and a lot of power, but he’s not omnipotent or omniscient.
There’s no way he did anything to Kaydon. Kaydon simply changed his mind and ghosted me like a jerk. If that’s how he was going to act, I’m better off without him.
That’s what I try to convince myself of anyway. What I have to convince myself of to enjoy the last couple of days of my trip. What I have to delude myself into thinking when I turn my call forwarding back on and I get no calls from Jaxson for the remainder of the days I’m away. Not that I’m upset about that. But Jaxson certainly wouldn’t give up trying to find out where I am just because I hung up the phone and told him to fuck off. If anything, it should have emboldened him. Enabled him to try to make my life and this trip as hellish as he could, even if it was by calling me every hour and texting me every five minutes or a voicemail full of messages from him.
His silence bodes nothing good because it means only two things. He knows where I am or he’s back home waiting for me. He certainly would have shown himself if he knew where I was. If he’d cut his trip short find me in Savannah. But he never shows. Nor does he let me know that he knows where I am by calling or sending pictures of me out and about to show that there’s nowhere I can hide from him. So if he doesn’t know where I am, it means he’s waiting for me back home.
I get home Sunday morning half expecting to find Jaxson waiting for me in my apartment, having cut his trip short just so he could meet me there. But he’s not there. Nor does it look like he’s been in my apartment.
For all of Sunday and most of Monday while I’m at work, I start to hope that maybe I outsmarted Jaxson for once. That maybe I did manage to get away from him, no matter how short a time. That maybe, if it comes down to it, I can actually get beyond his reach. That he may have power over me, but it’s not absolute. That if I get far enough away from him, he’ll give up .
“You might be here, but your mind is still clearly on vacation,” Shelly jokes as we go over a video recording about how her company’s billing process works.
I shake myself out my thoughts. “Sorry.”
“Had a good time?” she asks.
“It was relaxing. I needed to get away.”
Officially, and as far as my manager is concerned, I was sick. But I don’t report to Shelly, and she’s proven to be down to earth enough that I trust her not to tell that I used my sick days for an impromptu vacation. And if she does, I’ll lie through my teeth. Besides, saying I was sick wouldn’t be a lie. This whole thing with Jaxson has made me feel sick.
“Next time, take me with you. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been on vacation,” Shelly mutters. “Seems like every time I finally finish one task, my boss is giving me something else to do. Honestly, working on this audit with you is the most settled I’ve been in a while. Otherwise, I’d have been all over the country more than a few times by now.”
“You should take some time off. I can do the audit on my own for a couple of weeks,” I suggest.
“I’ll be off the week of Thanksgiving,” she says.
“Guess the rest of your coworkers will be happy about that. Neither me nor you will be bothering them trying to figure out how the fuck their billing systems and reports work.”
Shelly glances at the clock in the corner of the screen we’re both looking at and winces. “I didn’t notice it was so late. I need to get home by four today and if I don’t leave now, the traffic on 16 is going to be insane.”
“Might as well. Maybe by tomorrow my head will be back from vacation,” I joke weakly as I close my laptop and begin to put my things away.
“Well, you know they say you always need a day or two to recover from the actual vacation and get back into the rhythm of life. So if you need to take tomorrow off too, let me know.”
I scoff. “Shell, it’s not you I have to worry about. It’s my manager. Besides, I’ve got Thanksgiving off and all of Christmas and New Year’s. So I need to get as much work closed out for the year as possible before then.”
Shelly gives me a sympathetic look before grabbing her things and leaving. I leave shortly after and walk home. But rather than going up to my apartment, I get my car to go grocery shopping. I’m in the mood to cook rather than ordering out. Now that it’s stopped being a necessary chore for me to learn for my so-called future husband and children, cooking has become a way for me to calm down and relax when I’m feeling anxious and stressed.
I don’t have any sort of plan, but after browsing the produce section aimlessly for a few minutes, I decide I have a taste for chicken, biscuits, and gravy. I grab what I know I’ll need from off the top of my head, not needing a recipe.
With my shopping done, I go back home, manage to get my groceries up all in one trip, and close the door to my apartment behind me without putting anything down. I then drop my bags on the table .
More than anything, I want to get out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable. But if I get too comfortable, I’ll put off cooking and then come seven o’clock, I’ll be ordering takeout.
It's as I’m unloading my groceries that I hear the sound of muffled talking. Like through a muffled speaker. I look at my phone to make sure there’s no app I left on in the background, but find nothing. I listen for the sounds to see where it’s coming from.
“Atone? What the fucking freaky shit are you on about? I wasn’t trying to get in the middle of a lover’s spat. I just wanted a good fuck. You know how it is?”
I lift my grocery bags out the way to find a black tablet sitting on the table.
A black tablet that wasn’t there when I left work this morning. A black tablet I somehow missed when I put the groceries down earlier. I must have jostled it just right to make it start automatically playing.
My heart drops to my stomach as I remember the last time I found a black tablet sitting on the table.
Without conscious thought, I pick up the tablet and hurl it at the wall, refusing to play this sick game. The tablet shatters, and I let out a sigh of relief when I see the cracked black screen.
My relief is short-lived.
My television glows to life, and the video that was playing on the tablet is now playing on the screen.
“No!” I scream. “I won’t watch it!”
I put my hands over my ears and close my eyes, refusing to give in, even as the volume on the TV is maxed. But when the video ends, it simply loops again .
It loops twice more before I finally uncover my ears and open my eyes, defeated by Jaxson’s incessant persistence.
I watch as Jaxson puts on a hazmat suit. I watch as one of his men hands him a plastic container. Watch as he yanks Kaydon’s head back and pours acid on his eyes. As Kaydon screams and trembles and tries to jerk away while Jaxson blinds him. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why he’s blinding him either.
But Jaxson isn’t done. He picks up a sharp scalpel and says, “I know it’s going to hurt. But I unfortunately can’t let you keep these fingers.”
And then, one by one, he cuts of each and every one of Kaydon’s fingers from his right hand. The same fingers he used to pleasure me last week.
The rest of the video plays, but even though I’m watching I feel detached from reality. It feels like a dream as I watch him literally pluck Kaydon’s eyes out, heedless to the man’s screaming. Watch as he burns the fingers on a golden offering plate.
The video ends, and I set the tablet on the table, only to see a black velvet box that I also missed when I came in. I grab it, almost positive what I’m going to find inside. Still, knowing what I’m going to find inside doesn’t prepare me for what I find inside. I scream and drop the box and what’s inside when I see them.
Kaydon’s eyes.
His fucking eyes.
Those enchanting blue eyes .
Except, they aren’t enchanting blue anymore. They’re milky and cloudy. The pigment burned away by the acid Jaxson poured on them.
Somehow Jaxson managed to preserve them. There’s some kind of plastic, glass film around them.
“Fuck,” I say. “Fucking, fuck!”
Jaxson… He…
Somehow he knew. Somehow not only did he figure out where I was, he knew about Kaydon. Somehow, he saw us that night. That night Kaydon stopped messaging. The beach security who stopped him. It was all Jaxson. I should have known. I should have done something. I should have gone back. I should have stayed with Kaydon. I should have called the cops and reported him missing.
But what good would any of it have done? I would have stayed with Kaydon, he would have come back to my hotel room, and Jaxson would have maimed and then killed him. I would have told the police he was missing based on what? Knowing him for less than two days? I didn’t even know his last name. As far as they would have been concerned, he’d ghosted me. There was nothing I could have done different. Kaydon’s fate was sealed the moment I chose him. The moment I decided I wanted to sleep with him, he became a target. How could I have been so na?ve to think that Jaxson wouldn’t find a way to figure out where I was?
I’m responsible for ruining a man’s life. Zach could be excused. Back then, I didn’t know the depth of Jaxson’s depravity. But I knew this time. I knew and—
No. I’m just as much of a victim in this. The only one who is at fault is the man who did this in my name. I’m not at fault for wanting to feel normal. For wanting to get away from my tormentor. And how dare he?
How. Fucking. Dare. He.
I bend down to put the preserved eyeballs back in the box they came in, grab my keys, and leave, dinner forgotten.
I take the long way around to avoid the traffic Shelly left early to avoid. But even then, it takes twice as long as it would have to get to Jaxson’s mansion than it would have without the traffic. Fuck, I hate that so many people have moved here.
My road rage only feeds my frustration and fury at Jaxson. So by the time I’ve pulled up in front of the house and stormed up the stairs to find him in his damn office waiting for me, I only see red. And the red is all I care about when I throw the damn box of eyeballs and lunge at him where he’s standing. Jaxson, to my frustration, doesn’t even appear fazed by my attack.
“Didn’t like the gift?” he asks smugly.
“You fucking bastard. You mutilated a man! You ruined a man’s life!”
“I could have killed him. I didn’t,” Jaxson says with a shrug.
“You may as well have,” I snap.
Jaxson raises an eyebrow and says, “I didn’t take you to be an ableist, Lauressa. He can still go on to live a fulfilling life.”
“You know that’s not what I meant!” I yell and punch him in the chest. “He didn’t do anything.”
“He saw you naked. That was more than enough. ”
“And I let him. It’s my body. I can show it to whoever the hell I want to.”
“You can. And I can also punish them for it.”
“Punish them for my choices?”
“Are you saying you want me to punish you?” he asks, taking an ominous step toward me.
“No!” I say quickly, but my breath hitches some as I do. A shiver goes down my spine. I ignore it and hope he doesn’t notice. “I want you not to punish people for my actions. Seeing my body isn’t a sin. Before you know it, you’ll be saying how I can and can’t dress and have me wearing those god damn prairie dresses and smocks.”
Jaxson scoffs. “I’m not so unreasonable, Snow White. You can wear whatever you want as long as no man sees you naked.”
“So you’re going to punish every man who ever sees me naked? On purpose or not? Accident or not? What if I have a nip slip on the beach? Or… Or… what if I’m in an accident and they have to cut off my clothes and work on me naked? What then?”
“Of course there are extenuating and outlying circumstances to every rule. Again, I’m not an unreasonable man like you seem to think I am. My rule is perfectly clear.”
“So you’re going to punish any man who ever sees my naked body. That’s what you’re telling me. Any man who sees me loses his eyesight.”
“Or worse. Depends on the circumstance and my mood,” Jaxson says rather blithely .
It’s only the fact that I’m so angry and in such disbelief that I do what I do next. I know it’s insane. But these are insane circumstances.
“Let’s test that then,” I snap as I throw off my denim jacket and then take off my t-shirt.
“Lauressa. What are you doing?”
I don’t answer him. Only glare at him as I undo my bra, baring my breasts to him, not embarrassed at all that he’s seeing me this way. He has cameras in my house. He made me strip for him. He cut my dress open during Halloween and fucked me with a sword. I’m beyond caring about modesty when it comes to Jaxson. Especially not to prove a point.
I kick off my shoes and socks and push down my panties and jeans in one fell swoop, leaving me totally naked.
“Lauressa,” Jaxson states again.
I don’t answer him, just storm out the office. I wrench the front door open. Three or four of his men are spread across the grounds, a couple dressed as security while the others are disguised a lawn keepers.
“You going to blind your men, Jaxson,” I shout as I walk down the steps, also successfully gaining the attention of his security.
“Lauressa,” Jaxson snaps from behind me. “Come back inside.”
“Look at me,” I yell, running up to where two of his men are maintaining the hedges. “I’m fucking naked. Look all you want. It’s my body, and I’ll show it to whoever the fuck I want to.”
“Lauressa,” Jaxson roars. “If you don’t stop, you really will get that punishment. ”
“Fuck you,” I snap making my way around the perimeter of the house.
I stop directly in front of one of the cameras that go to the security feed manned by no less than three men at a time.
“Can you see me up there?” I ask. Then, feeling more insane by the second, I push out my breasts and strike a pose. “I’m ready for my close up.”
“Lauressa,” Jaxson growls, but I’m not done.
I go up to yet another lawn keeper who has been trying to avert his eyes, grab his hands, and place them on either of my breasts.
“You going to cut off the fingers of your own men, Jaxson?” I snap.
Jaxson says nothing, his face falling into an impassive stare. His expression is completely blank. No anger. No amusement. No smugness. Nothing. Just blank. A shiver runs through me. Because when a person’s expression is that empty, it can’t bode anything good. I get the strong sense that Jaxson is a supernova about to explode.
He calmly pulls me away from the man whose hands I was holding to my breast. Then he looks at the man and orders, “Gather every man who saw her and come down to the altar in twenty minutes. I’ll get everything prepared in the meantime.”
The man nods, dropping his current task to follow Jaxson’s order.
Jaxson then drags me back across the lawn toward the house. I want to ask what he’s planning. I want to ask what the hell the altar is. But I don’t. Because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jaxson is about to make sure I find out.