17. Please
17
Please
Ever
I blinked awake, my arms stretching wide across a soft surface of cotton, the downy duvet cushioning my body like a nest. It took me a moment to remember where I was, eyes flitting around the darkened room, taking in the light-blocking shades and heavy tapestries. I was in Theron Hawthorne’s house, he was a serial killer, and I had let him fuck me into the literal cement last night.
I sat up, my chest twinging — more than usual — and ran my mind over the events and revelations of the prior night. The discovery was that Theron was not only a killer, but he came from a family of killers. Theron claimed that no one met his blade and didn’t deserve it, but how could that sit right with me? Who was he to decide right from wrong and then take action on it?
But he can get you a heart , a small voice whispered in my mind.
“Ugh,” I groaned and buried my face in my hands, wishing for my antidepressants more than ever so I could check out of this reality. It felt more like a twisted dream, actually. God, I couldn’t believe I let him fuck me. I’d begged for him, cried for him, and let him bathe me in his cum like a whore.
My hands fell down the rest of my body, resting over the pot on my upper thigh that had a familiar burning sensation. I let my fingers trace the raised edges of the cut, my mind drifting to years spent on the floor of my bathroom with a razor blade and tears in my eyes. But this didn’t make me feel the same way self harm had, and if anything I felt redeemed. Marked by someone who wanted me, instead of self loathing.
A small ding sounded in the otherwise quiet room, interrupting my spiral. I noticed that my phone was plugged in on the side table and lit up with a message alert.
Theron Hawthorne: Good Morning, rabbit. I won’t be back until later. I have a long list today. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Try not to do any more exploring until I come back.
I was not going to stay here all day while he was gone, alone in his house. Not when I had no idea what other incriminating mementos he had hidden in those bins downstairs or anywhere else in this mansion by the bay. I was still naked in his bed, my body sticky and warm. I needed a hot shower and strong drugs to make me forget what I’d done.
My meds are at home. I’ll call you later.
I set my phone down on the bed and slid to the floor, spotting my clothes laid out neatly on a chair by the windows. I needed to get out of here so I could think. Being that close to him last night had fogged my mind and dulled my good sense. This was all utterly fucked. I needed space. I knew that he wouldn’t give me much of it, so I would take what I could before he forced us back together again.
My phone pinged again, but I didn’t need to check the notification to know that Theron was arguing with me — likely telling me he had meds in the house that I could take and that we needed to talk when he got home. I didn’t want to hear it. I was in danger of falling apart in his hands the longer he held me. If I was still here when he got home, I knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to resist him.
I shoved the phone into my jacket pocket and nearly ran from the room. Entering the hallway, I noted I was just down the hall from the dream-like library Theron had used to lure me in the night before. He had baited me with it, getting me to drop my guard, and fuck did it work a treat. I’d actually trusted him enough to play his silly little game, but what I’d found in the basement, what he’d admitted about himself, it was too dark to ignore. Did I believe that he believed he was doing the right thing by killing rapists and murderers? Yes. It didn’t change the facts, though.
Fuck, Ever, you’re so pathetic! How could you let that man into your body?!
I pushed out of his house, taking the steps to the street two at a time. Pausing briefly to orient myself — fuck, this was a nice neighborhood. I set off towards the nearest T stop. Lord, my body was sore in places it hadn’t been in a long time. It was a dreary morning in Boston, overcast with a rolling mist that clung to your skin and chilled your bones, leaving little space but for the desire to curl up in front of a warm fire. The streets were empty, and I was relieved by the sight of the familiar subway entrance when I finally made it to the station.
I frowned when I saw police officers around the stairs, directing people away from Haymarket and pointing towards the buses that lined the streets. A burly officer was shouting instructions: “The orange line is closed. Please take the buses to South Station and find your connection there.”
Inconvenienced travelers in winter coats with coffee cups in hand murmured their exasperation.
It was seven in the morning, peak commuter time, and the busiest train line was down. There were two buses waiting to take passengers to South Station, but from where I was standing, I could see they were jam-packed, with dozens more angry commuters pressing forward. There were Lyfts and Ubers crowding around to pick up the wealthier and more time-poor passengers who weren’t willing to endure the hell of rail replacement buses, but I didn’t have the money for such a luxury. Maybe I should just walk down to South Station and pick up the commuter rail from there? I needed time to get my head sorted, but a crowded bus was not where I wanted to be while I did it.
My phone pinged angrily in my pocket, and I sighed. He would only get more insistent as time went on, but fuck him if he couldn’t appreciate that I needed space right now. Theron was a doctor, for Christ’s sake. Surely, he could comprehend how much of a shock this all was for me. It’s not like I could avoid him for long anyway. I was certain he’d just show up at my place this afternoon.
“I’m yours!” I had screamed while lost in pleasure.
Jesus Christ — that would come back to haunt me. I just knew it. I’d said it in the throes of passion, but something told me Theron Hawthorn would hold me to it. His fucking initials were carved into my skin!
I clicked my phone to silent before staring down the street, joining a small procession of others who were on their way to work. They all carried bags and briefcases, and most of them had their phones nearly taped to their faces as they jay-walked and stepped in front of traffic. Typical of Bostonians — especially in the early hours before work. I pulled my jacket tighter around my neck, my curls frizzing in the icy mist as I tried to calm my thoughts for a moment.
Theron had always been up-front with me about how he felt, that he was obsessively watching me, and the steps he’d taken to invade my privacy and life. These were all dangerous and killer-like qualities that should have had me calling the cops, so why didn’t I? Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t seem like a danger to me , but dangerous nonetheless. A wolf who watched the herd of sheep with interest but not malice. Then, there was the fact he’d promised me something that I needed more than anything else.
A heart.
I’d clearly avoided any deeper thinking as to how he would obtain said heart, assuming the means wouldn’t be legal as soon as he’d told me he couldn’t get me onto the official transplant list. But — I’d still never let myself consider how dark the truth of it was — that he was a Dexter Morgan disguised as a Dorian gray. He watched me with a hunger that made me feel seen for the first time in years, and his smile when he saw me… like he was actually happy to set eyes on my face. Yes, he’d hinted upon reflection that I could see all of the signs there, but I’d blithely ignored them in lieu of the fantasy I was letting play out. But now that I knew . How could I let this continue?
Funny that you think you have a choice, rabbit. I heard his voice in my head and knew he was right. Theron Hawthorne wouldn’t give up so easily, and I didn’t want him to.
Arriving at South Station was like stepping into a madhouse. The queues for the commuter rail were a mile long, everyone angrily staring down at their smartwatches and cursing poor MBTA, like they’d orchestrated the whole thing on purpose, to delay them personally. Strangers jostled me with little regard - standard, really, as most people usually lacked regard for their fellow humans. Everyone was living in their own world, and their world was all that mattered.
Fuck it, I’ll walk home. I have nothing better to do with my morning, and did I really want to spend hours cowering in my small apartment until Theron came knocking? I think not. The only problem was that in the finger-numbing spring weather — the over-hour walk home would be uncomfortable at best. I opened my banking app and checked my balance, thinking maybe I could splurge this one time on a fifteen-minute Uber ride, but no. Not if I wanted to eat this month.
Resigned, I exited the station, still being jostled around by those with more important places to be than here, and started the long walk home, already imagining how I’d be huddled around my radiator, trying to bring life back into my body. The further south I traveled, the fewer commuters filled the streets as more and more peeled off to their offices and worksites. I spied a fewer medical workers returning home from long shifts. I’d wanted to avoid the medical district entirely, somehow knowing Theron would sense my presence and be able to spirit me away.
Nearing home, the streets were basically empty. Only one person remained of the once diverse crowd of pilgrims who had departed South Station on foot to avoid the commuter rails just as I did. He’d trailed several feet behind me the entire walk, but I didn’t think much of it as he kept his eyes trained down on his phone just as everyone else had. Now that we were more or less alone — the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had an eerie feeling settled in my gut but tried to drown it out.
When my apartment was in view, and I started to cross the road, the man kept walking straight ahead and further down the street without so much as looking up at me, and I cursed myself for being so jumpy. Not everyone was a villain, a stalker, a murderer, or a serial killer, for that matter. I’d searched the crowd for his face on more than one occasion, and while several faces did share a passing resemblance to him, they didn’t feel like my darling stalker turned lover.
I trudged up the rotting wooden stairs of my apartment complex, fishing my keys from the inner pocket of my jacket and pushing open the door. Now inside, I’d just turned to close it when it burst back open and knocked me to the floor in an agonized heap. The old wood had caught me in the chin, and I tasted blood in my mouth as stars began to twist around my vision. Groaning, I rolled over onto my stomach. The door slammed shut behind me, and then my hands were on my ankles. For a moment, my mind had turned to Theron and his ability to appear from nowhere, no matter where I was, but I quickly dismissed the thought. He never would have barged in like that — hurting me.
“Look at you,” a man’s voice sneered from behind me. “All alone, beautiful?”
I tried to scream, but it died in my chest — everything ached, and I was sure I was in shock. This most definitely was not Theron.
Oh God, this wasn’t Theron!
Roughly, my attacker duct-taped my ankles together as I started to claw at my rug in an attempt to crawl away from him. “Stop,” I croaked weakly as blood dripped from my mouth. Several of my medications had a blood-thinning effect, and the damage felt far worse than it probably was. What I feared was what else this man could do to me. “Please —”
I was silenced as his arms came down in front of my face, securing tape over my mouth before he wrapped the roll around my hair until it pulled and stung. I couldn’t call out for help, and when I tried to turn to face, I felt a knee jam into my back, forcing the breath from my lungs. Under his weight, it felt like a rib had been cracked.
Oh god, this man was going to kill me. He was going to rape me, then leave me for dead in my own apartment, wasn’t he?
“Followed you from the station, beautiful, and you didn’t even notice me.” He laughed darkly, grabbing both my wrists and yanking my hands behind my back. I tried to fight him, but he wrenched my arms sharply, and I cried out into the tape. I think he dislocated my shoulder.
I wanted to snarl at him, kicking and screaming, Yes! I did notice you, but I was trying to ignore my anxiety and trust the world. For fucks sake, I wanted to trust the world!
This was the kind of monster that Theron hunted, and I now understood why he did what he did. There was no one else out there taking down sick and twisted creatures like the one who had followed me home — the police didn’t take single women seriously, and they certainly didn’t follow up when you told them about the foul humans who had harmed you. Violated you.
I’m sorry, Theron. I should have let you protect me. I should have stayed.
Tears were falling from my eyes, blood filling my mouth as I tried to breathe, but it was hard when face down with a man’s knee in your back. I started coughing, choking on the blood that had begun to flow the wrong way down, and I screamed into the void that he was killing me!
You’re killing me!
I was thrashing below him, trying to wiggle free, but he handcuffed the side of my face, and I groaned - my ears ringing. I closed my eyes, cheek pressed to the cold floor as the man started to rummage through the pockets of my jacket. I was preparing for the inevitable, mentally trying to remove myself from my body as I had trained myself to do as a teen. My body never felt like it was my own, taken from me by men who were supposed to protect me. I thought of the sad, intoxicated teen on the floor of her bedroom as a boy loomed over her, holding all the control.
“This is all you’re good for, you know that, right?” The boy who promised to be kind to my heart was smirking down at me.
I had been kneeling topless, my body swaying from the drugs in my system that he had more or less forced me to take an hour before. “If you tell anyone, you’ll be the whore. No one would blame me for this”.
My head was nodding, shoulders shaking as I willed the floor, trying to swallow me whole. I had believed him, and I also believed that I let him do these things to me — that I wanted it, deserved it. He had convinced me that this was what I had been asking for when I called him drunk, begging for him to love me again. He made me believe that a sharp hit across the face was love.
The man on top of me started to pull at my leggings, and I released my breath. Go far away, Ever. You don’t want to be here for this, I pleaded to myself. Close your eyes.
Just when I felt myself severing my consciousness from my body, accepting the inevitable harm and abuse, the weight on top of me vanished. My ears still rang, and the blood was flowing freely down my throat. I hoped it would drown me before he finished what he’d started. Vaguely, I could hear a scuffling behind me and feel something kicking at my feet. I coughed again, groaning into the tape as the pain in my back and side flared, feeling like a knife was carving into me like a turkey. Hacking away at my ribs, looking for the perfect piece.
When the hands returned and started to pull at my arms, I screamed again through the tape. Fuck, please just get it over with! Just kill me already! My ankles were still taped together, but when the grip shifted to my shoulders and flipped me around, I was staring up into familiar midnight eyes.