Like A Moth To A Flame

19. I love you so much, I wonder how your blood tastes

19

I love you so much, I wonder how your blood tastes

Moth

W e spent the day talking and going through clothes. Mice had invaded some boxes, unfortunately, and they were impossible to salvage. We took those boxes to the curb.

Amelia did my makeup and braided my hair in twin French braids across my shoulders. I wondered how long I could keep them like that. Having my hair out of my face felt nice. Tomorrow was Monday, and she would have to work. She offered to stay, but I waved her off, insisting she go. She didn’t need to lose her job on account of me, after all. She stayed until long after dinner, and then we said our goodbyes, and she was on her way back home.

It felt odd, being alone again, though somehow I was more lonely than I was scared.

Now, it was late, and I sat on the couch in my mom’s old dress, with one of my dad’s journals propped open in my lap. I’d finished the first one and moved on to the second. This one was more mundane than the rest—or at least it started that way. About a third of the way through the journal, I found the jagged edges of a page that had been ripped out. Wrinkling my nose, I pulled the shade off the lamp behind me, and brought the journal closer to my face, squinting as I struggled to see the indents on the next page. Beneath the words written, there was evidence of other words pressed deep into the paper from the ripped-out passage, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t read it.

Sighing, I flipped the page. That mystery would never be solved.

Instead, I focused on what I could read.

“The station is in shambles. No one wanted me to hire him, but I gave P.J. a chance, and now I’m wondering if I made the wrong decision. After what he did to that girl, I don’t know what to do. Every single officer is mad at me. Do I fire him? I’m the chief. It’s my decision, but I’m at a loss.”

I stopped, wracking my brain. P.J.? That sounded so familiar. Who was P.J.? Unfortunately, the passage ended there, and the ripped-out page wasn’t much help. On a whim, I reached over, swiped my phone off the corner of the coffee table, and pulled up Google. I searched for ‘P.J. Cottonwood Falls KS’ and every single different way you could rearrange the words, and nothing came up. I was just about to give up when a sudden thought struck me, and instead, I typed in: ‘Sheriff Banner, Cottonwood Falls’.

The first article that came up was from our local paper, The Cottonwood Gazette, and it spoke of the newly appointed Sheriff, Parker James Banner. Memorizing the spelling of his name, I returned to Google and plugged it in.

Nothing. Whatever he had done, it wasn’t public knowledge .

A cold chill ran through me, and I dropped the phone into my lap, returning to the journal.

“…After what he did to that girl, I don’t know what to do.”

What did he do? Sheriff Banner did something horrible, but as I flipped to the next page, there was no mention of what he had done. Plucking my phone from my lap, I opened it and went straight to my contacts. I found Barrett’s name and hit send. It rang and rang, a dull, monotonous tone in my ear before it went to voicemail.

Odd, Barrett never ignored his calls. Then my eyes caught sight of the time and I sighed. It was after midnight. He was asleep, and he had been for a while. I’d call him in the morning.

I closed the journal with a snap, feeling a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. Sheriff Banner had done something horrible. The thought had thrown me off-balance, and I couldn’t shake the cold chill that lingered in the air. My thought returned to the day sitting on Barrett’s porch swing when we’d been going over the suspects for my stalker.

“So he’s tall with a deep voice? Sheriff Banner?”

I shuddered at the thought, pushing the thought from my mind. He’d spoken at my father’s funeral. He’d been a pallbearer. There was no way he could do such a thing.

Could he?

Unable to stay still any longer, I got up from the couch and paced around the living room, my steps echoing in the silence. The house felt different now, as if shadows lurked in every corner, whispering secrets I couldn’t decipher.

Maybe he could. After all, he had done something so horrible that it made my father wonder if hiring him had been the right idea.

What could he have done?

The darkness outside pressed against the windows, adding to the sense of isolation that gripped me, even with every curtain shut tight. There had to be someone in this damn town that knew. Maybe Mama Mae? She seemed to know everything about everybody. I’d visit her in the morning. After all, with Amelia gone, I’d need breakfast.

The creak of a floorboard from upstairs caught my attention, and I stopped, my heart breaking into a gallop. I held my breath, straining to hear any other sound. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled with unease as I stood frozen in the middle of the living room.

On the couch, my phone buzzed to life.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I forced myself to move towards the couch. Each step I took seemed to echo loudly in the quiet house, and I winced at the noise. When I reached the coffee table, I hesitated. Sucking in a deep, shaking breath, I reached out and pawed up my phone, bringing it to my eyes.

A text, and there was my shadow.

Hide and seek, Little Moth.

A surge flashed through me, and my fingers flew over the screen.

Are you in my house ?

There was no answer, except for the sound of a heavy boot step from upstairs.

I thought back to what Amelia had said. Maybe I should call the police?

No. I couldn’t. What if the monster in my closet was Sheriff Banner himself?

I forced myself to swallow the lump of terror in my throat and moved with cautious steps towards the staircase, my eyes fixed on the darkness. The faint sound of another footfall echoed toward me, sending a shiver down my spine.

Should I try to make a run for it out the back door? Or barricade myself in a room and call for help? The seconds felt like hours as I stood frozen. The phone clutched tightly in my hands buzzed again, and I jumped, almost dropping it to the hardwood at my feet. Another text.

Find me before I find you.

I was typing before I even thought of what to say.

Give me a hint.

Why was I even entertaining this? I should be running, screaming into the night.

Maybe it was what Amelia had said.

What had I said in return?

Curiosity? Oh, right.

Maybe I wanted to find out how many lives I had left.

My phone buzzed again.

The place where we first met .

I blinked, narrowing my eyes at the words on the screen. The place we first met? Another footstep from upstairs answered that question for me. The guest room, it had to be. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I forced myself to move up the stairs. Each step I took seemed to echo loudly in the quiet house, and I winced at the noise. When I reached the foot of the stairs, I hesitated.

Why was I doing this? Why was I playing this stupid little game?

Curiosity, my thoughts reminded me.

The stairs creaked under my weight as I ascended, the steps groaning in protest. The darkness upstairs seemed thicker, heavier, as if it held its breath, waiting for me to make a move. I clutched the phone as though it were a lifeline, guiding me towards an unknown fate.

The darkness seemed to swallow me whole as I reached the top, the only source of light emanating from my phone screen. My grip on it tightened as I crept down the hallway, my heart beating erratically in my chest.

I turned around the banister, peering into the darkness behind the guest room door. It was open. Had I left it that way? I couldn’t remember now. My mind raced with a million thoughts, but one thing was clear—I was a terrified rabbit waiting outside of the lion’s den.

I paused at the doorway, my hand trembling as I pushed it open with a slow, deliberate hand. A dim light bathed the room, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

He had to be in here.

I walked around the bed to the other side. He wasn’t here .

I knelt, feeling the hard floor digging into my bare knees as I dropped to the floor, peering under the bed. Nothing but dust bunnies and old shoe boxes. Just as I moved to stand, a movement caught my eye. Between two of the boxes, a shadow stirred just outside the door. I heard the rhythm of heavy footsteps, and as I watched, I saw his boots moving past the door and down the stairs.

I sucked in a deep gasp and straightened, my blue eyes wide in the darkness.

Lifting my phone, my fingers shook as I typed.

I found you!

Jumping to my feet, I hurried from the room, striking my hip against the frame of the door as I plodded out into the hallway. Squinting down the stairs, I saw a tall shadow duck around the corner into the living room.

I win , I thought to myself. But was this a game I really wanted to play, let alone win?

I took the stairs two at a time, stumbling and nearly falling when I made it to the bottom. Jumping around the corner, I stood looking at an empty living room. I saw the journal lying open and forgotten across the couch, the shadeless lamp, and the cluttered coffee table—but not much else.

But I had seen him. I had seen him step through here.

Was I going insane?

Or was he toying with me, making me doubt my senses? I clutched my phone tightly; the screen illuminating the room like a beacon in the night. Every shadow seemed to come alive, dancing at the edge of my vision. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out any rational thought.

A sudden noise from the kitchen made me jump, my pulse skyrocketing. Without thinking, I darted towards the sound, my feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. The room was bathed in darkness, the only light spilling in from the living room and the moonlight filtering in from outside. I hesitated at the doorway, my breath catching in my throat. It was empty. How?

I didn’t hear his footsteps or the sound of his breath, but I could smell that familiar scent of musk, smoke, citrus, and leather.

He was here. He had to be.

Just as I moved to turn, a shadow cloaked in darkness came up behind me, and the icy grip of arms wrapped around my waist, pinning my arms down and ripping me up off my feet.

A choking gasp escaped my lips as I thrashed against his hold, my phone slipping from my fingers and clattering to the floor. I thrashed against his hold, feeling the room spin around me as he lifted me off the ground. A cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach. His breath ghosted over my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Wrong, Vanessa. I found you ,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear as he spoke.

I could feel his heart beating against my back, a steady rhythm that seemed to mock my frantic pulse.

With a sudden jerk, he dragged me back to the stairs and released me, pinning me back against the steps with a force that knocked the wind out of me. Gasping for air, I curled into a defensive ball, readying myself for whatever would come next. But instead of violence, he treated me only with the husky purr of his voice.

“I warned you, Moth. I told you not to tempt me. Now you get to learn what happens to little brats who disobey.”

I forced myself to look up at him, into the darkness where his face should be. He was facing me, boring down on me with all the intensity of a predator, yet I still couldn’t see his face. All I could see was the glint of his eyes staring back at me, so dark they were nearly black. It was as if he had become a shadow himself, a specter haunting me in the night. Even now, looking up at him, it took me far too long to realize why, even in the dim light, I couldn’t see him.

“What do you want?” I managed to whisper.

He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through the empty house.

“Oh, Vanessa,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “You know exactly what I want.”

His voice, already so dark and so deep, muffled beneath the ski mask he wore, hiding his face.

With one hand, he held me down, and with the other, his hand gripped my chin and he forced me to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into mine, sending a chill down my spine. Those eyes—deep brown like aged whiskey. I knew those eyes. Why did they seem so familiar to me, yet so foreign at the same time?

I had seen them before. He was right. He was right, I knew who he was.

A gleam of recognition flickered in his eyes, a hint of something sinister lurking behind them. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across my face as he spoke .

“I will give you one chance,” he said, his masked face inches away from mine. “Sit here like a good girl while I tie your hands. If you run, I will catch you. If you do as you are told, I will make it worth your while.”

Fear and defiance warred within me, but as I stared into those dark eyes, a flicker of something else stirred deep within. A memory long buried, a connection that tugged at the edges of my consciousness. Something about those eyes brought me a comfort that I couldn’t explain, like a safety net. Why? Why did I know those eyes?

“Don’t make me regret giving you this chance,” he warned, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Now say ‘Yes Daddy’ if you understand.”

No. I would not say that. I wouldn’t do it. Even if my brain was stuck and stuttering, I wouldn’t stoop so low.

“Say it,” he sneered.

“ Fuck you ,” I spat.

His face remained obscured by the mask, but I could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into me, and I could see the black fabric shift as he smiled.

“You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?” he seethed through clenched teeth. He chuckled, and his tone lightened. “You’re gonna be a fun brat to break.”

His grip on my chin tightened, his eyes piercing into mine with a mix of anger and something I couldn’t quite decipher. Then, in one swift movement, he released me and stepped back, his form looming in the dimly lit room .

I had two options. I could sit here and let him tie me, or I could run.

My eyes darted behind him, to the front door. How far was it? Ten feet? Fifteen?

I looked back up at him, and there was a glint in his eyes. Between his gloved hands, he produced a length of folded rope and began to slowly unwind it.

Swallowing thickly, I stayed where he put me, only flinching away when he knelt beside me, grabbing one of my wrists and stretching it above my head. The rope was coarse and rough as he wrapped it around me and secured the other end to the wrought iron baluster of the stairs. He repeated the process on the other side until I resembled a twisted hunting trophy, with one wrist tied to one side of the stairs and the other wrist tied to the other.

I struggled against his hold, but his bindings were tight and unforgiving, cutting into my skin as I strained against them. His face remained obscured by the mask, but I could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into me. He stripped one gloved hand with the other and dropped both on the floor at his feet. He reached up, his thumb hooking the bottom of the mask and pulling it up—not all the way, just enough to fold over his nose. I could see the angle of his jaw, and his lips, set in a knowing smirk.

“It’s adorable, Vanessa, how you try to act so fuckin’ tough, but we both know you’re scared,” he said, kneeling on the stairs in front of me. When his knee hit the wood, a loud thud echoed in the house, and I jumped.

“I’m not fuckin’ scared of you,” I spat, my brows furrowed. “I’m not scared. ”

“Are you sure?”

His hand shot forward, wrapping around my throat and pulling me up to him. My wrists pulled against the bindings, the rope digging and tearing at my flesh, but I fought to keep my face stoic. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me wince.

“I could do whatever I wanted to you, ya know?” His fingers squeezed tighter until I felt my blood pounding in my ears, and my vision began to pulse and flash. “I could fuck you, right here on the stairs, and fill up your pretty little cunt until it was leaking out of you. I could choke you with my cock, or fuck your ass. I could slit your goddamn throat if I felt like it, and there is nothing you could do to stop me. You are mine, Vanessa, and I can do whatever I want to your body. You belong to me.”

Still, I stayed silent, but I nodded, just once. Panic began to bubble in my guts, and my breath came faster and faster until my head was spinning. He released my throat with a final brutal squeeze, and I sucked down air as if I would never have the luxury again, and who knew, maybe I wouldn’t.

“W-what are you gonna do?” I asked, my voice strained and hoarse. He moved closer to me, his hand dropping from my neck down to the neckline of my dress, pulling it down so painfully slow that my flesh prickled and burned.

“I’m gonna make your pussy cry.”

He dropped me, and I fell back to the stairs, my back pressed roughly against the sharp wood, and my fingers wrapping around the ropes tied at my wrists. His eyes were dark and fiery, like a storm brewing on the horizon. He moved closer, his boots scraping against the wooden floor, and I could feel heat radiating off him in waves. Fingers found the front of my dress again and pulled it down until it caught beneath the lace of my bra and held there. He ripped the cups down, exposing me to the chill of the air and the contrasting warmth of his palm as he caressed and kneaded my flesh in his hands.

I cried out, a mix of revulsion and pleasure as he touched me, my body reacting to his touch even though my mind screamed for me to fight. I’m not sure how long he continued this, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin, my nipples hardening under his touch. He leaned over me, his scent enveloping me as he bent, and when his lips traced over my jawline, I felt something inside of me come to life. The stubble across his chin grated at my skin as he moved lower, capturing my lips in a heated kiss that left me breathless when he pulled back.

He bent lower, his lips tracing over my throat. Teeth nipped at my flesh until I yelped, and then I felt the gentle pass of his tongue caressing and soothing. Soon, my thighs were shaking, my hands yanking at my bindings. I hated the effect he had on me, but now it was undeniable.

He moved lower, and his lips caged the spiraled peak of my nipple, his tongue tracing soft patterns until I squirmed. Even if I tried to bite it back, I gasped and whimpered, my desire growing with each touch. His hand found the other, twisting and pinching, his mouth working me until I was moaning, my voice echoing in the hall and coming back to slap me across the face with my hypocrisy. Finally, he released me, and I sucked in a panting breath, my heartbeat pounding between my legs .

How did he have an effect on me when no one else did, and why couldn’t I fight him no matter how hard I tried?

As he worked his way down my body, I felt vulnerable and exposed, but also a strange sense of desire. The way he moved, the intensity in his eyes, and the slow, deliberate caresses sent shivers down my spine.

He reached my lower abdomen, his hand grazing the side of my panties, and I trembled, expecting him to take them off. But instead, he continued down to my inner thighs, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. His eyes never left mine, and I could see the hunger there, a raw intensity that made me feel both scared and lascivious.

With that, he dipped his head, his tongue tracing the line of my inner thigh, and I shivered from the cold air on my wet skin. His hands reached beneath the skirt of my dress and flipped it up, and finally, I found my voice.

“D-don’t!” I said, panting, my abdomen quivering and jumping as I fought to catch my breath. “I-I’m on my period, I-I—”

I yanked on the ropes again, but the knots were tight. I was stuck, caught like a fly in a spider’s web with no hopes of escape, and much like the fly, I was about to be eaten alive.

I knew he wouldn’t stop, not now, and not with the look in his eyes.

“Baby girl,” he whispered. “If I was afraid of a little blood, I wouldn’t have gotten where I am in life. Besides, if I have it my way, that’ll be the last one you have for a while.”

His free hand grabbed my thigh, and I flinched under his touch, the pain and pleasure of it leaving me breathless. His fingers found the edge of my panties and pulled, ripping them down my legs and exposing me. I squirmed under his gaze, ashamed and fervently wishing I could hide from the shadow in his eyes.

His tongue traced the line of my slit, and I gasped, my breath tearing into my lungs so hard that I tasted blood on the tip of my tongue. I hadn’t expected him to go that far, not like this.

His hands cupped my hips, holding me in place as he pressed his face between my legs, his tongue lapping against me and twisting against my clit. I bucked against his mouth, my body responding to his touch even as my mind screamed for me to stop him.

My body betrayed me with each wave, my hips rolling and grinding in desperation. The shadows around us seemed to dance and sway, performing a macabre ballet that strummed in beat with my torment. He paused, looking up at me, and I could see the satisfaction in his eyes.

I watched him, looking down as his fingers spread me, and before I could fight or react, he ripped out my tampon in one swift yank.

“No!” I cried, clenching my thighs as I tried to close them against his invasive hands. “Stop! Don’t! It’s gonna make a me-mess! Fuck!”

He ignored me, his fingers plunging inside of me and I cried out, my body arching up towards him, every muscle tight and rigid. I could smell the iron tang of blood and the salt of my arousal, but I couldn’t fucking stop it, and a bigger part of me didn’t want to.

I was so wet, throbbing, and it was all his fault. I felt like an animal, a wild beast that he was taming, but the primal side of me wanted him to take me further, to make me his forever. Break me and hold me down. I didn’t care. I wanted it all .

As he thrust his fingers into me, he looked up at me and smiled, a twisted grin that sent a shiver roaring through me. I screamed, my voice echoing through the empty house, but it only seemed to fuel him.

His free hand moved from my thigh and wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he leaned down, his tongue continuing its wicked dance. The ropes pulled tighter, the balusters groaning in protest, and my wrists ached from the pressure.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t remember why I had tried to stop this in the first place.

He forced his fingers in and out, his tongue working against my clit in a slow, steady rhythm. The stubble across his jaw sandpapered my sensitive skin, a stark juxtaposition to the gentle rolling of his tongue. My body shook, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath rapid and shallow. I was trapped in a world of pleasure and pain, of desire and fear, of submission and resistance.

It was a dance of yin and yang, and I was stuck smack dab in the middle.

Each wave sent my hips rolling, seeking more. I was helpless against this man, this beast that had taken control of me. My body writhed, arching towards his mouth as if it were the only place I wanted to be in the world.

And it was. Fuck, I was tired of denying it. I liked it.

No, I fucking needed it.

“P-please,” I whined, grinding myself against his mouth. “F-fuck. Fuck, please!”

I felt the heat of his breath on my sensitive skin, and then it happened; his tongue moved in just the right way as he sucked me, his lips and tongue working together to bring me to the edge. I cried out, my body convulsing, my fingers digging into the ropes that bound me as I fought to stay upright. It was too much, too overwhelming, and yet I wanted more. I wanted him to consume me, to take all of me, to make me his completely.

As the pleasure washed over me, leaving me breathless and spent, he pulled away, looking up at me, his lips and tongue wet from the torture he’d put me through. He sat back on his knees, bringing his hand to his lips, and I saw the blood and lust in a swirling vortex across the pads of his fingers as he sucked them into his mouth.

I watched, captivated and horrified, as he savored my essence, the primal hunger in his eyes never fading. He climbed up my body, and I tried to steady my breathing, my heart still pounding in my chest.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine. The coppery scent of blood filled my nostrils and poured down my throat as he kissed me, feeding at my mouth with a voracious need. I could feel the wild desire flowing from him, and though I was scared, I could not deny the forbidden taste of it. I parted my lips, my heart racing and every nerve ending firing beneath my flesh. The roughness of his tongue scraping against mine and the deep growls that resonated in his chest electrified me.

My body trembled, and I felt like I was in a haze. My mind was still reeling, spinning in tightening circles, trying to process what had just happened .

He pulled away and looked at me, his eyes dark and hungry. There was a bloodstained smirk on his lips as he leaned closer, his breath warm and sultry against my skin.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” I whispered, even if I hated to admit it.

“Good girl,” he growled.

He reached up, loosening the rope around my left wrist until it was slack and sagging. I watched as he jumped off the stairs, yanking the mask down his face and stepping up to the door. He pulled it open and disappeared into the night without a word, leaving me panting and struggling to make sense of what had happened.

I lay there against the stairs, my breath hitching in my lungs and tears racing from the corners of my eyes—though not from fear, not this time.