Chapter 24
Raven climbs over his chest and straddles him, while leaning over and cutting his skin right below his hairline. Heather and I both move to his head, and watch as if we’re watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.
He whistles while skinning Dr. Martin, and it’s obvious he has done this many times.
While I was tense skinning him, Raven is relaxed, almost like this relieves stress for him.
He has his head between his knees, trapping it so he can’t move, as Dr. Martin screams in pain.
I wonder which is worse. It’s got to be the dick, right?
Although maybe this is worse, because he knows this is the end of his miserable life.
I still can’t believe he had me so fooled.
I honestly believed he was a good doctor, and cared for my wellbeing.
All the times he acted like he was disgusted with Sullivan’s behavior, he was just fooling me.
“She’s mine, you know. You never should have done the things you did.
Raping her, locking her up, forcing her to eat a fucking heart, not to mention the fucking pudding.
Did you really think restraining me would keep me from her?
You knew, the day I saw her on the news, I’d never let you keep her. Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Alexsander hisses through clenched teeth, “how could she be yours, Raven? I bought and paid for her. That makes her mine.”
“Stop!” I yell, and Raven removes the scalpel from his skin.
His forehead skin hangs over his eye on one side, but I can still see his other one staring at me.
“What do you mean, you bought and paid for me?”
His visible eye appears to be bulging, and it’s really gross without skin covering it, but I continue to glare at him.
“Raven, don’t you dare touch him again until he answers me.”
He gets off of Alexsander, and kneels on the bed beside him.
“Answer her fucking question, or I promise you, I can make it hurt more.”
After a shaky breath, he admits, “I bought you. Even your own husband knew you were a useless whore. Like your parents before him, Sullivan didn’t want you.
That’s your real story, right? Have you told Raven?
Bianca Stanton, little girl lost. Always unwanted.
Never loved. You’re worthless. The only thing you are good for is torture.
Sullivan knew that. It’s why I paid for you.
The only thing he wanted in return was your death.
It was promised to him. Pity I won’t be able to hold up my end of the deal. ”
I stumble backward, as if he hit me in the stomach. It feels the same as it would if he did. The wind has been knocked out of me from his words alone.
Him referring to the fact that my birth parents left me in a ditch was a low blow, but it still hurts. He’s right. I have always been unwanted.
“Finish him,” is all I’m able to get out.
Heather moves to me, and puts her arm around my shoulders in a tender gesture.
“He’s a liar, Bianca. Ignore his disgusting words.”
I shrug her free, and wrap my arms around my stomach in an attempt to comfort myself. His words are still rattling around in my head. If someone lies about you, it’s not so bad, but when you know it’s mostly fact, it burns from the inside out.
“Everything he said was true. All of it. I didn’t know that Sullivan sold me, but the rest of it is.”
I glance up and open my mouth, to ask how Sullivan was part of this plan if he’s dead. Surely he didn’t orchestrate that. I’m too late. Raven has cut his throat, and blood is pouring out of his gaping wound as he gurgles his final breath.
That piece of the puzzle will remain forever unknown. Maybe he plotted with Sullivan and killed him. The only thing I know for certain is I did not kill him. More now than ever, I wish I had. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. If I could go back in time, I’d end him. Brutally.
Raven gets off the bed and comes over to me. He reaches out to touch my face, then spots the fresh blood covering his hands and retracts it.
“Can you walk, or do you need me to carry you?”
I nod. “I can walk. What’s the plan exactly?”
He shrugs his shoulders like he’s not quite sure.
“Well, I’d prefer if there’s a way out other than the fucking tunnel, but I’m not sure there will be. We are going to take a look around, and you both are going to stick close to me.”
Heather holds the taser up.
“I’m good, I can tase any fucker that tries me.”
Raven lets out an exasperated breath.
“You do realize you can’t out-tase a bullet, right? I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these fuckers had a gun.”
We walk down the hallway, back to the other cell. Both Heather and I wait, while Raven grabs Dr. Martin’s wallet from his pants. He opens it and whistles, when he spots the wad of cash inside.
“This will be helpful until I can get to my money.”
He stuffs the cash into Dr. Martin’s black bag, and Heather stares at him in obvious confusion.
“What about credit cards? I’m sure he’s got money there.”
Raven shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
“Rookie mistake. We’re going to be on the run. We aren’t taking anything that’s traceable. I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend on ever coming back here.”
Heather rolls her eyes, but if Raven notices, he doesn’t say anything.
“Have you broken out of an insane asylum before? You act like you’re experienced.”
He laughs as he looks inside each cell as we walk, verifying they’re empty.
“Asylums, prison, school, but the last one is kind of a long story.”
I’m not sure why I’m surprised he has done time in prison. I shouldn’t be. Surely, a man that skins people alive should not be roaming free, on the streets.
One hallway leads to another, and then a dead end. Raven stops, and stares at the wall with a confused expression on his face.
“This does not look like a normal wall.”
Walking around to the side, he appears to be talking to himself.
“What do we have here?”
Grabbing a security badge from his pocket, he scans it, and doors open in front of my eyes, that were only seconds ago completely invisible.
“Is this how you got here?” Raven asks me, and I shrug my shoulders.
“I was unconscious and woke up in my room. I don’t know how I got here.”
Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me into the elevator with him, and Heather follows behind me.
“Let’s get one thing clear, pretty girl. It was not a room. It was a cell, where you were being held as a prisoner. Stop calling it a fucking room, like it was a place of safety when it was anything but.”
I lower my head, and speak in a low shaky voice.
“Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
I don’t have a chance to respond, but Heather says it for me, and she’s right.
“It’s a fucking trauma response, dick.”