40. Ava
CHAPTER 40
AVA
It’s freezing, and I’d rather be anywhere else right now but approaching the boathouse. The gray pallor of dusk tinges the sky, an icy breeze casting ripples over the lake as I hustle toward the building to escape the chill. Though I’m eager to get inside and warm up, every nerve in my body is screaming for me to turn around and run the hell away from this place.
Too bad I have no choice but to enter.
Ford told me to meet Raf here at eight– something about helping him finish set-up for the Halloween party– and part of me hopes that it’s just an excuse and he’s finally ready to talk; to put all the ugliness of this week behind us and figure out how to move forward amicably.
Wishful thinking, right?
I’m not under any delusions that this isn’t also some sort of trap, and so I’m treading carefully, keeping my eyes up and my senses sharp.
The interior of the boathouse is completely unrecognizable when I pull open the door and step inside. Rather than one large, open space, partitions have been put up to block off the front into a little lobby area, a black wall running the width of the room and tapering down to a single, narrow entrance.
Not ominous at all.
The words ‘Enter If You Dare’ are scrawled over the doorway in bright yellow spray paint, an invitation and an omen. I clasp my hands together to contain their nervous tremble as I edge toward the opening, stepping into a dark corridor and peering around anxiously.
“Raf?” I call, footsteps echoing as I hesitantly move deeper inside. It feels like this place is completely deserted, and the close walls and lack of light are more than a little disorienting. The floor creaks beneath my weight and I stop, heart thudding like it wants to escape my chest.
“Ava,” Raf growls, his voice low and silky.
I flinch, a startled sound catching in my throat as he steps out of the shadows just ahead of me, eyes glinting in the half-light behind a macabre skull mask.
“Raf, you scared me,” I breathe, unable to shake the feeling of foreboding curling deep in my gut. “Ford said you needed help with something?”
“Come with me,” he orders, turning around and walking deeper into the dark labyrinth without another word.
His command hangs grimly in the air, and I swear I can almost feel the icy grip of it on my neck as I force my feet to move. The tall partitions are set up in a confusing grid to form a maze of narrow passageways that open up to various rooms. I peer inside them as we pass, each scene more elaborate than the last.
An insane asylum. A meat locker. A circus for deranged clowns. I follow Raf hesitantly through the cramped passageways, past open doorways and tight corridors that wind and turn back on themselves. If he’s trying to disorient me, it’s working– I have no idea how deep inside the boathouse we are, no clue how to get back out of this haunted house from hell.
“So, what do you think?” Raf murmurs, coming to a stop and glancing back at me.
We’re in some sort of room with no ceiling, just tall black walls rising around us. It’s set up to look like a gruesome operating room, bloody sheets draped over metal gurneys and tables scattered with sharp surgical instruments.
“It’s…” I hesitate, swallowing thickly. “ Elaborate .”
Raf suddenly turns around and steps in closer, his massive build towering over me as he peers down into my eyes through the wide sockets of his creepy skull mask. “Ready to change into your costume?”
A shiver tracks up my spine at the gravel in his voice, skin prickling with anxiety.
“Here?” I croak, glancing around in trepidation.
He nods slowly, watching me as if he’s trying to gauge whether I’ll cooperate. There’s nowhere to hide, no doors to close. Just his eyes on me and mine staring back, wide and unsure.
“Uh, okay,” I whisper, nodding numbly. “Sure, I guess.”
I can’t see Raf’s mouth behind his mask, but I swear I see his eyes smile with a sinister promise.
My fingers work the buttons of my coat and I shrug it off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor and pool around my feet. Then I kick off my shoes, sucking in a breath as I grab for the hem of my sweater and pull it off over my head. It occurs to me that I’ve gotten way too comfortable undressing for the Kings as I continue to strip down, shoving my leggings down my thighs and stepping out of them, skin erupting in goosebumps.
Raf’s dark eyes flicker over my body, taking in the black bra and panty set I’m wearing. “All of it,” he snaps.
I hesitate, but only for a second. He’s already seen me, and it’s just the two of us in this bizarre Halloween attraction. I’m only changing into a costume, and I have no doubt that if I don’t take my own underwear off, he’ll relieve me of it himself.
I reach behind my back and unhook my bra, slipping it off my shoulders.
I tuck my thumbs in the waistband of my panties and slide them down my hips.
“Put these on,” Raf directs in a clipped tone, extending a hand in my direction to offer me a pair of white cotton briefs.
I snatch them up, instantly recognizing them as my own. I’m not even gonna ask when or why he was in my room, going through my underwear drawer. Stepping in, I quickly yank them up my legs, heart beating a riot in my chest as I look to Raf again. He’s watching me carefully, my face burning until his stony gaze.
“Can I have the rest of it?” I ask shakily, holding out a hand in demand.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, pivots toward the wall where a tangle of leather straps dangles like dead snakes, reaching up to give them a sharp tug, as if to test their strength.
My stomach twists.
“Come here, Ava,” he commands, his voice rough.
Fear tightens around my throat like a noose, my blood turning to ice in my veins.
“Don’t make me ask twice.”
I fold my arms over my chest to cover myself, darting nervous glances left and right while frantically trying to map out an exit route. But I’m almost fully naked, stuck in the middle of a maze with no clue how to get out. Raf’s a King, and he gave me an order. I’m expected to follow it without question, but I’m fucking terrified right now.
I startle at the harsh rasp of his throat clearing, choking on a gasp as my feet start to move. The floor is like ice beneath my bare soles as I step toward him, his eyes burning into mine, so dark they’re almost black.
His fingers curl around my wrist, lifting it and using his other hand to wind a leather strap around and pull it tight.
“What am I doing here?” I whisper, panic clawing at my insides as he brings my other hand up to join the first, binding my wrists together.
He ignores my question, but I already know what’s coming next, just like I know I’m helpless to stop it. I’m trapped in my stepbrother’s grip, at the mercy of a monster.
It all happens so fast. He yanks at the straps, pushing me toward the wall. My arms get yanked over my head as he strings me up, securing me tight, descending into a crouch to secure my ankles to the wall next. His fingers brush my skin as the leather straps bite into it, and all I can hear is my own breathing, too hard, too fast.
“What were you trying to do with that paper, Ava?” he asks, his voice an eerie monotone. “Expose me, right?”
My pulse pounds harder as he moves around my body, tightening each restraint. “Point out every crack, every flaw?” he continues, eyes darkening as he steps back to take in the sight of me strung up against the wall. “Now it’s time to do that to you.”
I start trembling as his gaze lingers on me, fear creeping up my spine.
Is this it?
Is this when he finally decides to punish me, to fuck me while I’m helpless and tied and can’t do anything about it?
Horrifyingly, some part of me almost wants him to, almost wishes he’d just get it over with so he can stop wielding it against me as a fear tactic and finally cut the ever-present tension between us.
But it doesn’t happen. Instead, I hear the click of approaching footsteps, a whole new kind of panic setting in.
“Ah, right on time,” Raf drawls as Chelsea and Blair appear in the doorway, looking way too damn pleased to be joining us. He glances toward Chelsea, brow furrowing. “Where’s Stella?”
“Saint Stella decided to sit this one out,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she moves toward him. A smug smile stretches her lips as her gaze flickers past Raf toward me, eyes burning with amusement. “Don’t worry,” she purrs, tapping a palm against his hard chest. “We’ve got this.”
“Do it right, and you can come out of exile,” Raf mumbles, shoving a hand into his pocket and pulling out a fistful of markers. He offers them to Chelsea, but when she goes to take them, he holds on, leaning in with a savage glare. “Remember,” he growls, “only the marker touches her skin.”
I see a flicker of anger cross Chelsea’s features, but she quickly schools her expression, nodding back at him.
Raf turns to glance over at me one last time, then relinquishes his grip on the markers, taking a step back. “She’s all yours then, girls.”
His words hit me like a spray of bullets, the depth of his depravity fully sinking in as he stalks out of the room, leaving me with the pair of blondes. Chelsea clutches the markers to her chest with a triumphant smirk, her gaze sweeping over my bare body like a predator picking a spot to sink its teeth in.
“Oh, honey,” she sighs, clucking her tongue and shaking her head. “Where do we even start?”
Blair giggles, reaching out to snatch a marker out of her friend’s hand. “I say we start with those hips,” she remarks, popping off the cap and moving toward me.
I could scream, I could struggle, but what’s the fucking point ? I’m tied up tight, and Raf just abandoned me here in the center of a maze with his psycho ex-girlfriend. Nothing or nobody can save me. I have no choice but to endure whatever comes.
Blair reaches out to draw a dotted line up my bare skin, marking me up with purple ink like a plastic surgery candidate. “These hips are wide enough to steer a fucking boat through,” she comments cruelly as she traces a more slender shape.
“What about that spare tire?” Chelsea snorts, reaching in with another marker to make a line on my belly. “Disgusting.”
Their criticism slices away my confidence like razor blades as they circle and scribble, my body turning into a mess of lines and arrows. They stand too close, cackling to one another as they point out flaw after flaw.
“Your nose is too long,” Chelsea scoffs, the tip of her marker scratching across my face. “And your chin’s so pointy.”
Each word is a slap, each mark a bruise.
“Lines are getting boring,” Blair sighs, tossing her marker aside and grabbing another. “Let’s do some labels.”
Chelsea’s eyes light up like she loves that idea.
“Filthy slut,” Blair murmurs, teeth biting into her lower lip with concentration as she writes it across my chest with the marker.
Chelsea shoulders Blair out of the way, dropping into a crouch. “W-H-O-R-E,” she spells out as she writes the letters across my underwear, the purple ink bleeding into the cotton.
That word sears like a brand. I try to go somewhere else in my mind, somewhere far away from here, but it’s no use…
A few choice words later, they let their markers drop to the floor,smug looks on their faces as they stand back to admire their work.
“Much better,” Chelsea clucks, nodding in satisfaction. Her blue eyes narrow on me coldly. “This is what you really are, Ava. Trash. Just a dirty whore to use and abuse. You’re nobody . You’re nothing .”
Hot tears prick behind my eyes, and I squeeze them shut to keep them from falling. I won’t give them that satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“The Kings will see that soon enough,” Chelsea continues, huffing a breath. “You’re just a hole for them to fuck. You’ll never be what they really need. What Raf needs.”
I don’t open my eyes again until I hear the fade of their receding footsteps. I’m all alone now, hanging here naked and trembling with every imperfection circled in ink, scribbles of hate etched into my skin.
I don’t know how long I’ve been strung up here like this, the leather straps cutting into my wrists, my shoulders burning in agony. I stopped shivering from the cold a while ago, but I’m still shaking as I nervously wait for the first wave of people to find me. The Halloween party is in full swing, shouts and screams echoing off the walls, getting closer with each breathless moment. Music is pumping somewhere in the distance, the bass beat rattling the floor, vibrating up the wall I’m pinned against to my bare skin. Apparently I’m supposed to look like a willing participant in this sick horror show, but I’m just drowning under the crushing weight of regret.
Footsteps draw closer, a rush of co-eds stampeding through the makeshift hallways, their voices growing louder. It won’t be long until they find me like this, strung up on display and covered in derogatory slurs. This isn’t a haunted house, it’s a fucking torture chamber, and my heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to give out.
The first people rush into the room, loud and breathless, their eyes going wide when they look over and see me. My first instinct is to shrink into a ball and hide, but all I can do is hang my head, letting my hair fall around my face to cover my shame.
“Holy shit, is that a real girl?”
“She’s naked! Look at her!”
“Oh fuck, is that the Doll?”
Their eyes are all over me, eating up every inch of my marked-up skin.
“No wonder they made us turn in our phones,” some guy snorts, chuckling to himself. “I’d give anything to take a picture of that right now.”
They laugh, and I bite back tears, hating Raf even more than I thought possible. By the time the assholes finally move on, my whole body is shaking with anger and humiliation. I hate this place, these people, this life I’ve been shoved into.
New footsteps. New voices. I brace myself, each breath a gasp, my arms numb and useless. They snicker to one another, then scamper away to move onto the next spectacle, another group entering right after them. I hear them react as they take in the sight of me, and it hits me all over again how completely exposed I am.
“She’s hot.”
My stomach twists.
“Like those porn bondage chicks.”
“Nice tits, sweetheart.”
“Eh, they could be bigger.”
“What’d you just say about my girl, dipshit?” Ford growls, stepping out of the shadows like a phantom. He whips open his butterfly knife, flipping it around with practiced precision. “Get the fuck out of here or I’ll give you a free appendectomy.”
I lift my head just in time to see the color drain from the dude’s face, he and his friends running for their damn lives, disappearing around the corner and leaving me alone with Ford.
He flicks the blade closed with a sharp snap, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside me as his lips tip into a smirk. “Hey there, Ava baby.”
I stare back at him with wide, hopeful eyes, feeling a pitiful sob choke in my throat.
“Believe it or not, I actually tried to talk Raf out of this,” he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. He’s not wearing a costume, but he’s intimidating enough to look at without one.
“Then why…” I start to ask, my voice is small and desperate. “Will you let me go?”
Ford gives me a look that’s almost pitying, jerking his chin sideways. “No can do, Ava baby.”
Fresh tears sting my eyes, carving a hot path against my cold cheeks. “I can’t do this, Ford,” I whimper, lower lip wobbling. “I can’t.”
He tilts his head as he looks me up and down, like I’m a painting he’s deciding whether to hang or throw out. “Sure you can,” he replies with a nod, stepping in front of me and bracketing my face with his hands. He leans in close, tongue darting out to lick the tears from my cheeks.
It’s so bizarre when he does that, but right now, it’s also oddly comforting.
“Own it,” he states, pulling back to stare into my eyes. “Nobody will know this is a punishment unless you show them that it is.”
My brows draw in, mind struggling to grasp ahold of whatever advice he’s trying to impart. “Own it?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Act like it’s part of the show. That’s what this is, right? Your big performance.”
His fingertips coast over my skin as he runs them up the front of my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I can’t tell if I’m shivering from the cold or from the way he touches me. Ford sweeps my hair over my breasts, covering them just enough to be decent. Then he takes a step back to give me a once-over, and I don’t know whether to scream at him or thank him.
I don’t have a chance to do either, because Wes comes storming in like a demon, face contorting with rage when he sees the way I’m strung up on display. “What the hell?” he roars, gray eyes blazing as rushes toward me. “The fuck is going on here?!”
“Calm down,” Ford mutters, still perfectly cool and collected.
“Calm down? How the fuck are you gonna tell me to calm down when Ava’s–”
His voice cuts off as Ford shoves his shoulder to push him back, Wes whipping a murderous glare on his friend. “Why didn’t you assholes tell me about this?”
“Raf thinks you’re going soft on her, said you’d freak out if we told you,” Ford states, as if it should be obvious.
“I’m not going soft,” Wes snaps, though there’s a flash of anger and doubt in his eyes as he jerks his head back in my direction. “We have to get her down.”
“We can’t ,” Ford says sternly, grabbing Wes by the shoulder and turning him his way. The two of them stare at each other, their silence a language all its own, but I’m too cold and humiliated to care. I just want out of this nightmare, and if there’s a chance Wes might help…
A shrill scream cuts through the lull of quiet, footsteps pounding in our direction. The next group is headed this way.
“Get out of here,” Ford grumbles, shoving Wes toward a small opening in the corner of the room– the same sly, hidden entrance that he used to gain entry. “We’ll talk later.”
Wes jerks a last look at me, anger still simmering in his stormy gray eyes. “I’ll be back,” he promises, hesitating for just long enough that a spark of hope ignites within me. Then he bolts, quickly snuffing it out.
A group of students rounds the corner, their eyes all locking on me. My cheeks flame, but then I think of Ford’s words, of Wes’s look of fury, of the cold bite of the leather straps holding me down. I pull together everything I have and try to find the strength to make it through this.
I smile at my audience, lips stretching too wide and wild as I give them my best Harley Quinn impersonation. Their eyes fly wide, their expressions suddenly unsure as they glance at one another apprehensively.
“Who wants to see her bleed?” Ford snarls as he steps forward, playing the part to perfection. “You?” He jabs the tip of his knife in a girl’s direction and they all jump back with a startled gasp.
“W-what are you gonna do to her?” another girl asks shakily.
Ford grins maniacally. “She volunteered for a little plastic surgery,” he drawls, spinning the knife in his hand with a mad glint in his eye. “She can’t wait for her procedure.”
They’re backing away, their shock and disbelief mixing with fear and fascination. I almost want to laugh at how stupid this is, at how terrible and unreal it all feels.
The group runs off, footsteps pounding down the corridor, and my chest loosens a little. Maybe Ford was right. Maybe if I pretend hard enough, that can override the shame.
He stalks over to me and leans in, his face so close to mine that my eyes cross. “Can’t stay, Ava baby. But keep it up. You’re a natural.”
The tip of his knife grazes my skin, the cold steel tracing a line across my collarbone. I hiss a breath in through my teeth as it dips in, drawing a tiny drop of blood at the point of the blade. Ford’s grin is feral as he leans in, drawing his tongue across my skin and licking it away.
I shiver, and I hate that I don’t know whether it’s from fear or arousal.
Ford’s hazel eyes gleam as he gives me one last, long look. Then he’s gone, and I’m left all alone again, the echo of incoming footsteps stealing my breath. They’re getting louder, and I know there’s no escape. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe if I stop trying to escape, it won’t feel like I’m trapped.
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the next wave. People turn the corner and gasp, while I force my head up and a smile onto my lips.
More and more of them come, gazing upon me with horror and fascination, but I try to stay above it, playing the part Ford gave me. I’m getting good at this, at faking it, at letting them mold me into their perfect little doll. I hate it, and I hate them. I don’t even realize I’m crying until the tears reach my mouth and I taste the salt. They keep coming, no matter how hard I smile, but it plays right into my role, making me look even more goddamn deranged.
‘Nobody will know this is a punishment unless you show them that it is.’
I hope he’s right.