Chapter 17
She’s in the long stretch of field that stands in front of her childhood home. The tall grass swaying to and fro in the waning daylight. The breeze tugs at her wild hair, blowing it over her black eye as she shuffles towards home. A sense of unwillingness rots in her bones, each step echoing with reluctance.
Her home isn’t much. Two stories, a roof that has seen better days, and a front porch with a ragged swing. The horizon spreads beyond the lonely home, fields and fields. The road is close by and the drive to their small town center is at about ten minutes.
A figure awaits her, making her chest feel tight with anxiety. She has no choice; she must return. Hiding out in the field won’t earn her any points. Besides, he already got her good with his mean right hook, what more can he truly do?
Perhaps his anger has cooled. Numbly, she walks her way through the tall grass as if going to her executioner.
On the front porch, Charlie Hayes sits on the wooden swing, eyes like the abyss itself. Watching and waiting just for her. He doesn’t speak a single word, that temper boiling just under the surface. Kara can practically feel it burning against her flesh. He is violence barely contained.
The memory doesn’t continue as Kara recalls it happening. The way he took off his belt and told her to go inside. The stinging pain, the sound of the belt landing on the small of her back, the way she bit her lip to not give him the satisfaction of her crying out-
It doesn’t happen. Instead, he stands and comes at her with those ominous, rage-filled eyes. He grabs her wrist in a bruising fashion, so tight that the bones must be crunching together. He leans down close as she trembles with fear, because this never happened, this isn’t real-
Charlie’s voice is a low chocolate menace. “When do you plan on coming home, Kara? You know I miss you. You’ve been hiding.”
Her eyes open and instinctively she lifts a hand to her face, to feel if her eye is as swollen as it felt in her dream. It’s not; a small relief. At least her dream didn’t go to the part where he whipped her back with that damn belt of his. To how her mother made herself scarce.
Kara bites back a sound of dismay, trying to erase the dream from memory.
You’ve been hiding.
She knows what her mind is telling her. Her father called her when it was made known he was being investigated for embezzlement. He wanted her to come to him, to bail him out of trouble, just due to the fact of him being her father. Instead, Gale was able to take that on for representation and has been handling the bits and pieces for the past few months.
It hasn’t gone forward yet, but Kara knows her father has asked for her to come to him. She hasn’t. Can’t bring herself to face the man that so changed her life. The man who caused the death of her mother, the man who played his wife and daughter against each other, the man who ruined her ability to love like a normal human being.
I hate you , she finds herself thinking as she sits in the center of her bed, head bowing as she blinks back tears. I hate you for what you did to me. I hate you for never loving me the way you should have.
Her mind is a mess as her heart pounds, unable to come down from the nightmare, the ugly memory lurking in her mind. Charlie Hayes is the monster that made her into this twisted thing, this young woman incapable of finding normal love.
Every time she found a healthy relationship, she found a way to poison it, to make it feel like something she deserved.
Hating the sorrow and self-loathing in her breast, Kara rolls over to grab her phone off the nightstand, suddenly wishing to speak to someone who might just understand. There’s only one man that can, only one man who knows what lies behind her mask.
She dials the unknown number in her phone, the one she still knows even if no name is attached to it. After a few rings, he eventually picks up, much to her relief. His voice is thick with sleep as he says, “Twice in one night? I imagine this must be a misdial. I don’t believe for one second that I’m the man you think of in the middle of the night when you have a bad dream. You’re not that weak.”
There’s a sob caught in her throat; her emotions are raw after re-living that horrible memory, knowing exactly where it led in real life. “You’d be surprised. Maybe you’re the only one I can think of to call when I have nightmares.”
Silence falls for a painfully awkward moment as he digests her words, the tremble in her voice.
“ Oh . You’re actually serious,” Nick says with a hint of surprise leaking into his perfectly controlled tone. The way he usually hides his emotions so completely. “You called me. ” He seems dumbfounded by this. Kara supposes that makes sense, considering all the fighting they’ve been doing, but doesn’t he understand? He’s seen her brokenness before.
He’d been there the day her father called her after years of silence. Nick had seen how brutally Charlie reduced her to a shaking mess. He’d heard the cruelties her father spewed.
“Well.” She sniffs audibly. “I think you understand what I have nightmares about. Or who, better yet.” After a second, she realizes how stupid this all is, calling him . “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. You’re probably with Claire-”
“She’s not here. Same as always,” Nick says evenly, keeping her on the phone. “We never did get to talk about…your father.” The sleep is slowly fading from his voice. “Before we stopped seeing each other. I remember that phone call. Has he always been like that?”
A bitter laugh escapes Kara’s lips. She must sound like she’s drowning. “Worse. So much worse . My whole life, we walked on eggshells around him. Never wanting to set him off. And Charlie is such a cunning lizard of a man, able to be what he knows people will like, for as long as he needs to in order to draw them in. He drew my mother into his web so tight that the only way she could truly leave him was in a coffin.”
Blood and razorblades, spilled across the floor for Kara to find.
“She’s not you,” Nick tells her neutrally, as if trying to not send her into a screaming fit. “Tell me about what he did to you.”
What did he do to you, Kara? What did your father do, the man who was supposed to protect you and keep you safe, the man who-
Weeknights spent listening to him degrade them both over dinner, about the way the chicken was cooked. How he would teach her how to dance with her feet on his, Charlie’s eyes eating up her adoration of the simple act of kindness. The sting of his belt and her face against the porch. The smell of alcohol heavy on his breath when he kissed her goodnight on her forehead sweetly, just before he went to his bedroom where her mother cried as his palm met her face-
Nick once said to her, the darkest parts of you are what I want . Kara still holds on to that, this small little hope that some man doesn’t care how messed up she is.
“He abused us.” Her voice is a whisper. “And not just verbally, but physically too. I learned how to hide my bruises young. The worst damage he inflicted wasn’t physical. Those are wounds no one can see.” She blows her nose into a tissue briefly, trying to get ahold of herself. Her chest feels lighter, admitting this to someone other than a professional. “He would worm his way deep under the skin, make you want his love. You would want it, so entirely that it would become your entire purpose. And then, he would crush you. Repeatedly. ”
There’s a deep sigh from the other end of the line. Nick’s voice is soft when he starts to say, “Kara-”
It sounds like he might just actually
start in on some form of pity for her. That’s something she can’t abide. Not from Nick.
“Tell me something about you,” she blurts, hating herself for wanting some sort of connection. Some sort of way to prove to herself that she’s not the only one that’s messed up. She knows there has to be something in his past to make him the way he is. “Something horrible.”
She knows he has secrets and the last person she wants to find them out from is Dieter, because who knows how he’ll twist whatever knowledge he has. She wants Nick to tell her.
“This isn’t a sharing circle,” Nick tells her, no real push-back in his voice. “Believe it or not, but I don’t get off on trauma-dumping to others in the middle of the night. Not my modus operandi .”
A prickle of hurt tightens her throat. This man and his true self, locked away so no one can ever see. He never changes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you don’t do feelings. I won’t bother you-”
“You misunderstand me,” Nick replies. She can hear his sheets shifting and she can imagine being in that bedroom that smells of him and his mouthwatering cologne. The pang of missing him suffocates her. The feel of his hands, the power in his shoulders. The taste of his mouth. “You can tell me whatever you want. I’ll listen to whatever horrors you have locked up in your pretty little head. I can face any of it. I just won’t be reciprocating.”
Kara scowls at the wall. Isn’t that just the story of her life with the men that suck her right in? No emotional reciprocation…
You find men that remind you of Charlie, silly girl. His condition makes it hard to love, even though he desires love.
Despite all that she knows about Nick, Kara wants to find some sort of common ground. Something to tie them together that isn’t just their shared sick passion for nonconsensual fantasies. “Why not? What if it helps you feel better about-”
“What do you want me to feel better about, Kara?” His even tone of voice is beginning to weird her out. It gives her the sense that he’s dissociating from something. She’d never thought that about him before and it surprises her.
“You once told me you understood what it meant to grow up in a tough situation-”
“And if you also recall, you were quick to tell me that it could be nothing like your own tragic villain backstory.” He makes a noise that comes off as self-depreciating. She imagines he’s smirking unhappily, all stern lines and a stone-cut face. “You were right. It isn’t .” His voice dips on the last words ominously.
“Please, Nick.” Kara is glad to be focused on him now and not her unpleasant past. “Just give me something to work with. What happened to you? I want to be here for you. I won’t judge-”
“I’m not a victim for you to piece together. There’s nothing to talk about.” That flat tone returns, eerie. “There’s nothing that needs to be fixed, only forgotten. There’s nothing about me that can be fixed.”
“You know, that’s exactly what men say when someone has harmed them,” Kara says bitterly. “They find ways to pretend it wasn’t real, that they aren’t a victim, that they aren’t impacted. All methods of coping that aren’t healthy.”
“I get by just fine,” he tells her softly. “Do you?”
The nerve of this man. She wants to tell him that picking up working girls and paying them to say ‘no’ isn’t getting by just fine . That being a member of a private fetish sex club to fuel that same need isn’t okay . “What do you think, Nick? Clearly, I’m a raging mess of a human being. Having nightmares about things I wish I never experienced. You-”
She knows the moment he wants to deflect from the conversation. She’s getting too close to a raw nerve.
“Are you in bed?” His voice drops an octave, a hint of huskiness entering his tone. It causes a flicker of heat to shift into being low in her gut.
Confused by where this might be going, Kara drawls, “Where else would I be after a nightmare? Under the bed?”
“You a nightgown sort of girl?”
“I live alone, so no, I sleep however I damn well please,” Kara replies, unamused. Sometimes that doesn’t include many clothes.
“You should be careful doing that.” There’s an odd edge in his voice. Such a sudden shift that Kara’s head spins. There’s something about his tone that is almost hot, dark and predatory. “You never know what sort might crawl in through your window at night, when you’re sleeping. Do you ever imagine what it would be like to wake up with someone in your room, standing over you? On you ?”
The image the words give is dangerous. Horrifying and enticing in the sickest of ways. She imagines that’s what he wants. He wants that edge of fear to turn into something dark and unnatural. The way it’s always been between them. Worse yet, he knows she’s got some freak stalking her window at night…he knows this is a fear he can twist .
“That wouldn’t go well for the sorry bastard who sneaks into my place.” Her pulse is hot, fluttering. “I would stab him with the knife I keep under my pillow.” She doesn’t keep a knife under her pillow, but maybe she should. She has a stalker, after all.
The idea of it makes her heart rate pick up. Fear, horror, and strange desire molding into a mental fantasy with a faceless man, making her enjoy something terrible against her will, against her better judgement-
Nick exhales real slow, trying to temper some rush of emotion. Arousal, perhaps? “He’d already be on you, straddling your hips. A gloved hand over your mouth.” His voice is a rough whisper. “It’s too late, Kara. He’s going to take you and use you however he wants. You’re powerless to stop it. All you can do is try to keep your legs closed before he gets between them.”
Her breathing shifts as the image in her head begins to take form in the darkness of her room. The phantom in her mind becomes him , some masked figure pinning her on the bed. The revulsion, the dismay. The dark passion that draws her to it.
A weight pinning her down, a hard cock pressing against her between layers of clothes, insistent. She’s helpless, defenseless against such iron strength. It’s wrong, it’s so utterly wrong-
“I wouldn’t make it easy,” she tells Nick, sounding breathless. “I’d fight him. I wouldn’t just take it. I’d bite, I’d scratch. I’d make him bleed.”
“Fight all you want; it won’t make any difference,” Nick retorts. His voice is thick and there’s the sound of his breathing growing heavier. “Put up your best defense. It’s exciting to watch you lose .”
“You bastard,” she utters as she lies down on her back, imagining the weight of someone heavier holding her in place. Keeping her pinned. Their large hands, fondling her breasts. Feeling her body as if it’s theirs to play with. “You’re sick, getting off on helpless women-”
“Are you helpless, baby?” The words coming from his mouth make her insides tremble.
“Never.” Sometimes. When he’s like this, making her nipples grow taut, making the place between her thighs ache with a forbidden want. To be taken, ruined.
When she hears the sound of flesh on flesh through the earpiece, Kara makes a soft sound of want, her center growing slick. He’s…he’s pleasuring himself, thinking of her being held down and taken against her will. Probably thinking of himself as the masked stranger, forcing himself on her.
The same thought is in her head.
The phantom in her mind is Nick, and the thought of him being here, masked and gloved, taking control of her makes her want to be used. Her hand drifts down her body, across her erect nipples, making her gasp. Travels further down below-
“Are you touching yourself?” He asks her, voice thicker than blood.
Fingers working, stroking, pressing, rubbing. Humping against her hand desperately. Oh, it’s, it’s perfect, it’s wrong. “ N-no .” Kara lies with a large hint of shame, hating herself for being sucked into his words.
She can almost hear his smile on the other end of the line.
“You should. It’s the only way you’ll cum. He won’t touch you there, where you want him to. You’re just a thing to him, a hot fuckhole. He wants to fill you, to use you-”
“Oh, God.” Her fingers delve within, gathering slickness to use on her clit.
He grunts briefly, the wet sound of him working his cock filling her senses. She wants to taste him. “He’ll put you on your stomach. Pin you down while he works his cock against your sweet ass. He’s going to plug you up, deep and hard. He’s been waiting for a good screw and he needs your tight cunt for relief.”
Heat coils low as Kara rolls onto her stomach, phone on speaker, his voice filling the space. Her hand slides down again as her fingers find her slick center, dripping with want. Kara arches her back and gasps, wanting to be filled. “I need-”
“You need a big cock in you. Spreading you wide. Are you on your front for him? Knees spread?”
“Yes,” Kara rasps, chasing the sensations at each of her nerve endings as she plays with herself, rubbing her nether lips, pressing down on her sensitive bud.
“Good girl. Let him use you while you beg him to stop. Squeeze his cock as he rides you-”
“I don’t want to like it,” she utters breathlessly, writhing on her bed shamelessly. Her hips shift, grinding down against her digits. A gush of wetness makes her slicker, the sounds filling the space. She can hear Nick grunting quietly into the phone. She can imagine him alone in bed, fisting his girth, arm working. Sweat on his firm chest. “I hate myself for wanting it.”
“I bet you’re wet for it. Dripping.” The sound of flesh on flesh grows louder, as if he’s stroking himself harder as he speaks his filth to her. “It humiliates you, the way you push back to take more. To be filled by that thick cock.”
Kara gasps, pressing her face against the sheets. Presses two fingers deep within. Pleasure, unfurling. “Where’s he going to cum? In me? Please, please don’t-”
There’s a growl in his voice as he replies, “You’re not good enough to cum in. I’ll cum on your ass, across your back. A big load, a mess to leave you in, like the slut you are.” A loud groan. “Make you taste it-”
Kara splits open, euphoria zipping out of her center to the rest of her body as she shatters, crying out his name. There’s an answering hiss and shout on the other end of the line, and Kara imagines him shooting his seed wantonly across his sheets, imagining her helpless, pinned form beneath him.
Soon, the only sound is their mingled, harsh breathing.
“Did you…?” She asks him, feeling shy and ashamed. Why are they both the sickest people she knows? Why does it work?
His breathing still sounds rough and it makes her mind spin. “Yeah.”
“ Oh .” Kara closes her eyes and tries to not regret it already. Why is she this fucked up? To get off on the idea of a masked stranger taking her like that? “That was…”
A slight chuckle that warms her. “ Yeah . It was.”
Biting her lower lip, Kara tries to make herself seem like a decent person. “For the record. I didn’t call you with that in mind.” Shame eats at the edges of her mind. “We shouldn’t have-”
“Don’t bother with the guilt trip, it won’t work on me. Besides, this is off the record, sweetpea. Have sweeter dreams,” he rasps, his tone rich with satisfaction. The phone goes silent as he hangs up the call, successfully avoiding speaking about himself completely with his little stunt.
It’s his nature to distract from anything that might lead to a true emotional connection. To anything that might lead her to knowing him, the part of him that Nick keeps hidden.
What are you so afraid of telling me? Anyone?
Rolling onto her back, Kara stares up at the ceiling fan, watching it spin in slow motion. Sweat cools on her body, the place between her legs swollen and sticky. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
When she falls asleep, she finds herself without dreams.