6. Carter
SIX
CARTER
Thirteen days.
In thirteen short says I’ll be a married woman, although Tyson showing up unexpectedly gave me that last shred of hope I didn’t fucking want.
After he slipped out of the massage room, my heart swelled with ideas, how he could possibly swoop in and save me from the impending nuptials, but nine days later, I wish he hadn’t even come.
When you don’t sleep, eat, or fucking feel like a human being, nine days is a long time to dream about rescue.
At this point, I find myself imagining things as if I were a Princess, waiting for the knights in shining armor to save me, even though I always swore I never needed saving.
My father has reduced me to a little girl who lives in the mindset of fairytales, a place where I’ll be saved from the dreadful reality I’ve been forced into, but even in my head, a savior swooping in to save the day seems unlikely.
I’m back to my old coping mechanisms, daydreaming about all the ways to finish the job, and I’ll never allow myself to feel hopeful again, fully succumbing to the ideas in my mind that allow me to find the silver lining in every cycle of days I’m forced to live.
Admittedly, I was going to kill myself that day, jump from the fucking roof of the building and end my misery, but Tyson brought me something I wish I could return: optimism.
Too many days have passed, and I’ve spent all twenty-four hours during each of them wondering if my father found him first, or if he changed his mind, determining that I’m not worth saving after all.
I missed my first opportunity, but I promise, the next time I see my final exit, I’m taking it, no matter who shows up or tries to breathe fresh life back into my numb, hollowed body.
“More fucking effort. Jesus Christ, it’s like getting a blowjob from a corpse.” Vincent yanks at my hair, pulling from the roots as he shoves my face into his crotch, and I stick my tongue out, offering the smallest semblance of compliance I can muster.
Even thinking about death while sucking him off brings no comfort, especially since everything I’ve ever imagined while wrapping my lips around his cock never brings me a sliver of joy.
“That’s it, little lady. Fucking swallow like the perfect cock sucker you are,” he grunts, the jerky thrusts showing he’s almost finished, and I squeeze my eyes shut, begging for the payoff so I can spit his seed down the drain and go back to fantasizing about my own demise.
“You’re going to make the perfect little wife, Carter.
You’re already so fucking sweet.” He slaps both of my cheeks as I swallow around him, the salty seed spewing into my mouth as I remind myself not to gag, knowing how much he hates that, and the bruised cheek I got last time I behaved in a way he didn’t like.
Instead, I pretend to swallow, flexing my throat until he’s satisfied, but running off to the bathroom attached to our office and immediately spitting his disgusting juices right down the sink.
After a few minutes, the door opens and slams shut behind me, and I brace for impact, thinking that Vincent saw through my ruse, prepared for the beating he’s about to lay down.
Thankfully, with our very public wedding coming in less than two weeks, he’ll avoid any place on my skin that would leave visible bruises.
“Found you, my little traitor,” a voice says, and I try to spin around, to put a face to that sound, but before I can move, a gloved hand wraps around my nose and mouth.
Attempting to fight back, I use what little strength is left in my body, but it’s useless, and eventually, I just give up, allowing whoever it is to snatch me up without an issue.
As my eyes flutter shut, only one thought runs through my mind, like a decimated record on repeat.
Take me, do whatever you please with my still-breathing corpse, but at the end of it all I only have one request: just fucking kill me.
I can feel, but I can’t see.
My arms are pinned up, like my body is tethered to a cross, but I pretend to be asleep, allowing my legs to be spread, accepting the fact that I’ll likely be hurt in the process of whatever is happening.
I can smell, but I can’t see.
The place reeks of mold, like water settling in a space where it’ll never fully dry, and I’m immediately transported back to the basement, fully accepting that my father is probably behind this imprisonment.
I can hear, but I can’t see.
I’m not the only person in this room, the air feeling heavier as I inhale a sharp breath, and the footsteps surround me like a shark circling its prey.
Although I’m not alone, and the presence around me is threatening, something in me doesn’t feel afraid, my body not thinking we’re in danger.
As hard as I try, my vision won’t come back, and I realize there’s fabric covering my eyes, a memory sweeping me under as I come to terms with my predicament.
The blindfold isn’t itchy, it resembles a soft hug, just like the satin ones Tyson used on me when we’d play a little rough.
“Tyson? Jasper?” I call out, hoping I’m right, because using those names and being wrong would almost certainly result in a serious punishment.
In my bones, I know I’m right, and even though it’s been months since I last saw him, Jasper is here somewhere. I can sense him, even smell the blood-thirsty demon that lives inside him, and I know that particular phenomenon he’s feeling is a direct result of finally finding me.
For the first time, I’m his victim, and I can feel the tension in the air as he attempts to stuff it down just enough to be able to handle me without slitting my throat too soon.
“I’ve been looking for you, Carter. Every fucking day for the last six months.
You thought you could just try to kill us and then disappear into the sunset?
” He asks, and his voice instantly sends shockwaves from my head down to my toes, the grumble in his chest igniting a fire I never thought I’d feel again.
“I’m sorry, Jasper. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you have to believe me,” I plead, knowing that convincing him won’t be so easy, especially not for a second time.
Back then, I was lying, but now, every word that leaves my lips is nothing but the cold, hard truth.
“I’ve thought about all the ways this could go, you know?
Someone once said that you can drain the life from a person’s body with tiny pinpricks on the skin, small little cuts that’ll never know what mercy is,” he says, quoting me from the time we tortured the Masseria man together, and I inhale a sharp breath in preparation for whatever it is he has planned.
I’m already half-dead, but if I can heal the places in his soul, that I broke, before he kills me, I’ll finally experience peace before I go.
“Do whatever you want to me. I’m okay with it, as long as you’re the one who ends my life,” I whisper, wishing I could touch him, or look into his eyes while he absorbs my words, but I’m at his mercy, now.
“Tell me the truth. That’s all I want.” He steps closer, the scent of him forcing a wave of memories through my mind, but before I can succumb to my brain’s happy place, I feel a sharp sting along my belly.
He’s playing with me, dragging the tip of a knife along my skin, and I hiss through my teeth, hating how much I love when a blade cuts through my flesh.
Without hesitation, I confess everything that I lied about, and the things I did when I got to Emory.
The scouting, the planning, and even the bullshit sob story about my scars. I spill the details until my mouth runs dry, and my breaths are labored, but he doesn’t interrupt, listening while I outline the crimes I committed before I truly and fully gave them both my heart.
It doesn’t erase what I did, and how badly I deceived the two people who became my entire universe, but damn does it feel good to absolve myself of the guilt I’ve carried for too long.
“You tortured that man in New York, why?” He asks, finally speaking up after what feels like hours of my rambling, but he also slips the satin from my eyes.
My vision adjusts to the bright light as I blink slowly, and take in my surroundings, noting nothing that stands out against the plain brick walls.
“He knew me, and was going to tell the Corazza’s, which would’ve killed our deal.
I was protecting us, while trying to convey the message my father gave me.
It was supposed to be three days, I swear, Jasper.
He lied to me, too,” I cry, the pent up emotions pouring out of my body, but when I finally get a good glimpse at one of the men I love, he doesn’t look at me like he once did.
His icy silver eyes used to light up when our gaze met, but now, the black in his irises has overtaken the unique color, and a fire set on my demise is lit in its place.
“You told me you’d die for us, Carter. All those times you promised that we’d be together until our final breaths, or that you’d lay down your life for mine, you were fucking lying!
” He shouts, the huskiness in his voice vibrating off the walls, and I drop my head against the brick, feeling every ounce of pain I’ve caused him.
He’s spiraling, rehashing every moment of our relationship, and remembering things I forgot that seemed innocent, but stand out as red flags in his mind.
To be fair, I deserve every seed of resentment he carries, because there were days where I lied straight to his face, and he’ll never believe the piles of guilt I carried around with me on a daily basis.
“I’ll die for you, Jasper. Right here, right now.
You need someone to blame for your pain, to absolve it somehow, and I’ll be that for you.
” He stares blankly into my eyes, the first time he’s actually looked at me since removing the blindfold, and his icy silver irises hold nothing but harbored hatred, forcing me to realize just how far my betrayal pushed him off the edge.
“You’re not in charge, Carter,” he says, shaking his head as he turns away from my frail, tied up body, but the final shred of resolve I’ve been holding onto snaps.
“Do it! Please, Jasper, fucking kill me! Right now, with no witnesses around, just fucking put an end to my miserable life,” I beg, tears streaming down my face as the man I gave half of my heart to presents the one thing I’ve wanted every single day for the past half year.
In a second, he rips the gun from his waistband, cocking it and pressing the barrel to my forehead, and I audibly sigh in relief, more than prepared to reach the pinnacle of my desperate dreams.
“This is for my father, Tyson’s, and every-fucking-thing you stole from him,” he grunts, and I can’t stop the smile cascading across my face, more than ready to face my maker and atone for every sin I’ve committed in this lifetime.
One day, Jasper, we’ll find each other again.
My final thoughts are much happier than I assumed they’d be, but with him being the one to carry out my death sentence, there’s nothing better I could ask for as I finally cross the bridge to a different universe.
A few moments pass, and then a couple more, but I can sense his hesitation, like he’s battling an internal war inside his head, and rather than bargain, I choose to push him right over the edge.
“Pull the trigger. Pull the fucking trigger! Do it, Jasper! I want you to be the one to pull that damn trigger, please, do me one last favor, and fucking kill me!” I scream at the top of my lungs, absolving him of any guilt, and for the final time, his eyes meet mine.
Sadness, tears, and regret are pooled behind those beautiful silver irises, but I only nod softly, encouraging him to carry out the hit while my body is pinned up against the wall with no possible chance for escape.
Instead of fighting, or reasoning for him to take me away from here so we can start over, I decide to give him every ounce of permission he needs to do the one thing he came here for.
We were bred the same, instilled with the idea that promised vengeance would solve our problems, and right now, we’re the only ones who can save each other.
If he takes my life, he gets the revenge I know he’s been fantasizing about, and in turn, I get the final exit I’ve been dreaming of since returning to California.
“It’s okay, Jasper. It’s okay, just do it,” I whisper, the tears falling down my cheeks, and he snaps his eyes shut, shaking his head as he makes the decision I know is ripping his heart in two.
It needs to be done, so he can move on with his life, and I can escape from the one forced upon me.
It’s salvation for us both, and right before he squeezes the trigger, a loud voice disrupts the silence, breaking our trance as we search for the source.
“Enough!” He shouts, the two-syllable word bouncing off the brick walls, and Jasper lowers the gun while I drop my head, the chance at eternal bliss evading me once again as I open my eyes into theirs.
There they are, the two boys I gave my soul to, but seeing them together doesn’t ignite the fire in my bones that it used too, it only serving as a reminder that I missed another fucking opportunity, and now, I’m forced to live another day.