37. What Makes Gideon Bell Snap?
What Makes Gideon Bell Snap?
My dress is bunched up high by my hips as I drag a fine brush through Krissy’s hair, humiliation still burning bright as Gideon watches me.
Fifteen hours, god, it’s been fifteen hours of being…
attached. I’d begged for the first, only to be snuggled roughly against the bed and told he’ll cut us apart when I start acting like someone who doesn’t need to be restrained.
I’d needed the bathroom so badly earlier, doing my best to hold it, not to go in front of him, but I’d barely made it.
Hours of being groomed, washed, and doted on, hand fed, and…
humiliated by how much I liked it. How I’ve never wished for much more than to be the center of Gideon Bell’s attention.
However horrifying. The words are trapped viciously between my teeth as I work Krissy’s hair.
I know I shouldn’t ask again… it only makes things worse but…
“Gideon?” I whisper.
“I-I think that I would feel better if I just knew, if you could just… I need the closure, that’s all. You know how important it is for someone to—"
“Enough, Audrey,” he snaps, making me flinch, his grasp on my ankle turning brutal, but all things about Gideon are beautifully brutal. The way he loves me would be no different.
I roll my eyes despite myself, only this time I don’t stop, and he doesn’t stop me as I shove Krissy from my lap and clamber off the bed, forcing him to follow me.
Something about being couped up in his bedroom…
being doted on, wrapping my mind around the awful things he’s done and the fact that it changes nothing for me…
of knowing that means I’m awful too, has altered me.
Gideon is bad, so I am too. Maybe that’s why I’m here, to be the part of him that feels the weight of what he’s done.
“Where are we going, puppet?”
I ignore him. Our arms tugging painfully, the sutures popped in some spots, angry red in others.
It hurts... even numbed. Every movement keeps me awake to stare at him, the handsome angles of his face, trying to picture him through their eyes.
What his sweet mom must’ve thought when he hurt her, if she even knew before it was too late.
I’m heading down the stairs with my dutiful shadow, our hands clutched together to keep from tugging.
He lets me lead him to the basement stairs before he finally tugs us to a stop.
“Come back to bed. There’s nothing you need down here. ”
“If I go down… will you hurt me?”
He sighs, growing weary himself, not of the agonizing sutures but the fact that it took me a lifetime by his side to finally master one of his most lethal weapons.
Silence.
The first ten hours were terrifying, watching him rage as he jerked and threatened me, bit and forced himself between my legs, forced me to moan and want it so badly only for him to pull away.
Through it all, I’d only asked one thing.
Where is Jessica?
I know she’s dead. I don’t know why it’s so… vital for me to check, to—
I cut off my own thoughts, swallowing back a distressed sob, my dad’s gruff voice ringing in my ears. “If you’re crying all the time, how will I know when you’re actually hurt?”
The past few hours, Gideon grew… despondent. Apathetic. I can’t decide what’s worse, only that I’d rather he stab me than spend another day restrained in that room.
“Where is she?”
He steps forward, running his nose over my shoulder. “Go see for yourself, Audrey, since you’re so dammed curious about her.” I do my best not to flinch, ignoring the cruel tone in his voice.
“What room?”
“Figure it out,” he seethes.
My legs are wobbly as I take my first few steps down, the pace awkward and jolting with our arms, but I don’t stop, memories of this place…
altered irreparably. I shudder as I peek into the room I woke up in yesterday.
I vaguely remember having been carried from it at all.
I remember being huddled in his arms, feeling like my body was made from lead.
My free hand is shaking as I shove open one half of the heavy double doors, only getting a few inches into it before Gideon’s voice whispers inches from my ear, making me yelp.
“Remember when I used to hide candies around the house? You’d go room to room searching it top to bottom.
” He laughs, but the sound, like always is jarring and uncomfortable.
“You’d find candy in every room except this one. ”
“Because I would never go in.”
“I liked how excited you’d get every time you found one, so I put a few in every room.”
I take a shuddering breath, my hand suspended midair. Paused. Trembling on the door. “Not much of a game then it is?”
“You tell me, puppet. Open the doors.”
My lip wobbles.
“Go on then, go find the bitch. You need her so badly after all… your precious closure.”
I try to let his words rush over me, but they hit home because there’s nothing more than a bone-deep sense of responsibility that keeps me asking.
A love I remember having for her mother once upon a time before everything that was fun and comforting got ugly.
Because Gideon doesn’t care, can’t care.
But I can. I must not move fast enough for him when he lurches forward, shoving me through the doors, making me cry out as our arms tug.
My eyes land on the corner of the room, a small round—
I vomit.
Jessica’s head is turned around, facing the wall in some morbid kind of time-out, sitting high on a rolling table.
The rest, oh god, where’s the rest? I try to backtrack, try to shove us both back out when he pulls my chin up, barely waiting long enough for me to wipe the spittle from my lips before his grazes mine.
“Such a smart little puppet, Audrey. You went to the best room first.”
“What?” I croak.
“It’s our game, remember? I put a piece in every room—"
I spin again, narrowly struggling out of his grip before my sick burns its way up my throat, my stomach lurching and cramping with the force of it.
Panic sears my chest like a hot iron; I don’t think either of us is ready for it when I bolt.
Our linked arms jerk, Gideon’s eyes going wide as I spin to face him and pull.
“Audrey! Stop!” he grapples for me, but with a sickening pop, it gives. I fall hard against the aged gray carpet, refusing to look at the warm blood leaking out over my skin as I scramble to my feet, darting up the stairs.
“Where are you going to run to, Audrey?” he laughs.
“They’re all gone. I’m all you’ve got left!
” the latter half is bellowed, and I can’t stop my answering scream as I hit the foyer.
I don’t get far before he’s crashing into me, taking us both to the ground with a jarring slam. “Don’t run, never fucking run from me!”
“Look what you did! You killed so many people! How could I not run? Huh? Why would I want to love a monster like you!” I scream it, inches from his face as we scramble on the floor, our arms and hands slick with blood mixing and slipping together on the hardwood.
I don’t miss the crazed, hurt look on his face, or the way it makes my heart clench as I struggle to flip myself to my stomach, slipping in our blood, sending my chin slamming into the hardwood.
The sound of the phone ringing harmonizes with the ringing in my ears from the impact as my hair is fisted, Gideon grunting as he jerks me up against his chest. “I don’t give a fuck if you want me. ”
When his hand finds my mouth, I bite down hard.
He hisses and lets go, but it’s only to shove me forward, sending me to my face.
I sob, dragging myself away as he gets to his feet.
My entire body aches, the strap of my white nightgown he cut to work around our arms earlier dangling low on my bloody chest. I gawk as he calmly stalks toward the receiver, spinning to stare at my crumbled form on the ground as he answers it.
Daring me.
I hold my breath, slapping my hand over my mouth to stifle the sounds of my sobs… to cover for him. Because… because I’m fucking horrible and he’s Gideon. He’s my best friend and he’s right.
Gideon Bell is all I have left.
I slip on the slick floor as I push to my knees, muffling my cries as I cradle my bleeding arm to my chest as he brings the receiver to his ear, only managing to sound slightly out of breath. “Bell Funeral Home.”
It becomes apparent quickly there’s a client.
My eyes dart to the basement door, the blood smeared around the foyer as I wobblily get to my feet, almost slipping again in the mess.
His intense blue eyes never leaving me as I head into the supply closet for the mop and bleach.
Not looking at anything else in there, not daring to.
A violent shudder leaves me as my hand brushes something fleshy.
I’m struggling to steer the large yellow bucket out with nothing but the dry mop inside it when he finishes up, the receiver clicking.
“Hey,” he says, taking the mop handle from me and wrapping his arms around mine as he pulls me away from the closet. “Hey, I’ve got you.”
“What do we do, Gideon?” I sob.
“I take care of you, like I always have. You let your best friend handle everything, okay?”
I nod, turning to press my face deep into his chest, my mind spinning. “When will they be here?”
“It was a hospice call. Sometime tomorrow, most likely.”
My crying doubles down at that, as he gathers me in his arms and heads up the stairs. I don’t bother to ask if he’s locked the doors or who will clean the mess because Gideon is right… he’s always taken care of me.
“I need you, Audrey. I need you so bad.”
I nod again, my thoughts muddy.
“We can have everything, a united front like my parents. Can you do that for me, puppet?”
I just nod again, crying as I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, nestling into him like the feel of his skin will wipe away the worst of what’s happening in my chest.
“I need you to see, to understand… that this was for you.”
“N-no, I-I don’t want to see anymore. I’m sorry for asking about her. I don’t care anymore, Gideon.”
“Shhh, I know you don’t. You just love me, right?”
I nod against his neck.
“Then this… this is how I can love you back. It’s the only way I know how.
” His chin rests on my head as he carries me into the bathroom.
“You asked me all those years ago, and I always regretted not saying it, not just telling you that-that this is what I feel every second of every day, this insane desperation.” I’m silent, watching him as he grabs the first aid kit from the closet.
My thoughts empty and numb as he disinfects the ruined skin, barely wincing as the smell of rubbing alcohol fills the room.
And when he turns on the shower, I don’t hide my body as he strips me, nor when he steps in behind.
The water is hot and welcome on my skin, but the feel of him is hotter.
My skin prickles with gooseflesh as the water runs pink at our feet, his hands making adoring, reverent passes up my skin, mapping each groove and divot.
It’s not even hard to let the sensation pull me away from my thoughts as his lips test and taste the sensitive expanse of skin between my shoulder and the base of my neck, his hard cock pressing into the small of my back. “Tell me again,” he whispers.
My hands brace on the shower wall as he turns his attention to my taut nipples, teasing and rolling them between his fingers until my breath is choppy again, my throat raw and scratchy. “What?” I breathe, shifting closer.
There’s no buildup to it, no long hours spent teasing and edging me. This time, he notches into my embrace and shoves.
The stretch is sudden and painful, but like always, my body is eager to adjust for him, my sex gripping and spasming around his length as he pulls out, stroking me deep.
“Tell me you love me.”
There’s no hesitation in my response, no lingering doubt. I have always loved Gideon Bell. I think now I understand; I can see now that perhaps I was the only one who ever has. I sniffle. “I love you.”
His arm bands around my stomach, holding me tightly to him as he fucks me, my breasts heaving with the weight of his thrusts.
Our moans and grunts fill the shower and mix with the steam as we rise and fall together, his hands calming and bruising on my flesh, dancing among the rest of the marks he’s left on me, and I can’t help but think how right it feels.
How this must be what the universe, god if he’s up there, wanted for me.
It’s what I’m good at, endlessly. For my body to be decorated in a roadmap of his violence, that it’s better me than anyone else.
To remember my vows all those years ago. He certainly kept his.
My orgasm hits seconds after he jerks into me, eliciting waves of pleasure as my sex clamps and squeezes over him, his thrusts becoming lazy and gentle as he bends, pressing kisses into my back.
What was it again?
He lets us fall forward, exhaustion battering deep in my bones as he gathers up his soap and a washcloth, washing me with a gentleness I know he reserves for me alone.
Forever and always, no matter what.
Tears slip silently down my cheeks as I rest my eyes, my forehead resting on the shower wall.