Chapter 47 Alessa #2
“Alessa…” I hold up my hand, cutting him off. I started this, and I’m going to finish; I refuse to look at the pity all over his face. I can already hear it in his voice.
“My dad found me covered in blood from various wounds. He had to listen to the nurses and doctors detail everything that was done to me. I think that’s the part that hurt the most. I know deep down he blamed himself, but it wasn’t his fault.
” I finally dare to look at his face, and he has unshed tears in his eyes.
“I found out at thirteen that I would never be able to bear children because of that sick fucker sodomizing me. Frankie took my childhood from me, so at twenty-two, I took his life from him.” I scramble back off the lounger when he reaches for me.
Every word just comes pouring out, and I can’t stop it.
“Micah and Ryder grabbed him one night and locked him in the basement. Micah told me I could finish what he started when I was ready. I went down to that fucking basement, and everything he had done to me, I did to him. Four days because that’s how long he kept me.
For four days, I tortured him the same way he had me tortured. ”
Dad never went after Frankie because I made him promise he wouldn’t, telling him it would start a war, but in reality, even at thirteen, I knew Frankie was mine to kill.
“Baby, I didn’t…” He rakes his hand through his hair. “Fuck I didn’t know.”
I shake my head because I’m not done. “Leo, I’m the Black Demon.” He frowns for a second until I can see the lightbulb click on. “Frankie wasn’t my first victim. I had my first kill at seventeen, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“Baby, I don’t understand.”
“I’m the female serial killer who takes out the ones who were never convicted of doing horrible shit to innocent people.”
That is how the cops have pieced it together that the Black Demon is responsible for all the disappearances; the motive. They won’t ever find the bodies or the pieces they are hacked into after I’m done.
I can feel the tears falling down my cheeks, and in a way, it’s like relief.
Relief that he knows about Frankie and relief he finally knows about the Black Demon.
“I can see the look on your face, Leo. Take that information and do whatever you want with it. But now you know the truth. The full truth.” His face is a mixture of pity, sorrow, and revulsion. All of them aimed at me.
Everything slams into me at once, and I feel like I’m sucked back into that night, the night they grabbed me. A whimper escapes my mouth before I can stop it; I slap a hand over my mouth and take off toward the house.
“Alessa!” Leo yells, but I can’t stop.
Visions of the four guys who took everything from me blind me one by one, making me stumble into the house.
I told Holden this story; it hurt, but it didn’t affect me like this.
I feel like the walls of this house are closing in on me, and the only thing that keeps rolling through my mind is run.
I haven’t had a panic attack in years, but you never forget the feeling of one.
I know that is what’s happening, but I am powerless to stop it.
My lungs are starting to seize, and I can’t get a full breath. My vision is beginning to black out around the edges. I stumble the rest of the way through the house and jerk the garage door open.
Run run run!
I smack the garage door button and fumble for my Ferrari keys. After I drop them for the third time, I can’t stand up anymore. My knees hit the concrete in the garage so hard it jars my whole body; I slump down, trying to yell for help, but nothing will come out. Memories start assaulting me.
“Remember what your dad said,” Garrett, one of my guards, says.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah yeah. Don’t leave the bowling alley.”
I am on my way to meet Ryder and Gage; we’re notorious for sneaking away from where we’re supposed to be.
“Seriously, Alessa, it’s not safe,” Garrett reminds me for the thousandth time.
I snort. “Nothing has happened before.”
Henry, the driver, and the other guard stops at the red light and glances into the rearview mirror. “You need to start taking this seriously.”
I shake my head because I know they’re being overprotective.
Henry accelerates through the green light, and something smacks into the side of the SUV so hard that it makes my head whip to the side and smack the window.
What was that? I can see Henry’s mouth moving, but my ears are ringing, and I can’t hear.
“…get down!!!” Garrett's yell finally cuts through, and that’s when I see four guys outside of our SUV with really big guns.
They level them at the front, and the glass shatters when they pull the trigger.
I bury my head in my arms, but I can still hear the sickening thud of the bullets hitting Henry and Garrett's bodies.
“Henry! Garrett!” I cry, but it’s useless.
Someone jerks open the driver’s side back door that wasn’t damaged, and I’m face to face with a guy with a mask on, his evil blue eyes glittering behind it.
He reaches in, unsnaps my seatbelt, and then grabs me by the arm, dragging me across the seat.
My dad’s lectures about fighting finally register, and I start screaming, kicking, and trying to pull away.
He’s just too strong. He finally jerks me across the seat, clamping a hand over my mouth.
“Shut up, you stupid cunt,” he hisses in my ear, half-carrying me to a waiting SUV. He slings me in the back between two other guys before jumping into the driver’s seat.
“Daddy!” I yell, trying to fight, fight like Dad taught me.
The biggest one backhands me across the face. “Your daddy can’t save you now.”
They all laugh like he told the best joke, ripping their masks off. I clamp a hand to my face and let silent tears fall. Where are they taking me? Why did they take me?
The littlest one in the back rubs his hand up my naked thigh. I’m wearing my favorite pair of shorts, the ones Ryder picked out the last time we all went shopping. “I like when they fight.”
I’m not completely na?ve, so I know what he means. I feel the acid burn in my throat and know I’m going to vomit. It comes out all over the back floorboard until all I can do is dry heave.
“Motherfucker!” the big one yells. “You’re going to pay for that, cunt.”
He grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head back, making me cry out. I try to claw his hands away, but it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. “I think we should get started now,” the passenger says with a laugh.
“Bitch just puked in the fucking car, and you’re turned on right now?” the driver asks. “You sick fucker.”
“I like it nasty.” The passenger laughs again, and I can see the unhinged look in his green eyes.
The two in the back roughly start pawing at the buttons on my shorts, and my fight increases tenfold. The little one has his hand ready to clamp over my mouth; I grab it and bite down as hard as possible.
He groans. “God, yes.” He shoves his hand down the front of my unbuttoned shorts, and the big one tucks my legs between his, putting the weight of his elbow on my stomach so I can’t move.
“No. No. No,” I keep repeating, but they aren’t listening. Why aren’t they listening?!
“…Alessa!”
I frown because no one in this car calls me by my real name.
His hand starts moving in my underwear, and I can feel the acid bubble up again.
Hands tighten on my arms, and I know I need to fight. Fight them, Alessa!
“…. goddamnit,” one of them grunts, and I know I made contact. “Beautiful, you need to breathe.”
Don’t call me that!
“Alessa.” Those same hands shake my shoulders, “Breathe, Beautiful. You’re having a panic attack, and none of this is real.”
It is real! Why can’t I breathe?
“Open your eyes. This isn’t real.” I shake my head. “Yes. Please. Open those pretty blue eyes for me.”
“What the fuck?!” someone yells, and I shrink back. Why do they sound so mad? Are they mad at me?
“Back off,” the one holding my shoulders growls. “Breathe,” he says much gentler to me. I take a small breath, my lungs still not fully expanding. “That’s my girl. Now open your eyes.”
I pry my eyes open, but everything is blurry. A whimper escapes me. What is wrong with my eyes?
Something rubs at my face, and I try to pull away. “Try again,” they encourage, and I don’t want to. I couldn’t see anything! “Come on, Beautiful. Let me see those eyes.”
I can’t! I can feel the panic increasing all over again.
Strong hands grip my face. “Open them.”
Something about the voice sounds familiar and safe. The guys from that night aren’t here anymore. Just a light sandalwood scent and a cologne I’ve smelled before, but I can’t place it.
Hands keep stroking my cheeks, wiping my tears away. “Breathe, Beautiful. In and out. Come on.”
I focus on that voice. It’s deep but smooth.
A voice you want to whisper into your ear.
I want to see the face attached to it. I finally pry my eyes open again and blink a few times to focus.
His perfect face comes into focus. Strong jaw, dark stubble coating it.
A slightly crooked nose. Dark slashed eyebrows over concerned whiskey-colored eyes. Full lips.
“Zane?”