Chapter 3
CAUGHT RED HANDED
Present day
Ismiled wide, sated with my latest gift.
My final one, not that I knew it. The tall, dark-haired man laughed as I watched these men gawk at my latest creative use of a knife.
He turned towards me, and I realized how fate had a hand in this fucked-up reality.
This cop in front of me was the hunky weekender that fucked like a savage.
Oh, I bet he was thrilled today. The last time I designed such an elaborate house filled with gore and sex, it was with a ball-peen hammer, an obvious joke implied, but these stupid cops never saw the humor of my gifts.
The hunk laughing, however, was different.
To my surprise, he was laughing as if a grand joke had just been told.
Every other SWAT member stood still, queasy under the masks as they tried not to gag from the smell.
Maybe Mr. Cop was laughing at the irony of it all; the odds of fucking someone and then later having to arrest them for a crime must have been the cherry on his pie.
Fuck, what was his name? I watched with intrigue, still very aware of the twelve guns pointed my way.
After a few more seconds, he finally spat out the source of his laughter.
“It’s a fucking knife,” he chuckled.
“At least someone got the joke. Would you prefer I try to kill someone or would you care to do the honors?” I baited him, a smirk revealing itself as I held out my wrists, prepared for shackles.
He straightened as his unprofessional tone ended and walked up to me.
“Dustin.” The SWAT guy hissed towards his head, but Dustin held up his hand, as he looked at my hands contemplating the matter before he turned his attention to my greedy cunt and the knife still gripped within its walls.
“What can I say? A girl and her toys, am I right?” my lips could have dripped in honey with the suggestive tone.
He slipped on a glove before taking hold of the blade between two fingers. Mmm, those fingers were thick and inviting. I remembered them pumping in as he finger-fucked me just last week. My pussy, having a mind of its own, tightened around the K-bar, sucking it deeper to my drenched core.
I gasped out startled by his push against my still throbbing cunt, a smirk crossed his face but my greed got the better of me and he pulled out just as quick. My pussy mourned the loss.
The man held my K-bar still between his fingers, the delicate hold careful not to destroy evidence. I knew that wasn’t a problem though, as I was a witness, a participant, a criminal mastermind … a victim.
Someone rushed forward with an evidence bag already prepared, and mister thick fingers dropped it in. His eyes never leaving my presence. They were a constant heat, a burning fire wherever he cast his gaze.
I lazily rolled my head towards the ceiling and the camera, winked and watched a moment longer for the red light to shut off.
My gift had been received as I knew it would.
I should have felt disgusted for pleasuring myself while utterly soaked in blood and sitting right next to the guts of the dead deer that was way too unfortunate to have hit my truck just yesterday, but I wasn’t disgusted.
I was proud, sated and the smile that was on my face never left as I jumped off the countertop, landing with a soft thud on the kitchen tile.
I knew the routine. They were all so shocked at the display of raw passion that I had just performed that none of them actually realized they were supposed to be arresting me.
Stupid cops, always so shellshocked at anything out of the ordinary.
The shock was clear in every single SWAT member’s eyes as I raised my hands up, then slowly placed them on the back of my head, turned towards the counter and bent over.
I had already flashed myself to this group once, but now they got to see it all.
I lingered in that position, not embarrassed as the heated gaze of Dustin roamed across my scars.
The constructs created by a society that only cared for itself did not hinder me.
Dustin never came close to touching the scars when we fucked, but as his eyes bore a hole in the strips of risen flesh that littered my back, I could just imagine the thoughts that crossed his mind.
Pity. I didn’t need, or want, his pity. Finishing the action, I kneeled and laid face down on the bloodied, soiled floor.
My eyes closed as rough hands thrust handcuffs on and in place.
My energy was zapped, and I was half hoisted, half dragged out of the house.
My mind no longer felt the need to be in the present.
There was nothing to be gained in an escape attempt.
My legs were too weak and wobbly to carry me upright, and I didn’t want to go.
The blissful high of the orgasm came crashing down, and my mind took a dive with it.
Twenty-four years ago—she’s six
Daddy’s keyring jangled as it fell to the ground. I was shivering, crying and so very tired, but I didn’t want to be with Daddy; I wanted Momma. She was just inside the house.
Daddy bent down to pick up his keys, and I slipped out of his arms, running back towards the house. I wanted Momma. Momma made everything make sense.
I slipped on one of the slick stone paths as I ran.
It hurt, and I think I scraped my knee, but I got up determined to see Momma, to tell her that Daddy wanted to take me to his shed.
I had made it to the doors and jerked with all my might for them to release.
My hands were less slippery before, and the red paint had washed off and clung to the door handles instead.
I could hear Daddy’s heavy footsteps as he followed sluggishly behind me, but my heart jumped like the tiger on my favorite show. I didn’t understand this feeling. I was scared, but my heart jumping up and down was new.
Daddy never made me feel this way before, and I tried to think why things were different now, but my head felt foggy. I cried out, struggling with all my might for the door to open, but it felt stuck. Did Momma lock the doors like she always did at night?
My teeth chattered, and I shook as the rain thudded against my head, every drop feeling like a tiny shot from the doctor. The door wouldn’t budge, and Daddy was getting closer.
I tried to use my big strength to pull the door open once more, and it came open at the last second. I fell backwards onto my butt, my hand slipping free of the door. I was quick to get up so that I could go get Momma before the door closed and I would have to fight that door again.
It was warmer in the house; there wasn’t the big scary thunder and the icy rain to make me shiver. I had been in the living room sleeping off the nighttime juice when Daddy woke me, and I retraced my steps, hoping to find Momma there too.
“Momma?” I called, waiting for the response I knew would come.
There was silence.
“Momma?” I cried out louder this time.
Momma didn’t answer; the only sound I could hear was the rain as it smacked against the windows.
I ventured into the living room where I had first woken up, but no one was there, just red paint on the cushions and floor. Momma wouldn’t like that I got paint everywhere.
“Momma!” I shouted again, hoping that she would hear my cries.
No answer.
Maybe Momma was sleeping in her room. I walked to her room, stepping in red paint along the way. I yawned big, still fighting the sleep away with every step forward.
The light was on when I got to the door, and I pushed it gently open. My eyes scanned the room, coming to a halt when I saw Momma lying in bed. I ran towards her, climbing up on the massive bed.
She looked peaceful as she slept, but she was sleeping in the red paint. It was oily and so slippery. Why hadn’t it dried? Silly momma didn’t like sleeping in our paint clothes.
“Momma?” I whispered softly trying to rouse her.
There was no response.
“Momma?” I shook her shoulder, calling her name again. Maybe she hadn’t heard me.
Nothing happened.
I touched her soft cheek in an attempt to wake her once more. Momma’s skin was as cold as mine. Did she go in the rain too?
I heard shuffling from the living room, and my heart jumped again.
“Momma!” I yelled, scared for what Daddy might do if he found me trying to wake Momma.
She didn’t wake up. She was just lying there sleeping. I pulled the big comforter around us as I huddled closer to her side. Soft cries escaped me as I tried desperately to wake her.
This wasn’t right; Momma always woke up. I sobbed against her, hoping it was a game of pretend.
Please be playing a game of pretend, you promised you would be here always.
I wailed loudly as I slowly came to the realization something was wrong with Momma. My face was streaked with tears as I tried to remember what to do. I sniffled, wiping my nose on my wet sleeve, and sat up closer to her.
My tiny hands gently found their way up to her face, tracing the beautiful features that were my own. Her cheeks weren’t as rosy, and her eyes were still closed. My fingers traced her lips, and I gave her a quick peck. My eyes widened in fear when I didn’t feel the tickling breath of her nose.
“Momma!” I cried out, shaking her body more desperately, but she was so stiff.
The door creaked open, and Daddy stood watching. He looked like he was crying.
“D-d-daddy!” I sobbed toward him, and he stepped further into the room, clumsy still.
“W-w-why won’t momma wake up?” I stuttered, trying hard not to hiccup from crying.
“Sweetheart, she’s not going to wake. She’s dead,” He sighed, picking me up once more.
I grabbed onto his form as his heat leached into my tiny body.
Momma’s dead? Like when my goldfish didn’t wake up for two days?
Momma said that Goldie had to go away and that we would see him one day soon.
I missed Goldie; we had so much fun together.
Momma made me go play in the sunroom after Goldie wouldn’t wake up, and I was sad because I wanted to stay. That was the last time I saw Goldie.
Daddy started walking to the door again, but my tear-filled eyes stayed on Momma.
Momma will wake up tomorrow. Her big smile and warm hugs will greet me as the sun hits my eyes, and we will laugh, and she’ll say it was all pretend.
Uncertainty clawed its way into my mind, and I struggled against Daddy's hold.
“Daddy. W-why are we leaving Momma?” I asked through wails still reaching towards Momma.
“She’s dead,” His voice sounded broken, but he didn’t stop walking.
My head hurt, and my heart screamed out that this would be the last time I saw Momma, but it couldn’t be true. Momma promised she wouldn’t ever leave me until I was as tall as her, but as we made it back to the doorway, my hope was running away.
I cried so loudly as I tried to reach out to her again. I just had to squirm out of Daddy’s hold and try harder to wake Momma.
Smack.
I wailed as the hit slammed into my behind.
“Behave sweetheart, we are going somewhere else now,” Daddy’s voice had lost its warmth as he punished me.
“B-but, bu-ut I want momma to wake up,” I cried loudly into his ear, still not understanding.
“Stop it darling, she’s not waking up. She’s dead,” He said as another smack landed on my butt.
I sniffled loudly as the shock and pain started registering in my brain. It was so slow, like someone had put everything in turtle mode.
My cries still came, but I had stopped trying to get out of Daddy’s arms, and he readjusted me over his shoulder, carrying me past the living room and out the doors again.
The rain felt colder as he made his way back to the shed. The yellow light was on now, and my fear got the best of me. I desperately clung to Daddy as he marched us right to the door and inward.
Present day—June 26th
I felt something cold touch my arm and the thudding in my brain started; it was getting hard to breath and I needed to get away, there were voices speaking to me but I couldn’t hear them, and I dared not open my eyes, I kept pulling away from the cold, not ready for what I knew would come next, my mind was a battleground, every thought was screaming at me to escape.
My limbs felt too tired, and as I jerked away from the cold once again, I felt the strap clamp down on my wrist, not again.
Awe, don’t be like that, little tiger; we haven’t even gotten to the fun parts.
I panicked. Adrenaline spiking, my eyes flew open.
It was too bright, and I squinted against the harsh lights, discombobulated.
I looked around, and there was someone grabbing my arm, and the voices grew louder.
I saw it there in the cabinet, my escape.
I kicked out at the person holding me and flung open the cabinet, grabbing the scalpel, and tried to plunge it into my captor.
Something pricked the back of my arm, and the scalpel clattered to the ground.
No! I thought as my limbs couldn’t support my weight as I toppled down my vision blurred into blackness.