Venom

Chapter 8 Cait

Cait

The manor came into full view as we rounded the bend.

It was as foreboding as it was gorgeous.

It was gothic in style: dark, drab, all the things beautiful horrors were born from.

The sun was setting and the building was bathed in a golden hour glow.

We were supposed to have been here hours ago to meet with our friends for a tour of the property, but someone—Mikey— hadn’t listened to me about traffic or the drive it would take to get here, or whatever other excuses he could conjure up to fault me for.

“I can’t believe you made us this late,” he started.

“And if you had just gotten my truck into the mechanic sooner, like I told you, then we wouldn’t have been stuck in this worthless piece of shit for hours,” he continued as he kicked the hubcap in frustration.

We had sat in uncomfortable silence, or rather I had sat silent while he complained about how uncomfortable our rental car was for him to drive, for the past couple hours.

I had no interest in taking the baited statements of his tired old blame game.

That would only lead to fights and bickering, flaring his temper…

It was safer this way. He’d talked at me rather than to me and, if I’m being honest, I couldn’t recall the majority of his ramblings.

He was uncomfortable in silence and he pushed and pushed.

Earlier in our relationship, I would fall for the pushes.

I would fall for the triggering statements and I would fight back, throwing us into this rinse and repeat cycle of arguing.

Now? Now, I was tired.

I was beaten down and worn out to exhaustion. At the same time, I was trapped. He controlled me financially and I hadn’t found a way out. Thinking back, I wished I had never taken his number at that bar or gone home with him that night.

But that’s all it would be for now, wishful thinking and perfect hindsight. Because he had been too charming, too nice, and too loving for a bar encounter. His plan to trap me and abuse me had worked.

The slam of a car door jolted me from my thoughts. I opened my own–his gentlemanly ways stopped early on in our dating–and I stepped out. The manor loomed over me and I craned my neck back to see it in its entirety.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked, approaching me with a furrowed brow and a snarl. He wanted to fight.

“What do you want me to say? That I told you so?” His hand raised and I flinched; that had been the wrong thing to say.

“So help me, God, Caitlyn.” His voice was thick with anger and instead of hitting me, his hand came down on the car. That made him a good guy in his eyes.

He turned on his heel and started toward the manor.

“Our bags,” I reminded him. I walked to the trunk and took mine out, setting them on the cold ground. I looked at his luggage wanting to leave it there.

“I can grab them later; we’re not stuck here.

” He couldn’t see me, so I let the anger he riled inside me mar my face and lead my hands to sign a string of curses as fast as I could.

He’d hear me mutter, he always had, but I was safe using sign language behind his back to release my frustrations.

Hidden behind the trunk, I fantasized about his demise.

I wanted him to just be gone so I didn’t have to deal with him anymore.

But that was a coward's way out, surely. I should have just left, but I felt so trapped and utterly alone.

I thought of my family and the alienation over the years. I hardly talked to them these days. He had forbidden it when he found me reaching out and asking for help. I was so close to escaping him back then. Four long years with no friends of my own and no family—

“Caitlyn!” he yelled from across the expansive yard.

“Coming,” I said, sweetening my voice before I relaxed my face and closed the trunk.

I picked up the duffle and wiped the clinging dirt from the bottom and looked back up at the foreboding estate.

There was a soft and distant high-pitched sound that seemed to come from inside.

In my periphery a curtain moved, and for a second I thought a woman was watching us from the upstairs window.

“Did you hear that?” I asked Mikey.

“I hear you taking your sweet ass time. Let’s go, dammit.” I wanted to mock him and give him a Yes, sir, but that would only rock the boat and cause trouble for me.

The doors opened on our approach and a man in a suit of sorts greeted us.

“Good evening, your arrival is much appreciated. I’m the butler here at the manor. Please, let me show you to your room.” He stretched out his hand for my bag, but before I could give it over, Mikey's arm blocked me.

“She didn’t want to listen, so she can carry them herself.” I looked at him apologetically and reassuringly. It was a single duffle; I could manage. Mikey wanted me to suffer for not listening to him, but this was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Inside the room were dated furniture and fixtures.

It screamed old Victorian, and I questioned the structural integrity of the antique-looking bed.

But it was a short-lived getaway and I’d enjoy my time here.

There was a charm to its style and I wondered what the rooms our friends were in looked like.

Were they also lacking in modernity? I walked around taking it in.

There was a balcony and when I looked out the sheer curtains, I realized this was the room I had seen the woman in.

“Mikey—”

“I told you about addressing me as Mikey. You can speak to me properly or not at all.” His tone was sharp, and although I wanted to ask him about the woman I saw, potentially heard, I decided to change course for the sake of my sanity.

“Michael, I wanted to apologize.”

“Well, you’re not a child. I’ve taught you how to do so appropriately, so get on with it.” He was usually dismissive of these apologies, though I knew it was what he wanted to hear.

“Michael, I’m sorry for my outburst and the way I reacted. It wasn’t proper of me. I’m sorry I made us late and blamed it on you.” His smug look told me he was eating it up, but the words tasted like salt on my tongue. My mouth was full of lies.

A cold breeze moved through the curtains, and they brushed along my arm causing goosebumps to raise up.

His face changed from smug to something unreadable. “And if I don’t accept your apology?” There it was, the bait.

“If you decline my apology I will accept that answer. You have a right to do so,” I said sweetly, hoping this would evade another argument.

I didn’t know why he wanted to fight so badly.

Deep down I did: he wanted control, and this was an out of control situation and I was an easy target to take it out on.

The breeze blew again and I heard the faint wailing of a woman. I turned around and looked outside but I saw no one.

“Did you hear that?”

“You keep asking me that question, so you’re either crazy or can’t recognize the whistle of the wind.” Dismissive. Again.

“I’m not crazy. Your words are hurtful.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, smoothing it over. I wasn’t actually sorry in the least bit. He didn’t appreciate being called out on his wrongdoings.

I walked across the room and back to the bed where I set the duffle bag down on the fluffy comforter. Though dated, the bed did look inviting. I started to unpack the few things I brought with me and felt his presence at my back.

“Really?”

“What?” I asked, turning to face him. He stuck his hand inside my bag and made a right mess of it by pulling out various items.

“Not a single sexy thing for me?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He huffed, saying, “We come out to a weekend getaway and you can’t even pack some sexy lingerie? You’re not going to dress up for me and please me?”

“Micheal, I didn’t—”

“Think? Care? Do you even love me? Do you want to please me, Caitlyn?”

“Michael, I’m sorry.” I wasn’t. I wasn’t his plaything to dress up or undress at his whim, but I knew better than to fight back. It was easier to take it. Wailing came again, faint but louder still and I jumped. “Mikey, please tell me you hear—”

“If you say it again, Caitlyn…”

I shut my mouth and went back to refolding my clothes in a neat pile before putting them away in the chest of drawers on the far wall across from the bed.

Frustration welled inside me, and if he continued to push, my restraint would break and we’d be in a full blown fight. I’d be triggered. I’d say something stupid. I’d suffer the consequences.

Needing to flee, I excused myself to the bathroom. It was quaint and equally archaic in appearance, though the plumbing fixtures were more modern. The decor was like walking into an antiques shop.

After using the bathroom and washing my hands, I stood in front of the mirror watching my weary reflection.

Slowly, the image in front of me shifted and I blinked, thinking I’d lost my mind.

But the image only sharpened and refined.

It didn’t go away as I stared at a beautiful young woman in disbelief.

I moved my hand, but I saw no traces of my own reflection, and she stayed perfectly still as she stared back at me.

Her mouth opened and that distant wailing came again.

I knew better than to ask Mikey if he’d heard it, so I stood still and listened to the wailing banshee before me.

It wasn’t loud and hurtful to my ears, but it was sad and sorrowful, a wail of warning almost. I reached out and stroked the mirror softly, but in that moment she disappeared and I was left watching myself.

“Caitlyn,” Mikey called as he softly knocked on the bathroom door. I wanted him to say that he’d heard it that time, but unfortunately that was too big of an ask for him. “I’m sorry, baby. Please, come back out here and let’s work this out.”

I sighed to myself and shook my head, red curls falling from the loose bun I had my hair tied in. I brushed my bangs back and turned around to face the door before opening it. Mikey did me the favor of pushing it open completely. Control. It was always about control.

“Baby,” he crooned, but I was all too familiar with this part of the game.

His hands were on me and I was pulled into his arms as his lips moved over my body.

I wanted to crawl out of my skin. This was the apology.

He’d say sorry even though he’d only do it again, and if I gave an inch on that, he’d take a mile from my body.

He wasn’t a bad lay most of the time, but his pitiful, pleading mask of fake remorse was unattractive like this as he pawed at me desperately. He just wanted to get some and throw a thin veil over the subject. Whatever. I’d get through this part, too.

He shoved me onto the bed unceremoniously and started taking my clothes off. If I didn’t fight, it’d be over soon. I’d get bad head, a decent enough fuck to maybe get off once, and then he’d leave me alone for a few hours. I needed that, so I endured his musings.

Lying back on the pillows, I noticed the mirror above the bed on the ceiling.

It was large and reflected the entire space.

I saw my body splayed out before it, and watched Mikey move over me.

I felt his lips on my pussy with a haphazard licking of his tongue as the image in the mirror changed and the woman from the bathroom appeared.

She moved closer to the glass and a cold chill washed over my body.

My nipples pebbled and goosebumps rose on my flesh.

My hips bucked from the temperature change, and Mikey mumbled something thinking he was hitting the spot.

I was locked in a trance staring into her eyes. Her hand touched the mirror the way mine had traced over her body. A cold touch moved over my skin.

“Oh god,” I whispered. Her hands pressed against the mirror and my breasts were wrapped in a cold embrace. My nipples were freezing, but it felt so damn good.

Was I being caressed and taken care of by a ghost?

My mind tried to rationalize and focus, but the cold sensation moved to my pussy.

Mikey slid inside at the same moment and I moaned; he took all the credit and began jackhammering into me.

I chose to relish in her touch instead as I watched her over his shoulder.

Her violet eyes glowed and mesmerized me.

Half lidded and lustful, she was magnificent on top of me.

I felt it then, the always distant and never-present-enough-without-my-own-help feeling of an orgasm. It crested and washed over me as I cried out. The woman in the mirror opened her mouth and wailed alongside me. Our tones overlapped in a melody of melancholy and bliss.