I don't let myself dwell on the thought. Instead, I use the knife to cut through her panties.
June's pussy is waxed bare. I grin at her as I part her pussy lips. She cries out as I force my cum-covered fingers inside her. She's so fucking wet. So impossibly tight. And I can barely resist the siren call of that sweet little cunt.
I look deep into her eyes as I fuck my load into her tight little hole.
"There you go," I tell her with a gentleness that even surprises me. "You get to keep it, little sis... Maybe it'll even take, and you'll be left with a cute, chubby-cheeked reminder of our time together."
I smirk at her crestfallen face, wiping my fingers on her lips before dragging Marissa out of the basement and plunging the room into darkness.
36
June
The days are passing, and no one comes for me. I don't understand it and keep hoping someone will remember to check this house, find something that leads them to believe I'm here. But it doesn't happen, and my savior doesn't come.
Parker is insane; I've come to realize this once and for all. The slightest thing throws him off guard. I'm getting sick in the damp and cold basement. I sneezed while he was painting me once, and it sent him into an insane rage. He tore the canvas he was working on before coming toward me with his fists ready to strike. He seemed to calm down some when I raised my hands in front of my face to protect myself.
"I won't hurt you, little sis," he said, his voice painfully raspy. I think it was the first thing he said that day, being too caught up in his art and his mad mind. "I can't hurt you. I need to keep you like this. So very perfect for me."
He still punished me, though. Because I sneezed and interrupted his creative process, I was left without food for an entire day. All I got was water. The food I get is sparse anyway, and I ended up passing out with the pains of my rumbling stomach more than once. I woke up hours later, or at least what felt like that. There's no telling what time it is in this dungeon I'm kept in. I try hard to connect with Marissa, but she always refuses to meet my eye. I finally see my chance when she comes in with some food, and Parker is out somewhere, so it's just the two of us. My voice is raspy when I call out to her.
"Marissa," I say pleadingly. "Please, you have to help me. I'm going to die here if you don't."
She ignores me, and I reach for her hand, my fingers trembling as I grasp her wrist. It's one of the few days when I'm not gagged and bound, and I know this might be my only chance.
"Marissa, we need to get out of here," I say finally, hot tears already streaming down my cheeks. "We can get help... You and me, we'll do it together. We don't have to suffer like this."
She ponders my words for a moment, and for a second, I think I've gotten through to her and she might consider helping me. But then, she rips her hand away from mine and slaps me so hard I fall back on the stained mattress.
"Don't touch me," she hisses at me, but her bottom lip is trembling, and I think she's on the verge of crying, too. "Don't ever touch me. Parker is right... He's always right."
I don't have a chance to say anything else after that, and when Parker returns, I know she told him what I said. He storms down the stairs, and as soon as he reaches me, he slaps me, too. My cheek is still burning from the impact of Marissa's hand, and now it stings even more. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I've never felt more hopeless in my entire life.
Parker is strange today. He doesn't paint, just pulls up a chair next to me and stares me down. Every so often, he runs a finger down my skin, taunting me. It scares me more than when he's painting because then he's taking it out on the canvas, at least, and not me. And as the day goes on, I feel the tension building in the room. I know he's going to explode, and I'm dreading the consequences of one of us setting him off.
Finally, after what seems like hours of being watched, Marissa comes downstairs with a tray of food. When she's coming down the stairs, though, she trips on the last one and goes down, the tray of food flying in the air. It's like time has frozen. Marissa is tumbling down the stairs, and at one point, her horrified eyes meet mine as she falls. We connect at that moment, and as she lands on the floor, her eyes still on mine, I see her mouth a sentence to me.