Then he has to ruin the view by opening his mouth. “I’ll wash your back if you wash mine.” He smirks, then winks at me and his eyes brighten as he grins all cocky.
“Never gonna happen.” I roll my eyes and turn my back to him, leaving the small room. I sag against the brown panel wall and slide down until my butt hits the floor. I don’t have the energy to make it back to the couch.
My stomach growls, demanding real food. Hunger pains burn in the pit of my belly and I feel ill.
Closing my eyes, I nod off until I awaken to Boogeyman squatting down in front of me. His paw of a hand rubs along my jawline. “You need a shower.” His fingers stroke down to my collar bone then back up as he reaches around the back of my neck and removes the collar but the phantom feeling of it remains on my skin as I touch my now bare throat.
“Come on.” He takes my soft hands into the rough grip of his, pulling me to my fe
et. He leads me into the bathroom and I am too exhausted to protest when he undresses me and shoves me under the spray of warm water.
The water drops prick my skin as chills sweep along my skin.
“Can you handle the rest?” My captor’s voice is low as he stares into my eyes.
I nod and close my eyes, enjoying the sensation as the water pelts against my sensitive skin.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
I want to say that will never happen, but it would require too much energy. I don’t have any fight in me presently. I need to give my body time to recharge and refuel before I attempt any type of an escape.
I numbly reach for the body wash that doubles as a shampoo, knowing it will make my hair feel gross but not caring. I need a good cleansing. Only how do I cleanse my soul when there’s a part of me that finds this crazy man attractive in the physical sense.
I remember the knife over the medicine cabinet. I will get some food in me then it is game on. Rinsing off quickly, I then shut the water off, and grab the towel from the hook outside of the shower.
Wrapping the towel around my body I go to step out. I get one leg out and a fucking mouse runs across my foot. I scream and scramble to get back in the shower. My other foot, the one still inside the shower, goes sliding and I lose my balance. The last thing I see as I go down is Boogeyman running toward me before my head thwacks against the side of the tub.
Chapter Ten
—Boogeyman—
Time seems to move in slow motion when I hear the scream come from the bathroom. I stop what I am doing at the counter and run. I’m too late. I’ve never known true fear in my adult life until now when I hear the thwacking sound of her head hitting the side of bathtub as she goes down.
I’m frozen in place as blood trickles from her temple and onto the cheap linoleum floor. Her limbs are outstretched as if she is still trying to prevent the blow.
Snapping out of the shock, I make my way to her and check her pulse. Brushing her tangled wet hair from her face I kiss her lips, they are warm, and her breath tickles my face.
Relief spreads through my veins and I wipe the blood away from her brow. Caring if a bitch lives or dies isn’t something I am used to feeling. Any other time I would dispose of a person and move on.
But I can’t with her. Never with her. Something inside me clicked when I saw her. I knew I wanted her.
I can’t explain it but I feel drawn to her. She reminds me of Kristen. She was my stepsister. The only person who ever really loved me or thought I was worth loving. When I was about seven my dad married her mom. She was eleven at the time. Had long dark hair she kept in braids. I thought she was an angel amidst the Hell I was being raised in. Her mother was nothing but a junkie slut. It wasn't long after she married my dad that she took off one night to get high and never came back. My father never reported her missing. Said it was just gonna be the three of us from there on out.
Kristen took care of me. She was like the mother I never had. My father saw her that way too and often took her to the bed he once shared with her mother.
Kristen would cry. She would plead and beg. I remember the first time he raped her. I had woken up to the sound of her screams and the sound of his belt. I knew the sound of that belt, I had been on the receiving end of his punishments many times.
I remember peering through the keyhole of the lock and seeing her bent over the mattress with her white nightgown pulled up over her bottom. My father stood behind her armed with his belt. I watched, feeling helpless to do anything to stop him.
He beat her and then he fucked her. When he passed out she came out of the room with blood staining her thighs and the remnants of her nightgown in rags in her hands.
I helped her to the shower and took care of her as she had me.
I shake away the memories. The shit I wish I could forget and focus on Shelly.
She is knocked out cold but only appears to have hit her head. She probably has a concussion.
Scooping Shelly’s limp body into my arms, I carry her to the freshly made up bed, careful not to hit her head on anything along the way like the wall.