70
Violet
Babies? My God. I want his babies like I want my next breath.
I know I should stand my ground. But looking at him, hearing the tone of his voice right now and thinking about all this trouble he went to today? At the possibility of a future with him?
He sighs. “I’ll give you whatever you want. If you feel like we really should wait, of course I’ll give you that, baby.”
I look up into his eyes.
“That’s why I won’t make you wait,” I whisper.
His face lights up. “Testing me?”
“No,” I murmur. “Not trying to. Just processing.”
He squeezes me lovingly. “So, your answer is yes?”
I nod.
“Say it, Violet.”
“Yes.”
He grabs my jaw and stares into my eyes. “It feels like I’m flying so high right now that I can carry this plane the rest of the way to Vegas on my back.”
He kisses me with so much emotion, I feel like I could expire. And do it happily.
“I’m ready to fuck you again,” he says.
I break the kiss off as he reaches up my shirt and starts pulling a bra cup down.
“Wait a minute there, fiancé. I need to call Suse.”
“Fiancé,” he mutters. “I like that.” He gives me an affectionate squeeze.
“I’ll have to say it as many times as I can in the next few hours since you’re only going to be my fiancé for that long…”
“That’s fine by me. I can’t wait until you call me your husband.”
“I’ll call Suse.”
“I’ll call your boss directly after.”
“By the way,” he says, “By the look in your eyes when I just said babies? Guess whose birth control pills are getting flushed tonight?”
I giggle. “Don’t be crazy.”
“Watch me,” he retorts, looking completely serious. And then he reaches for my bag and fishes around until he finds them.
“Wait,” I giggle and reach for them.
He picks up a strawberry and pops it in my mouth, leaving me laughing while he disappears into the lavatory and I hear the flush.
Holy shit.
71
Ray
Light blinds me for a second before it vanishes and I’m again in darkness. Something hits me in the head at the same time as it goes dark while something else lands on the floor after bouncing off my sore knee. The impact from the thing that hit my head knocks me back and I smack the back of my head against the concrete wall I’m leaned against. This isn’t the first time something’s hit me on the head on its way down here. I swear this guy does it on purpose.
I feel around for it. Another tin can.
Fuck. More dog food.
I feel by my knee. Another bottle of water.
My face hurts. A lot. I think the cut on my cheek is infected.
My ribs aren’t feeling any better either. I know a few were broken weeks ago when he took his first beating to me. The second beating included a gunshot to my right knee. That, he had a doctor deal with, but it’s not healing well, especially not now in this dirty pit he threw me in. Locked me in. He said it’s my temporary home while he has my cell remodeled. That was a couple weeks ago, I think. I’ve lost count, lost the concept of time.
Suddenly I hear her voice again.
“I Violet, take you, Killian, to be my husband.”
Fuck. Is that in my head or is it really being played again?
I swallow down a lump and curl into a ball on the concrete floor of my hell, listening to her say her vows to him. Listening to him say them back.
It goes on for a few minutes while I close my eyes, trying to shut it out.
I’m not calling out for her again. Too many times I thought it was her and it turned out to be more of his games. I’d hear her laughing and then talking shit about me. Sayin’ how I’m not worth her time. How she wants to forget the three years she spent with me. Or worse, talking about how fucking great he is. Yeah, he’s fucking great, isn’t he? Torturing bastard.
And now she’s married to him. At least I’m not being forced to watch a video of it. Yet. Maybe that’s coming. He’ll probably make me watch a video of the marriage being consummated. Seven times I’ve been made to watch the video of him fucking her on his kitchen counter in some swanky pad when they got back from getting married in Vegas. Vegas was our place – mine and hers. And he fuckin’ married her there. All I could see in the video was their heads the way he edited it, but saw her face, heard her calling out his name while it was obvious what he was doing.
Doesn’t matter how many times I ask him to just fucking end me, he only laughs. He told me I’m on his timetable here. Paying for what I did three years ago. Paying for what I did for three years, being with her. For all the shitty things I said and did. For repeatedly fucking him over at and after Atlantic City. Like he’s so perfect. He says he might keep me barely alive for three years. He might end it any day now. I’m at the mercy of his whims. The mercy of the coins. The cards.