Page 30 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Twenty-three

Mallory

“ M ALLORY!”

I’m roused from the pits of unconsciousness by another body crashing into mine. Hands on my shoulders tighten in a death grip, shaking aggressively. Pain shoots through my body and my head throbs anew as I’m jostled, forcibly dragged back to the world of the living.

“Please wake up. Please fucking wake up.” The female voice sobs quietly beside me then breathes in deep. “What did you do to her?” she snarls. “Why isn’t she waking up?”

“She’s fine,” my captor replies nonchalantly.

Groaning, I roll to my side, and push myself up.

“See…perfectly fine.” His voice has a sickly lethal edge to it and my heart rate kicks up. Lifting my head and opening my eyes, I’m completely devastated by what I see.

“Thank the fucking gods,” Victoria whispers, spearing her body into mine, embracing me in the most painful hug known to man.

“V-Victoria?” I stutter, terror coiling tight around my heart, threatening to stop it dead in my chest. I band my arms around her, resting my chin upon her shoulder.

I lift my eyes to the cop but he’s already watching me, waiting for my shell to crack and my emotions to spill out onto the ground before him.

“What are you doing here?” My sluggish brain tries to form coherent thoughts but it’s like trudging through knee deep snow, a slow and full-body tiring process.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re—” Whatever Victoria was going to say dissolves into a scream as the man rips her from my embrace.

Snatching her up by her strawberry blonde hair, the black tips swinging chaotically as she fights against him.

Her small form is crushed against our kidnappers body as he secures her in a chokehold, one arm around her neck and locked into place by the other arm.

It’s the same submission move Ghost used, I recognize it immediately.

“She’s here as leverage,” his voice is thick with anticipation as he easily overpowers my kicking and flailing best friend.

Too fixated on what’s happening, time slips away from me as I watch her thrash.

Victoria’s movements start to slow, eyes going wide as she struggles for oxygen.

I’m paralyzed. Frozen stiff in the ‘freeze’ of the fight, flight, fawn, or freeze response to stress.

“Hey, pay attention or I’ll snap her fucking neck.

” he yells over the sound of her whimpering.

My brain catches up with the situation I’m in as he allows her one sliver of breathing room. Her chest heaves in oxygen, then he compresses his grip around her again.

Looking up at him, a submissive little lamb awaiting my fate, has his aura beaming. He’s won and he knows it. “What do you want?” falls from my lips as any hope for a future slides through my fingers like sand.

“Stay with me, willingly , and I’ll let her go. I’ll let her live.” He grunts, lifting Victoria’s small frame with ease. Suspended by her neck in his grip, the fight drains from her within seconds.

“FINE!” I shriek, panic gripping my chest like a vice, eyes flicking between his and Victoria. The ‘fawn’ response kicking in, pleasing him to avoid any further conflict.

“You won’t run.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll be whatever I want, and do whatever I ask.”

“Okay, yes, fuck, let her go!” I plead.

“You won’t try to kill me.” His voice is stern but all I care about are the seconds that are climbing as Victoria hangs there without blood flow to her brain or the ability to breathe.

“Okay,” I concede.

“Say it,” he grinds out, clenching his arms tighter around my only friend’s small neck.

“I won’t try to kill you,” I say, stone-faced and holding eye contact.

Sick satisfaction slithers across his face as a full-body shudder overcomes him.

“Now, please… LET HER GO!” I scream.

He drops her. Callously. Viciously. Inconsiderately. Victoria’s small body collapses into an unmoving lump on the dirt floor. No coughing, sputtering, gasping, or wheezing. Nothing. Only silence… Just like the other dead body in this tomb.

I launch myself toward Victoria, but I can’t reach. No. No. No. Please, no. I stretch, fingers splaying, cutting off my own air supply trying to touch her.

“Looks like you took too long, darlin’. Maybe next time you want to save someone, you shouldn’t be so caught up in watching me torture them.” He makes his way over to me, grabbing the chain and coaxing me toward him. “Let’s seal the deal with a kiss, yeah?”

I’m completely lifeless. There’s nothing left, no reason to save myself anymore. My best friend is gone, Ghost isn’t looking for me, and Nox thinks we broke up. Fuck it.

The nameless man sits down on the mattress, calling me to him with a tug on my leash.

My fight response rears its aggressive head. I’m ready to fucking kill him, right goddamn now. If I die, then I die.

Crawling, I move between his thighs, and slink up his body, rubbing my tits up and over his groin, pressing them against his chest as I straddle him. “Killing really does get you hot, don’t it?” he pants.

You have no fucking idea.

I nod, locking my eyes on his as I smash our mouths together.

Violently I kiss him, tangling my tongue with his as I grip his shirt, pushing him to lay down on the mattress.

He grips my ass, grinding his rapist cock against my centre, and I want to vomit straight into his mouth.

Instead, I bite his lip. Hard. The metallic tang explodes across my tastebuds as he groans into my mouth.

My fingers release his shirt and trail up his neck.

“Fuck yes,” he breaths, thrusting against me.

This stupid asshole is about to be too close to euphoria to notice me extinguishing his sadistic light from the world.

With both hands on his throat, I squeeze. His eyes roll back, and his lips lose their rhythm against mine. Checkmate. His hips roll below me, rubbing himself through his release. I drop my weight onto him, focusing all the pressure to where my palms meet his neck.

His eyes snap open as he tries to slap my hands away but I take the hits, keeping my grip tight, unwavering.

Suddenly, he bucks his hips, sending my face colliding with the cement wall in front of me.

Pain explodes in my forehead and blood pours freely.

“ Head wounds always bleed like a motherfucker, ” Dennis’s nasty words ring in my ear, reminding me that blood doesn’t always mean grave injury, some places just bleed more than others.

“You fucking bitch!” he hollers, kicking me swiftly in the stomach.

Curling into the fetal position, I take my beating.

Hanging on the precipice of unconsciousness, I feel free, peaceful.

This is it, finally . I’ll be dead. Just like Victoria.

No more struggling. No more abuse. No more depression or self harming just to feel fucking anything .

I’ll know what awaits us on the other side, at last. Calmness washes over me as I wait for the final blow, the cold curling of his fingers around my own throat.

“You’re not getting off that easy, let’s go,” he growls.

My body is aggressively rolled from its side-lying position, and I’m shoved onto my back.

His violent uncaring touch removes the collar around my neck, casting it aside.

I’m roughly grabbed, lifted, and thrown over his shoulder.

He mumbles to himself as my head pounds a steady beat and blood obscures my vision.

I can’t understand what he’s saying, and any urge to resist or fight him has left me.

Swaying from side to side as he ascends the stairs, the bright sun’s rays burn my eyes as they try and adjust from the permanent darkness I’ve been living in.

“Where are we going?” I slur.

“The mill,” he curtly replies.

Panic seizes every muscle in my body and the pain that flares is excruciating. Frozen rigid against him, he walks us over to the red car from before. He’s going to torture me, cut me up, and display me for everyone to see.

I deserve it after failing Victoria so monumentally.

Opening the trunk, he shifts his body, ready to throw me into that claustrophobic hell.

Despite how deserving I feel of what’s to come, I start to move, forcing my stiff limbs to cooperate.

Flight: the final response to my fucked up situation takes hold as I try to flee.

I begin to thrash, no matter how sluggish I feel.

I have to try. I don’t want to be mutilated…

gutted…entrails swaying in time with my body as I hang from the rafters of the mill.

He callously throws me down into the hard metal enclosure. I kick and punch, screaming for help. Anything to stop him from closing the trunk lid on me.

Ire and annoyance paint every inch of his face as he pulls a handgun from his waistband, pointing it at me.

“Stop,” he says, and I obey. With his one hand on the trunk lid, and the other gripping the gun aimed at my face, all the fight bleeds from my bones .

“Why?” I whisper, staring down the barrel of his revolver.

“Why?” he snarls. “Why kill you here when I can so easily take out you and Officer Graves at the same time?” Without warning, he slams the trunk closed.

I’m about to scream even though I know it’s pointless, but his voice comes again, “Did you think I’d give you a journal and not read it?

How stupid do you think I am?” he shouts, the sound muffled through the metal.

“I’ve known this whole time you had some sort of plan to bond with me and then turn me in.

Oh well, all good things must come to an end.

” His voice decreases in volume as I hear the car door open.

The vehicle dips and moves as he shifts his weight into the driver’s seat, and the sound of the door closing follows soon after.

He was never going to spare Victoria. Bringing her to me was just another thrill for him, to break me for his own amusement until he decided I’d served my purpose, then he’d kill me and find someone new.

“No. No. NO!” I scream. It’s useless. No one can hear me, but I can’t stop.

I need to let them out, the new feelings rising within me.

No one is looking for me. I’m going to die, brutally.

I know from reading up on the previous cases, the women’s injuries all occurred peri mortem.

He’s going to slice me up, paint the walls of the mill with my blood, and make it the most gruesome one to date. I just know it.

The vehicle sputters to life and jerks into motion.

Momentarily I hope it’s mechanically sound enough to get us to the mill.

I don’t know where we are or how long this drive will take but the thought of being so close to home chases away some of my dread.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Again and again until I can think clearly.

Reaching out my hands and feeling the dark space around me, I look for anything I can use as a weapon.

Hope takes root as I maneuver myself around enough to pull up the compartment beneath me where the spare tire is kept.

Praying there is anything in there I can use to protect myself.

Car jack, tire iron, anything. Hopefulness quickly evaporates as I find the area barren.

Of course there’s nothing, I’m not someone who ever gets good luck.

I get beat with the shit end of the stick every fucking time.