Page 34 of Keeping Her Under (Deranged Highway, #1)

Thirty-Four

I don’t kill Summer’s mom tonight. Now that I’m not committing suicide, I need to rush back to the hospital to tie up loose ends.

It’s only a matter of time before the bodyguard demands the surveillance tapes from the hospital. My face isn’t in them, but he’ll see an unknown man heading towards the ICU every time someone codes.

When he interrogates the floor staff, Ryan will become his prime suspect; the man’s oozing panic and anxiety out of every pore. Then it’s a simple trail to Summer, and if he hurts her...

Grabbing the burner phone, I text Ryan with my last request.

Ryan: I can’t do that!

I send him a voice recording of his mother. She’s screaming for mercy, begging to be saved as Asher rams his cock deep inside her pussy.

Ryan tries to call me, but I don’t answer. Asher chuckles beside me, but I don’t. Rape is a weapon, not an enjoyment. I thought my cousin knew that, but with what I’ve learned tonight…

My phone vibrates, cutting through my thoughts.

Ryan: Okay! Please. Just stop! I’ll do it.

Unknown Caller: Bring her out in three hours.

It’ll take us that long to get back to the hospital. We drive separately, but we don’t speed. My mind drifts as I drive. Going from Summer to Asher and back again.

They’re the two people I love the most, but what if they don’t get along? What if she wants me to kill him too because he’s a rapist without remorse?

My stomach churns as the miles pass beneath my wheels. By the time we’re back in my city of work, my skin is taut and my mind is spinning.

My entire world has shifted, my opinion about myself, my belief about what I knew. A part of me wants to deny it, to lock it all down and pretend Alina was wrong. That I didn’t rape Summer. That I have nothing to atone for.

But I promised Summer I would face my demons.

That I wouldn’t hide behind my trauma.

So I park my car a few blocks down from the hospital, and I wait for Asher to call me. The burner phone sits in my hand. As soon as it rings, I answer.

“Any police?” I ask.

A few hours ago, I never would’ve thought she’d turn me in, and I hate the feeling of uncertainty settling in the pit of my stomach. I remind myself that we’re fated to be together –I can still feel that truth in the entirety of my soul– but it doesn’t make my nerves settle.

“No,” Asher says, and I exhale strongly.

Only to catch my breath again.

This doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to turn me in.

She might simply be too out of it for anyone to take her accusations seriously.

The idea of her being dismissed makes my blood boil.

Victims should be believed. They should be fought for.

I make a note to ask her if she talked; I need to know how many more people I need to kill.

“I’m driving ov–”

“Meet me at the rendezvous.” He hangs up before I can tell him no. Gritting my teeth, I toss the phone at the passenger seat. If I drive over now, I could mess up whatever he has planned. If I knew what that was, it wouldn’t be a problem.

But what if the police have just arrived? Or what if Ryan has come out with Summer, but he’s being chased by hospital security?

Fuck!

I told Ryan to put a wheelchair in her room, then make another patient code before he went on break. He’d sneak back in while they were all preoccupied. He should have had ample time to wheel her out before the code blue team made it to the ICU.

If he fucks this up, I’m going to kill his mom by raping her with a blowtorch.

Throwing the car into drive, I head to the empty warehouse we’re keeping her in. It got closed years ago due to containing asbestos, and the giant signs about it have kept urban explorers and the homeless out.

Parking my van around the back, I head inside without hesitation. The material is only dangerous if it’s in dust form, and I’m planning on beating the shit out of Ryan’s mom, not the walls.

I glance down at my phone, checking for a text from Asher. “Fucking asshole,” I mutter when there is nothing there.

I check it constantly as I get the gear out of the back of the van –purchased on the drive down from Summer’s mom’s– and take it into the building. My irritation grows with every step my phone doesn’t buzz. I trust my cousin to bring her to me, so I’m not worried something’s gone badly wrong.

But fucking hell, would it kill him to text? It’ll take one –

Unknown Caller: On our way.

I ask him if anything’s wrong. Just in case.

Unknown Caller: Yeah. I’m not getting my cock sucked.

I look away with a scoff of disgust, hating that I had to fucking read that. I want to text him back to tell him he’s an asshole, but he’ll probably come back with something like: I know. I’m just gaping and waiting to be plugged.

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter as I shove the phone into my pocket. I shift the heaviest of the two duffel bags onto my shoulder while I carry the other one, which is much lighter, in my hand.

I walk into the old, run-down office where we’re keeping Ryan’s mom. The place is full of dust and smells of piss and shit

“Please… please let me go…” the woman cries. She has a blindfold on, but she turns her head to face me.

Tears streak down her dirty cheeks. Old feces cling to her bare feet as she sits curled up against the radiator. She’s tried to pick a spot on the floor to use as the toilet, but she must have stepped in it at some point. Her naked body quivers as she hears me enter the room.

“I won’t say anything to anyone,” she sobs. “I swear.” She shakes her head. “I swear. Just let me go. Please… I have a son.”

I clench my jaw as I approach her. I want to tell her that her son is the only reason she’s here, but she’ll learn that truth soon enough. The wait will be worth it too; the moment’s going to be fucking glorious.

I set the two duffel bags onto the rickety desk, which is the only piece of furniture in here. I stretch out the kinks in my back and shoulders as she keeps trying to humanize herself to me. But mothers are the worst sort of monsters.

Unzipping both of the bags, I grab the medical mask out first. The stench in this room’s disgusting. Next, I put on the rubber cleaning gloves and a pair of overshoes.

Turning to face the back wall, I pluck the key off the nail it’s hanging on. As I approach Ryan’s mom, she continues to beg for her release.

I don’t say a word as I free the chain from the radiator. The other end of it, though, stays locked onto the handcuffs digging into her wrists.

She thanks me as I yank her to her feet. She holds out her arms, thinking I’m going to let her leave. Instead, I lead her over to the other side of the room and promptly chain her to the desk.

“No!” she cries. “Please!”

She doesn’t try to fight or pull on her chains. She doesn’t have the willpower anymore. She just begs and sobs. A broken record on repeat.

I grab a gallon of water from the duffel bag and pour it over her head. She yelps in shock, but then shuts up. Shivering, she lifts her arms in front of her chest.

I grab her wrists and force them back down. I’m disgusted at the sight of her, but I need her clean and dressed before Ryan gets here. Asher’s taking him on a detour to give me time, but he has my girl with him too. I want to be able to text him that I’m done as soon as I can.

Ryan’s mom whimpers as I squirt shampoo on her head. The uncertainty of what I’m doing and why is scaring the shit out of her. I scrub her down with cold professionalism. Then rinse her with two more bottles.

After wrapping her in a towel, I zip up the small duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder. I take off my overshoes and drop them on the floor, followed by the gloves.

Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I text Asher to tell him that I’m ready. He lets me know he’s driving over.

Removing the chain from the desk, I lead her out of the office. She follows me like a dog, whimpering and with her tail tucked.

A mattress sits in the middle of the warehouse. Asher’s cleaned the area around it and laid out a dozen candles on the hard floor. Red silk rose petals have been tossed everywhere.

I shove her down onto the bed. My cock twitches at the violence of it, remembering all those times I was dragged into my room and shoved down before I could make myself pass out.

They weren’t the worst ones though.

The worst were when they didn’t bother to take me to my room at all. They raped me out in the open, right in front of my mother.

And she just sat there, too high to protect her own child.

My breaths come quickly as I smack myself in the head. Harder and harder, trying to get those memories to stop.

I’m not a child anymore.

I’m not weak.

I can show this woman how strong I am. I can make her the weak one.

My cock grows harder.

My soul screams.

I hate myself.

I hate the muck they left on me.

Hate how it’s become me, so thick on my skin that I can’t differentiate between me and them.

She cries like I used to cry.

She begs like I used to beg.

I can get her to shut up like they used to make me.

She’ll scream more at the start, but eventually, she’ll quiet, her brain shutting down in an attempt to survive.

Do it.

Show the world how strong you are.

Show them that you’re not a victim.

That you were strong enough to save yourself.

But I wasn’t.

All those times I convinced myself that I still had a bit of power, that they couldn’t strip me bare even if they took my clothes, that I still had some fight in me even after I stopped resisting… It was nothing but lies.

I was a weak, pathetic victim!

So be strong now!

Show her NOW!

PUT YOUR COCK IN HER AND FORCE HER TO TAKE IT LIKE THE PUSSY SHE IS!

“Shut up!” I scream.

She clamps up tight, though a few soft whimpers still escape her.

I breathe heavily.

My cock pulses hard.

I unzip my pants and pull myself free.

Rip off the chains they forced on me.

I’m strong.

I’m strong.

I’m strong.

I’ll show her I’m not weak.

I jerk myself a couple of times as I near the bed. I shove her face into the mattress, not wanting to see her ugliness. I grab her ass and force her onto her knees.

My hands shake with the feeling of disgust. I hate the touch of her skin. I hate me.

I line my cock up with her hole, feeling sick and wrong but strong.

But then I stop, my breath catching.

My body shaking.

My eyes glued onto the S branded into my body.

She’s here.

With me.

Soothing me.

My summer to the dark depressive winter.

I stare down at the brand, at the key to my soul, at the soap to those men’s grime.

Closing my eyes, I stumble away. Control my breathing as I stand.

One in.

One out.

I focus on the present, not the past.

On Summer, not my memories.

On her love for me, not my own self-fucking-loathing.

Feeling my control slipping back into place, I turn to the duffel bag I dropped on the floor when I rushed forward. I rummage through it, pulling out a red teddy. I toss it to her, along with a matching thong with a giant bow on the front.

“Put them on,” I demand. I yank the towel off the bed and toss it at the duffel bag. It has my prints on it, so I’ll need to dispose of it properly.

When she doesn’t move, I yank on her too. I want to slap her, but I can’t mar her skin right now.

“Put them on, or I’ll put videos of your rape all over the internet.”

She sobs harder, but she starts to move. Reaching blindly around the bed, she picks up the lingerie and dresses herself. I manhandle her into position.

She’s more flexible than I thought she’d be, so I force her to sit on her heels – knees bent, thighs spread, hands flat on the mattress behind her. Her saggy breasts are pushed up by the padded bra, and in this position, they’re forced up even more.

Like a hentai classic.

A poster girl for sex.

And that’s the view Ryan is gifted with when he comes to save his mom.