Page 14

Chapter 14

Anders

D espite my clammy skin, I somehow slip back into my work clothes. Walking down the corridor to Jahmar’s apartment feels like heading to the gallows. What on earth could he have to show me? It better not be mutilated body parts; that’s a real boner killer.

He walks in front, sporting slutty swimming shorts and nothing else. Perfectly formed droplets of sweat trickle down his spine and over the planes of his broad back. I should probably be terrified for my life, instead I’m fantasising about licking up every bead of sweat on his body. We’re probably made for each other. Pair of psychotic, perverted monsters—but he’s my monster.

I shake my head, hoping it will knock some sense into me. He’s not my anything until I know how truly twisted he is.

Jahmar lets us inside, and I awkwardly stand in the living room. He goes to the bedroom, returning with a towel and dabbing his moist skin before casually flopping onto the sofa like he’s not about to turn my world upside down.

I cautiously watch him, checking for any weapons he may be hiding. Just because we’ve had a fumble, and I’ve watched him get off more times than I can count, doesn’t mean he’s incapable of slicing me up.

Jahmar fumbles under the sofa, and my fists clench. I release a whoosh of air when he pulls out a laptop; that’s an odd place to put it, but not any stranger than everything else this man does.

“You can sit down, you know, I’m not gonna bite…well, unless you want me to.” He winks and shows me that sinister smile. A shiver hits me like a ghost walking through me. Probably one of his victims.

My throat suddenly feels dry. I move my tongue around my mouth, trying to form saliva. Sauna and fear are not a good combination if you’re trying to avoid dehydration.

“Sit,” he commands, tapping the space next to him. I stay glued to the spot, close enough to the door to make a dash for it if I need to.

He fires up the laptop, quickly punching at the keys so hard it’s the only sound reverberating through the apartment. After several minutes, he looks up. Without my knowledge, somehow, my feet have shuffled closer to him; I couldn’t stay away if I tried.

“Please, Anders,” Jahmar pleads, eyebrows drawn together like it pains him that I don’t trust him. How can I, though? With all the cryptic lines he drops and the games he plays. My resolve finally snaps, and I find myself sitting next to him seconds later.

“Thank you.” He twists his head to smile at me, and it seems genuine, although a little uncertain.

He twists the laptop so I can see the screen and wiggles the mouse, making it light up. There’s an ominous landing page for a website called Requital Clinic. Underneath the title is a slogan, serving justice with a slice.

Blood rushes in my ears, and my heart hammers against my chest. Releasing a shaky breath, my mind works overtime as I try to make sense of what he’s showing me. Jahmar’s eyes burn a hole into the side of my face.

I clear my throat, desperately trying to find my voice. It only comes out as a whisper. “Jahmar, what is this? Is this the dark web?”

Jahmar moves the mouse, clicking on the tab that says ‘requests’. He opens it and scrolls down a page or two, then clicks on one of the messages.

He stands up and goes to hand the laptop to me, but stops just shy of my hand. “What I’m about to show you isn’t going to be nice, but it’s some people’s reality. Maybe after you’ve read this, you’ll understand why I do what I do.”

I nod, making a barely audible hum.

“I’m going to my bedroom; when you’ve read through a couple of the requests, come find me. If you can’t handle this, I understand. You can just leave. I won’t force you to stay and accept the things I have to do. I’ll even remove that damn camera, and you can be done with me. Ok?”

“Ok,” I murmur, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Jahmar hands me the laptop and walks to the bedroom. Before he passes through the door, he looks over his shoulder at me with pleading eyes. “Anders?”

“Yes…”

“I really hope you stay.” His words claw at the pounding muscle in my chest.

My hand dances over the mouse for several moments, and then I drag it to a random request, clicking quickly before I change my mind.

I frantically scan the words once, twice, three times until they eventually sink in.

A brutal story from a young woman called Abby details the horrific sexual assault she endured at the hands of her older cousin. Her story is a violent one. He left her with a broken arm and internal injuries. When Abby told her parents she wanted to report it, they convinced her not to because of the shame it would bring the family. They told her they’d disown her if she reported it, so she kept quiet. Abby confesses she tried to kill herself because she couldn’t live with the trauma of the assault and the betrayal of her family. She was seventeen when the assault happened. She’s twenty-five now and left home, cutting ties with her family. However, her younger sister came to her recently, admitting that her cousin had tried the same thing with her, but she managed to escape.

Bile climbs up my throat, and my hands tremble as I force myself to check the next request. I end up reading another five, each one equally as gut-wrenching as the next. Sickening stories from people who have experienced the darkest parts of humanity. They’ve been assaulted by friends, family, colleagues and strangers. They all have one thing in common…justice was never served. Their rapists run free, out there in society, able to destroy more lives. Some requests even include evidence of what happened to them, such as pictures after the attacks.

Unable to stomach any more, I slam the laptop shut and throw it on the sofa next to me as if it’s on fire. I lean on my knees, hanging my head in between my legs, trying to stabilise my thumping heart and chaotic breaths.

You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out Jahmar’s part in this. He serves his version of justice, removing part of their manhood and reducing their twisted desire to brutalise more innocent people.

Is it wrong to mutilate people? Probably, but Jahmar’s reasoning for it is more than justified. He’s a vigilante, a sadistic one, maybe, but with a valid cause. If I wasn’t already falling for him, I certainly am now.

Jahmar

It’s been over twenty minutes since I left Anders with my laptop. I genuinely think I’ve lost my mind dragging him into this, but if it’s the only way I can get him to trust me, it has to be done.

Finally sharing what I do with someone and the reason behind it feels cathartic in a way. No matter the outcome, even if he tells me to piss off and never speak to him again, I feel a sense of relief. Because the awful stories he’s reading right now feel like handing over a part of myself. A part no one has ever seen.

A light knock at my bedroom door makes me flinch. I sit up straight against the headboard, anxiously wringing my hands.

“Come in,” I call with a quiver in my voice.

This is good. Anders wouldn’t still be here if he didn’t partially understand why I performed these procedures.

He timidly enters the room, eyes cast down.

“You stayed.”

“I did.” When he looks up, his eyes are red-rimmed, and he sniffles.

“Are you ok?” I cautiously ask.

He stands there, shuffling on his feet like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Little lion.”

Anders sucks in a breath.

I pat the other side of the bed, giving him a weak smile. “Come here, let’s talk.”

He releases the air in his lungs and crawls up the bed, kicking his shoes off. Warmth fills my chest; he wants to stay.

Anders sits beside me, crossing his legs and twisting slightly so he can see me. I sit on my side, facing him, kicking my leg out so it brushes his knee. My need for physical contact right now feels essential. Even though I’m still trying to decide how much I want to let him in.

“I don’t want to play games anymore, Jahmar; what I read was extremely unsettling and out of respect for these people, I need you to be straight with me.”

“I can do that,” I reply, and mean it.

It would be easy to slap on a fake smile and make light of this, but he’s right. These people deserve respect.

“Ok…”

Uncomfortable silence fills the room. The way his eyes are glued to my duvet and his eyebrows are drawn together let me know he has many questions and doesn’t know how to organise them, so I suck it up and just explain.

I reach for his hand tucked in between his legs, and he flinches before linking our fingers.

“You wanted to know why I drug, kidnap, and operate on these men. Well, I think the requests you read make it pretty clear. This world is full of some seriously fucked up people who abuse, rape, and almost kill people and get away with it. Most people who experience sexual assault don’t even report it. When they do, they’re rarely believed; if they are, they’re dragged through a flawed criminal justice system. They’re made out to be liars by the defence. The worst experience of their life is dissected and turned into something they brought on themselves.”

I pause for a moment to catch my breath and focus on our conjoined hands. He tightens his hold, which settles the tornado raging in my head.

“So, that’s why, Anders. That’s why I risk my job, my freedom, and my fucking sanity to do this because I can only hope it will scare these disgusting men enough and reduce their sexual urges to stop them from doing it again. I do it for the victims and for myself. If it were up to me, they’d be behind bars or, better yet, dead, but I guess I draw the line at murder.” I scoff a laugh.

When I look up, a single tear rolls down Anders’ face. He quickly swipes it away and gives me a small smile, making that one dimple just about pop.

“I get it,” he whispers.

More silence follows, and I think fuck it; I want to hold him. I release his hand, puff my pillow, and lie on my side before tapping the spot next to me.

“Lie down, little lion. That’s enough talking for one night.”

“I-I can’t. Femi will be looking for me. I’m supposed to be working.”

“Shhh, five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Anders eyes dart to the door like he’s debating making a run for him. He’s silent for too long, and my gut twists in anticipation.

“It’s ok, you can leave, sorry,” I finally blurt out.

He fishes for his phone and types out a message. Placing the phone on the bedside table, he snuggles up against me like the perfect baby spoon I knew he’d always be.

“It’s ok. I told Femi Sanita’s drains are blocked again, and I’m sorting that out. It should buy me some time.”

My arm winds around him, dragging him impossibly close, and he chuckles.

“Bloody hell, I can’t breathe,” he teases, wiggling closer.

I nuzzle and nip at his neck, and he bursts into laughter. Who knew this grumpy little shit could be so sweet. I gently kiss along his neck and shoulders, not really wanting it to lead anywhere after what we’ve just discussed but basking in the unfamiliar intimacy. It’s been too long since I cuddled someone.

He exposes more of his neck, and I have the urge to mark him. I’ve definitely been reading too many vampire books. He’s fucking edible, though, and blood doesn’t bother me. I could definitely be a vamp.

We settle against each other; all I hear is our breaths and the thump of my heart in my ears. The pieces of our puzzle don’t quite fit, but I’d be willing to hack away at the edges until we slot together and make sense.

I lose myself in the warmth of his slender body, daydreaming about spending every evening like this.

“Jahmar, you said you do it for the victims and yourself. What happened to you?” Anders slices through the peaceful moment with a blunt knife.

Cold washes over me, and a heavy weight lands in my stomach. I thought I’d given him enough explanation for one night, but I let that little tidbit slip. Choosing the coward’s way out, I close my eyes and pretend I’ve not heard him. Thankfully, he lets it slide, and no more words are shared until he inevitably has to leave to return to work.

Twenty minutes wrapped up together wasn’t nearly enough. Now I’ve been exposed to his soft side; I’m going to need more. But I’m not sure how much of myself I’m willing to hand over in return.