Page 16

ANASTASIA

The second he leaves, I put my clothes on, to cover not only my body, but the shame I feel for what happened. It shouldn’t even be possible to be turned on by Psycho. He’s a madman. Massimo Bonetti is sexy as hell on the outside, but cold and dead on the inside. There are no redeeming qualities. If there’s a worse man on earth, I’ve never met him, or at least that’s what I’m currently telling myself. None of that matters because, for a long month, I have to do everything he tells me to. I’ll obey his every command for my survival, but also because letting him kill me feels like handing him a win. It would prove him right, like I’m as weak as he thinks I am. He doesn’t know the shit I’ve endured in my life. Men that have taken from me, until I had nothing left to give. He’s only one of many on a long list. He isn’t the first monster I’ve encountered. I can handle anything he dishes out. After what Carlo did to me, it will pale in comparison.

Kneeling in front of the cross, I wait. I shift uncomfortably, as I wonder how long he’ll be gone, or what awaits me when he returns. The urge to clean my face is intense, my skin is tight, and feels disgusting, but I fight it. I glance around the room while I wait, and take in the various spots that I assume are for torture. The St Andrew’s Cross behind me is the only item in the room that people would normally think is BDSM equipment, but I think it’s simply another device for him to hurt people on. There are two metal tables on the other side of the room, with straps hanging down on both ends. The white floor with the drain on it is telling. It’s probably for easy cleanup of blood. This entire basement is a serial killer’s dream, and a victim’s worst nightmare. I can’t help but wonder how many people have died here. Is it hundreds or thousands? I swallow hard at the thought. The Assistant District Attorney in me wants to know, but the terrified woman kneeling in wait doesn’t want to even think about it.

I get up to see if there’s a bathroom, and walk past the metal tables to find a door. Upon opening it, I find another room. The walls are red, the floor black, and there’s a king sized bed on one side, and a chair on the other. The kind you’d find in a dentist’s office, that can lie back, or be left upright. A small metal table sits beside it, with what looks like a tattoo machine. Shaking my head in confusion, I walk back out and close the door, before finding the place I’m looking for. The bathroom is small and plain. White walls, a white toilet, and a single shower stall, with a glass sliding door. I am quick to relieve myself, and wash my hands, when I find one thing that makes me smile. Mouthwash. I can finally get the taste of him out of my mouth, because I am not willing to admit that I liked his taste on my tongue. My first fantasy as a teenager was Massimo, but not like this. Glancing in the mirror, I spot my face, and repulsion fills me, as Carlo’s voice pops into my mind.

‘Disgusting fucking whore.’

Massimo is not the first man to degrade me, or make me feel two inches tall. I swallow the emotion, causing a lump in my throat.

That’s how you know you’ll get through this.

I quickly make my way back to the cross, and kneel, while breathing out a relieved sigh that I’m back in position, right when I hear noise on the other side of the door, and my heart pounds like a jackhammer inside my chest.

“Stop fucking whining, and get inside,” Psycho says, as my boss walks in, with his hand gripping the back of his neck.

My eyes widen, as I blink fast, trying to make sense of what’s in front of me, and my mouth opens in a near gape, as Psycho directs him to the metal table. This is not happening, I try to tell myself. He is not going to make you watch him kill Easton.

“Clothes off,” he orders, and much to my surprise, my boss complies. I tend to think this is likely not unusual for Psycho. Even when people know the outcome won’t be good, they probably still do as they’re told, as I have, because pissing him off will only cause things to escalate.

I turn away, because I don’t really want to see him naked. And I don’t want to watch whatever Psycho plans to do to him.

“Please. I have never crossed you.”

His tormentor chuckles darkly, and if there ever was a doubt, there is none now. Psycho is a psycho, and he enjoys this.

“I know. Shame, isn’t it? Unfortunately, my little lamb has a test. We’re going to see if she will pass or fail. My money is on failure, but people do surprising things, when their lives are on the line.”

I glance up at him when he says that, wondering how this is my test. Does he think I’ll try to save him? Easton is alright, I suppose, but I won’t trade my life for his. He lies naked on the metal table, shivering, with a strap holding his biceps down, and another over his thighs. This really is great firsthand knowledge to get, so I can get out of here, and have them prosecuted, assuming I ever find someone high up that they haven’t paid off. I’m a witness now. I won’t be involved in the case, but that doesn’t matter to me. The Bonetti brothers, going to prison where they belong, is enough for me. If I can take down Psycho, and not the others, that’s at least something. One is better than none of them. Besides, this may lead to uncovering other things about this violent family.

Psycho walks over to me, and I swear evil practically glows around him like some kind of neon warning sign. Before he says a word, I know his plans are diabolical. His lips pull up into a slight smile, but it’s his words that cause my head to spin.

“Little lamb, it’s time for ‘anything’.”

“What?”

If he’s planning on making me fuck my boss, I’m not doing it. Not a chance.

He chuckles, and shakes his head like I’m a disappointment.

“I asked you what you would do to prolong your life. You said anything. Now we will find out if that’s true. If it’s not, then I’ll kill you both, and be done with this. Stand up.”

Wrapping his hand around my bicep, he grips me hard, pulling me to the table where Easton lies petrified. His trembles are so intense, he looks like he’s having a seizure.

“If you look at his dick, you’ll be punished.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “I don’t want anything to do with his dick.”

I’m still worried he plans to make me fuck my boss, but his last statement gives me a little hope.

Psycho reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife, and now Easton isn’t the only one in this room shaking. I glance at his smug face, as he grins at me like he knows what a psychotic asshole he is.

“Do not, for a second, think you can overpower me. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, lamb. Open your hand.”

I do, while staring at him with confusion. He places the knife in my hand, and the lack of understanding grows. What the hell does he have planned?

“Cut him. Anywhere you want.”

All the air escapes my lungs, as I shake my head no. I am not stabbing a man. That is something Psycho does, not me. I have never hurt anyone in my life, if they hadn’t first hurt me. Not even when I had good reason to do so.

He tilts his head, while clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“What happens if you refuse an order, Anastasia?”

“You kill me,” I whisper.

He drags his fingers through his dark beard and nods.

“That’s right. Make your choice wisely, because you will not get another chance. Refuse me again, and you’ll die where you stand.”

I can do this, right? I cleaned deer with my dad when I was a kid, although the deer was already dead. Jesus, I can’t do this. Except I have to.

I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves, which are beyond frayed at this point.

It’s just a different animal. Okay, he’s a human, not an animal, but that’s what I’ll have to tell myself to get through this . That’s the only way.

“You have five seconds to make a cut, little lamb. If you can’t do it though, it’s okay. I’ll be more than happy to slice your beautiful flesh again. Only this time it won’t be knife play, it'll be your death.”

I look down at the knife in my hand, and take another deep breath as I grip the handle. His name is engraved on the blade, and I arch an eyebrow.

“Afraid someone will mistake your knife for theirs?”

I roll my eyes, because it reminds me of the way your mom puts your name on everything when you’re little.

“Instead of being a bitch, try to be grateful. I let very few people use my knife.”

Am I tempted to tell him it’s a little strange, the way he is with a weapon used to torture people? Yes, but I know better, so I don’t.

I step closer to the table, and look down at Easton’s wide eyes.

“Please don’t do it.”

I take a deep breath and hold the blade up.

“I’m sorry, so sorry. I don’t have a choice. If I don’t do this, he’ll kill me, and I can’t die. It’s not just my life on the line. My mother will die too. I promised my dad I’d take care of her.”