Page 10

Olivia

The Sound of Silence by Disturbed

W aking up this morning was … jarring. I remember drinking and downing some pills last night after learning Celeste was actually missing. But after that things got fuzzy. I have unclear memories of dreams about demons and monsters. I must have somehow got myself really worked up because I woke up sore between my thighs. My breasts ached too, and next to me were my nipple clamps and my vibrator. At first, I thought I’d drunkenly fucked myself to thoughts of masked men. Until I sat up and felt the sensation of something dried and flaky sticking to my skin.

Panic raced through my entire being as I sat up and stared into the full length mirror at the bottom of my bed. I was covered in cum. There’s no other explanation for the streaks of peeling whiteness painted across my chest and stomach. Flashes of watching myself in the mirror while a monster held me tight as he fucked me with my own toy ran across my mind.

Bile rises in my throat realizing that he had been here while I slept. He had touched me, made me come, then covered me in his release. I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower until it was red. I needed to get the scent of him off of me. I had thought maybe my stalker was secretly just looking out for me after what happened in the club. But knowing that he broke in here, that he took advantage of me while I was passed out … it’s terrifying. I can’t decide if I’m more scared or infuriated, the two emotions warring for control of me. This man, this monster, has fucked with me for the last time. The next time I see him, I’ll be using a knife to stab him in the goddamned gut, not letting him convince me to use it on someone else. I was dumb and foolish to think he was anything other than a predator.

I step out of the shower and use my palm to wipe the steam off the mirror. Assessing my reflection, I look tired. The stress of all this is starting to take its toll on me. When I enter my bedroom again, his scent still lingers. It’s expensive. He smells like spice and vanilla. If I weren’t so damn mad, I’d find it alluring. But as is, I need the memory of him and his touch out of here. Throwing on some yoga pants and an oversized tee, I pull all the bedding off my bed and run it to the washing machine. I make sure to put in plenty of lavender scented detergent to try to rid the fabric of his memory. My mind knows he’s evil but my body apparently didn’t get the memo last night as I came all over him and my bedding. Heat flushes my cheeks at the hazy memory of our encounter.

I have a brief flash of his lips on me and his voice in my ear. Not the distorted, electronic voice that he usually uses, but his real voice. He said something to me without the mask, I’m sure of it. And the voice is familiar; it pulls at the thread of a memory, but I can’t quite place it. A shiver runs up my spine at the thought that he might be someone I know, someone in my life. What if my stalker isn’t a stranger at all?

I don’t have time to think too long about it because it’s Wednesday, which means I need to get moving if I don’t want to be late. I quickly return to my ensuite bathroom where I apply a thin layer of makeup, far less than my normal full face, pull my hair up in a messy bun, and brush my teeth. As I spit in the sink, the sound of my phone vibrating against the countertop pulls my attention. I scan the surface of the vanity top for the buzzing device, but don’t see it among the mess of products I have littered around. I really should attempt to be a cleaner, neater person. Lifting up a washcloth that I used to wash my face, I locate my cell. I can’t help the flutter of hope that blossoms in my chest. Maybe it’s Celeste and this has all been one big misunderstanding. However, when I pull up my messages my heart sinks with disappointment.

Halloween Hottie: Hey I had a great time the other night. When can I see you again?

I can’t help but feel annoyed at his message. Luke is nice and put together, and I had a good time on our date, but he’s really not the one I was hoping would text me. If I was a different girl, one who was less chaotic without a masked psycho stalker and a missing best friend, he’d be the perfect guy. But I can’t bring this chaos, this danger, into his life. He’s the type of guy that lives in a nice house surrounded by a white picket fence with his beautiful, always-put-together housewife that wears cashmere cardigans and shit. He doesn’t need a hot mess like me in his life. I close the messages without bothering to respond. I don’t love leaving him on read, but I also don’t think there’s much left to say. I’m not the type of girl a guy like him should be with, and while we might have had some fun hooking up, he deserves better than my fiery chaos.

Returning to my room, I throw on some jeans and a simple flannel button down before slipping my toes into my signature combat boots. I walk back toward the front of my house, searching through the mess on my entry way table for my keys. Finally locating them in the kitchen, I make sure to securely lock and deadbolt my door before leaving.

Driving south to this small town through the rain is almost soothing. The radio in my old truck has been on the fritz so I drive in comfortable silence; the sound of the rain on the hood of the cab is soothing to my heated soul. I take the time to center myself. I don’t want him to sense that something is wrong when I get there. The looming pines line the road leading to the casino. Unease coils tighter and tighter in the pit of my stomach the closer I get to the sprawling building ahead. You would think that after all this time, I’d be desensitized to the dread that this place elicits in my gut, yet I can’t help the anxiety spiral that’s currently forming in my core.

Put on a smile, Liv. Just put on a smile and get through it .

The lot is mostly empty. Not many people come to the casino in the afternoon on a random weekday. I park right up front, close enough that I won’t have to run through the rain for long to get inside the building. As much as I love the cool, damp climate of the Pacific Northwest, I absolutely hate what the humid air does to my hair. I’ve never found a frizz taming product that was able to withstand this climate. I guess it doesn’t really matter here though, it’s not like I need to impress anyone where I’m headed. I slip the hood of my slick raincoat over my curls as I slide from my seat and out into the rain.

In a few short steps, I’m pulling open one of the heavy glass doors of the casino. The stench of stale cigarettes immediately hits my nose, pulling an discomforting unease from the depths of my unconscious. The smell has almost become a learned stimuli in my life—nothing good has ever come from entering this building. If I could leave here and never come back, I would gladly never tread across this worn down, faded floral carpet again in my lifetime. The once vibrant red flowers have now turned a sad shade of worn down brown. Sadly, I’m bound to this wretched place, to this prison, with a chain that seems to be unbreakable.

Entering the small and run-down bar I immediately spot the bald head and slumped shoulders of the man sitting at the far side of the room. I take a deep breath to steady myself before weaving through the sticky and uneven high top tables that litter the main area. There’s practically no one here on a weekday in the early afternoon; just a few sad souls, wasting away what remains of their meaningless lives in this hellhole. Stepping up to the bar and plopping down on a barstool, I turn to face one of those sad and empty souls.

“Hey, dad.” I try my best to sound cheery, as always, despite the disgust coiling through my entire being.

“Hey there, peanut,” he replies without even taking his eyes off the old televisions hanging behind the bar. The screens flash scores and statistics of various sports games and horse races.

“Dad,” my tone comes out more clipped than I mean it to. “How much have you lost this week already? Maybe we could just call it good for the day and go get lunch somewhere? My treat,” I offer.

My dad has always been a great dad—loving, caring, kind, and the only parent I’ve had since my mother left when I was a baby. But he is also a gambling addict. All the years spent barely eating enough boxed macaroni and cheese to fill the empty pains of hunger in your stomach because your soul caregiver gambled away all their money turned me into the independent adult I am today. In a roundabout way, his faults made me stronger, smarter, and more capable. I never take a single dollar for granted, nor have I ever relied on anyone other than myself to take care of me. I’m as strong of a woman as I am precisely because I had to be. Yeah, it sucked pawning my mother’s engagement ring as a teenager to make sure I could buy books for school and food to survive, but it made me capable. I just wish the addiction hadn’t come with the other consequences, the ones I’ve been trying to run from my entire adult life.

“Yeah baby, we can go get lunch, let me just see the end of this one race,” he says with a gentle pat to my knee.

The bartender, a rough looking man named Jim with a heart of gold, slides me a beer across the bartop. He knows just as I do that I won’t be leaving here anytime soon, and neither will my dad. “You need anything else, Bill?” he asks.

Jim is part of the tribe that owns this land. He technically takes a share of all the profits this place makes, same as every other member of the Nation that owns this land. He’s worked here for years and he doesn’t seem to relish in the more unsavory side of things like some of the other employees here do. He is genuinely a kind guy, just trying to get by like the rest of us. I’ve come to know him well, chit-chatting here and there every Wednesday for the last decade of coming to this place. He was even nice enough to let me sit at the bar and keep an eye on my dad before I was legally allowed inside.

“Yeah, I’ll put another twenty on Steeley Shoes to win the next race.” My dad’s already forgotten his promise to leave and get lunch. I lean back in my seat and let a sigh slip past my lips. I take a long swig from my beer. The cool bubbles tickle my throat as they slide down. If I have to be here at least I can get a little afternoon buzz going. “How are things going at work, peanut?”

“Oh you know,” I begin as I pick the corner of the label from the bottle. “Same old, same old. I’ve been getting some extra hours working the front desk so I’ll have a little more to give you this month.”

“Oh, little one, you don’t have to do that. I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about your old man.”

If only he knew just how untrue that statement is. If he knew the price I’ve already paid for his addiction, maybe he’d be willing to stop.

The scrape of sharp plastic nails across my shoulders makes my skin crawl and bile rise in my throat. Her sickly sweet perfume wraps around me, constricting me and stealing the air from my lungs. Tears prick the back of my eyes as I slam them shut. I won’t give her the pleasure of seeing me break down. She deserves nothing from me, not even my pain.

“Hey, Erika!” my dad welcomes our very unwelcome guest. If only he knew exactly what kind of monsters he had allowed into our lives. “You want to sit with us? We were just about to watch this next race.”

“Thank you so much Mr. Lennox, but Olivia and I have some girl stuff to discuss.” Her talons sink into my shoulder, pinching my skin painfully. “Don’t we Liv?”

“Can I grab you a drink, Miss Linnormir?” Jim asks Erika politely.

Erika’s father owns the casino. He is not part of the tribe, taking from them just as much as he takes from others. He’s one of the wealthiest men in this part of the state. This is one of several less than upstanding establishments he owns. He is one of the most evil men who has ever existed. Other children fear the monster under their bed—he was my nightmare. Stefan Linnormir is a true devil.

“No thank you, Jim.” Erika’s sweet tone is filled with condescension. I hate her so deeply, with every single bit of my soul.

I slide off the barstool as she slips her fingers around my upper arm. With a bruising grip on my flesh, she pulls me toward a booth in the back corner. I had hoped to slip in unnoticed, spend the afternoon with my father, maybe convince him not to blow his entire check here today, and leave. Unlucky me, I guess.

“We need to talk, babe,” she croons as she crosses her legs, letting her thigh brush up against mine.

Her pointed nails slide up and down against my upper arm. I loathe the feeling of her nails against my skin.

“Your dad has racked up quite a debt again,” she purrs as she nuzzles up against me, her hand sliding down underneath the table to find the waistband of my pants.

“How much does he owe this time?” I dread the answer. I’m praying it’s not too much. I have a bit saved up; I might be able to pay my way out of this one.

“Fifteen grand.” Her hand slides beneath the waistline of my pants as I choke on my own breath. That’s way more than I have saved up.

“I don’t have that much Erika and you know it. What’s Daddy going to make me do this time?” I can feel the anxious disgust rising throughout my entire core as I ask. With hesitation I continue, “Do I just have to service just you this time, or your daddy too?”

Erika laughs as her talons trail along my folds. I’m dry as a fucking desert. My pussy has absolutely no interest in this psycho bitch and her fucking games. In all fairness to her, some of it’s not her fault. Her father is an evil son of a bitch that abused her—abused both of us when we were young. No kid should have been through what we went through. The difference is, I turned my pain into strength and resilience where Erika let the pain fester inside her, turning her evil from the inside out.

“Daddy isn’t involved this time.” My head snaps to hers. I eye her inquisitively but she continues to grin back at me like a cat that got the fucking cream. Her father has always run the books here. The casino makes good money, but the illegal side of things is where he really gets to take advantage of people and gouge them for everything they have. If he’s not who my dad owes money to then what the fuck is going on here?

As if summoned from my nightmares, a man waltzes into the bar. Cloaked in sin and seduction, he walks as if floating on the flames of Hell. His dark suit is perfectly cut to his body. With slicked back dirty-blonde hair and eyes as dark as the depths of night, he’s a seductive monster. Chills run up my spine as his onyx irises lock on me and a slow smirk pulls at the corner of his lips.

Approaching our table, he stands above us as he assesses me. Something about him sets every instinct of mine into panic mode. I have absolutely no doubt that he’s dangerous. The sooner I can be away from him the better.

“Will, sit with us!”’ Erika whines in her annoyingly immature voice she uses with her daddy. The man seems unfazed as he drops to the seat across from me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Liv, my love, meet Will. He’s taking over some of Daddy’s duties.”

“Your father owes us a good chunk of money, Liv.” Will’s eyes assess me with a predatory fierceness that chills me to my marrow.

“We were just discussing her options to help pay back the debt.” Erika giggles as her fingers slide against my folds again, inviting me to play a game that I have no interest in participating in with these horrible humans.

“So let me guess,” I begin as I refuse to break eye contact with the man across from me. “I have to let him fuck me while I eat you out, Erika? Or let you both take turns fucking me?” There’s venom dripping from every single word out of my mouth but it doesn’t seem to bother either of them. “What are your demands this time?”

“Things are going to be run a little differently around here now. This is a business, after all. So, we want our money back, not a quick fuck.” Will leans across the table, his presence like a suffocating smoke swirling around me and stealing the air from my lungs. “All you have to do is let us film our time together, we sell the video, and the debt is cleared.”

My mouth falls open and I gape at him, completely unable to speak.

“If that’s not agreeable, we can always offer you a little something to be less camera shy,” Erika says as she places a small pink pill in front of my face on her finger. “It’ll make you feel sleepy. You’ll take a little nap, and when you wake up you’ll be debt free and you won’t remember a thing, babe.”

I shove her away from me as I glare between the two of them. “You want me to agree to be drugged so you can assault me, film it, and sell it?” I struggle to keep my voice quite enough as to not alert anyone around us. “Are you two out of your fucking minds?”

Will’s hand darts out quicker than I can react, snaking around my wrist. He holds me in a painfully tight grip. I wince as he pulls on my arm, dragging my upper body across the table toward him. Tears well in my eyes and I dare a quick glance at my dad. He’s oblivious; his focus is completely on the races on the television screens in front of him.

“I will get the money that I’m owed, Olivia.” The irises of his eyes are rimmed with rage. “One way or another.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” I demand in a low and even tone.

He immediately relents, releasing his fingers from my wrist and holding his hands up in surrender.

I rise to stand from the table. “I’ll get you your fucking money, but I’m not doing that.” I state far more boldly than I feel.

“Suit yourself.” Will leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “But just know, lovely, that I always get what I want.”

I swiftly spin on my heels, wanting to get as far away from them as I can. I rush from the table, weaving through the hightops and people as quickly as I can. I’m desperate to get out of here. My dad probably won’t even notice that I’ve left. He will gamble away the rest of the day on that exact same stool.

“Call me, babe!” Erika hollers behind me as I push on the doors and practically run from the building.

I quickly unlock my truck and slump into the seat as I throw the door closed behind me. The door slams with such force that the entire cab shakes. I let out a frustrated groan and lean my head against the steering wheel. Part of me wants to just drive. I could drive away, get the fuck out of here, and just be free.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. The feeling dragging me from my thoughts. Leaning back, I pull the device from my pocket and look down at the notifications.

UNKNOWN: If you want to see your friend again, you’ll do exactly what I say.