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I release the leash when she’s finished cleaning the stink from her skin, then I drag her to the mirror. Grime and fingerprints mar her reflection. I fist her hair, crane her neck, and make her look at herself.
“No matter how much you clean yourself, you’re still filthy,” I say. “Never forget that.”
I expect her to close her eyes or show some sign of shame, but yet again, she’s fearless in the face of depravity. My brain pings with ideas as I consider other ways to break her before I have to hand her off. I can’t do anything that would leave a lasting mark, which completely rules out cutting and beating. Two of my favorite things. Choking her is fun, but I’m liable to go too far if I keep on.
When I look at her throat again, a light bulb blazes above my head. A few months ago, Tobin bought an industrial-strength shock collar for Pup. I was able to break through and hide it before he could use it on my dog, but now I think I’ve found a good use for it. He never had the chance to cut the collar to size, so it should be big enough to go around Aurora’s neck. It’s rated for disobedient creatures with a high pain tolerance, and that pretty much describes the girl.
With a new plan in mind, I help to dress her in black leggings and a dress shirt a previous victim left behind. It’s not like she’ll need the clothes anymore. The girl looks pretty when she’s dressed up like this, and I like pretty things.
I love to kill them once I’ve dolled them up. When they look their best and feel their worst. I don’t need to slather this girl with makeup to make her look nice, though. She only needed to be washed and dressed in something that wasn’t so slutty.
Killing is the closest I come to feeling something, and thoughts of spilling blood on that dress shirt almost harden me. Her fear would be my foreplay, and killing her would be the main event. Murder grants the release I crave, but I can’t do any of that, so I’ll have to make do with torture. With a smile on my face, I lead her back to the truck.
Chapter Fifteen
Aurora
Once we’re back in the truck, he removes the collar and leash and hooks me to the bed again. The handcuff digs into my wrist. As I sit here, held captive in a madman’s truck, I’m just glad I’m clean. Such a treasured luxury for someone like me. I rub my free hand along my neck, feeling the indents and bruising where he choked me with the collar. Dick.
Psychos like it when you freak out and react to their madness. He’ll be sorely disappointed in me. It would take a lot to make me react to him. I’m used to degradation and pain. What I’m not used to is the lack of payment afterward. That pisses me off.
My arm strains as I lean over to look at him. His body sways as he pulls things from compartments near the front of the truck. I don’t know what he’s looking for, and I’m not sure I want to know. I turn my attention to that tiny window again.
Sitting up on my knees and straining my neck, I can make out the sign near the front of the rest stop. A sign that sends my heart to my feet. He’s taken us south, not north. We’re already in fucking Kentucky! It was stupid of me to think he’d bring me home after all this, but seeing the sign hits me with a hard truth.
“Where are you taking me?” I yell. The chain rattles on my wrist.
“I have business to do.”
“Where?”
“South.”
I take a sharp breath. “Kane, just let me go. You haven’t done anything to me that would make me go to the police. No harm, no foul. We can just go our own way.” I try to keep my voice calm and steady so he knows I’m serious. If he lets me go, I won’t go to the police. They don’t believe whores anyway.
“Shut up, dropout,” he says as his back straightens. He holds a box in his hand, and I don’t want to find out what waits inside.
“I’m serious. You’re safe. The cops wouldn’t believe me, even if I ran to them.” I don’t add that I’m speaking from firsthand experience.
“I’ve never been safe in my entire life,” he says. “And now, neither are you.”
“You think I’ve been safe? People who’ve known safety don’t take all the things you guys have done to me on the fucking chin.”
Kane lifts his bandaged hand and examines it. “How did this happen?”
“You...Tobin cut his hand when he was fucking me with the handle of a knife.”
Kane scoffs. “And you liked it?”
“Maybe not that part, but if you’re asking if I came with his entire hand inside me while he used his blood as lubrication? Yeah. That happened.”
He shakes his head and comes toward me, the box still clutched in his hand. Panic sends bile into my throat, but I keep still. He pulls something black from the box and steps closer. I can’t see what it is.
“Close your eyes,” he says. It’s the sort of thing you’d expect someone to say with a smile, but he’s as serious as a terminal diagnosis.
Most people wouldn’t obey him, but I’m beginning to learn his personalities. This one has a short fuse. If I don’t want to set him off, I should close my fucking eyes.
So I do.
