“She wanted me. Jesus fucking Christ, what a disgusting whore. I was only sixteen but I was a man in her eyes. And she fucking wanted me to pleasure her…” Hatred and disgust swirled in the dark cadence of his voice. “Those were her exact words. I remember reading the rule and not knowing what the hell she meant. But she was quick to educate me and she demonstrated. Touching herself, groping her tits and fingering…” he swallowed loudly.

Elsa’s stomach rumbled with nausea, and she felt the bitter backwash of bile rise in her throat. She took it back. She didn’t want to know the reason for the scar. He could keep his secrets.

“God, her smell... I was fucking sixteen. It made no difference. But I was strong then and there was no fucking way I was doing that with her. When she forced herself on me, things got violent. I shoved her hard, knocking her against the television. She hit the back of her head and it knocked her senseless for a few minutes. I remember thinking I had killed her and feeling a sense of relief. I wasn’t that lucky though. When she came to, she backed off. I thought that was the end of it…” Another cigarette lit and the smell of smoke. The dip of the sofa next to her. “Do you like pain, Elsa?”

His silky menacing tone scared the hell out of her and she thrashed her head no.

“I’m not asking for much. Just a little repayment for everything you’re demanding…” Elsa pressed her body into the couch and tried to back away. “It’ll only hurt for a minute…”

Inhale. The crackle of the cherry on his cigarette. Exhale. Movement…

Elsa braced herself for Mr. Black’s brutality. The sensation of heat near her skin made her body jerk and she wailed against the gag. God, no… He had just ghosted his lit cigarette past her thigh, the one scarred from her hot coffee accident, but he stopped just shy of burning her.

“Fine.” A deep, slightly aggravated sigh. “No pain. But you will repay me.”

She had no doubt she would.

He stood and moved away and a wave of adrenaline made her body quiver uncontrollably. Where was Victor? He was in there… he had been the one to stop Mr. Black.

“I was eating dinner when it happened. She had made herself scarce all damned night. It was nice not seeing her and worrying about what the hell she was planning next. But that’s exactly what she had been doing; hiding and planning her attack. When she came into the room, I just ignored her, hoping we would pretend like it never happened. She moved behind me, reached for something…” His voice lowered to a creepy, shiver inducing whisper. “It was cold and sharp. I knew right away what it was. If I hadn’t moved, she would’ve killed me; cut my fucking jugular, but I was quick and she missed…”

The pounding of blood through her veins threatened to drown out the sound of his agonized voice. She swallowed an upsurge of sobs and hid her face in the soft fabric of the sofa.

She didn’t want to hear anymore… She was sorry for making him admit this…

“Mine to do with what I want…” A softer, more ominous tone. “Those were her words just before she put the knife to my throat.”

“I totally forgot she said that… How could I forget that? How could I have said the same thing and not remember that she fucking said that?” His voice caught in his throat in a horrified whisper.

With darkness all around her and only the sound of Victor’s ragged breathing, Elsa was left to imagine what the expression on his face was. The pain of what he had told her was closing in on her along with the silence and blackness. The weight of his admission crushed her and she could only imagine how he felt.

Suddenly, he ripped the blindfold off her eyes. Squinting from the light, her eyes came into quick focus on his face only inches from hers. The corners of his beautiful mouth tugged downward as he stared at her. His clear, green eyes had turned black and he had the same murderous and hateful look on his face as the man in the alley had.

Victor was gone and she feared he would never return.

As he knelt in front of her, she leaned as far back as the couch would permit to put distance between them.

“Look at it,” he hissed as he lifted his chin, baring the scar she had so often wondered about. “This is who I am; an abused piece of shit whose mother thought him unworthy of love; an insignificant animal whose father abandoned him…”

Elsa’s eyes filled with tears but she refused to let them fall. How could he say that about himself? Didn’t he see in himself what she saw? A brilliant man who sought justice against criminals? A man who, when his defenses were down, could be kind and gentle? A man who had defended her life?

“I know that look,” he growled when he looked into her eyes. “Pity. That’s what you feel for me, isn’t it?” his lips twisted into a ghastly frown. With the ball-gag still in place, she shook her head no. It wasn’t pity that she was feeling. It was regret for the childhood he was made to suffer through. It was sorrow that he never felt loved.

Most of all, she was fearful of what Mr. Black might do to her… but there was no pity in her heart. Never pity.

“Liar,” he stood and widened his stance as if ready to fight. Again, she shook her head, only more violently this time, trying to convince him. When he looked unconvinced and a deep vibration rumbled in his throat, she mumbled no as a ribbon of drool pooled out of her mouth.

“I don’t want your Goddamn pity. I don’t need your fucking compassion. All this bullshit…” he paced in front of her like a lion on the hunt, the anger visibly building within him. “Why did you make me tell you that?” his voice suddenly roared. “You just had to have your fucking information, didn’t you, you Goddamn bitch!”

Without warning, he lunged forward and before Elsa could process what was happening, his hand rose in the air as he backhanded her across her right cheek.

Elsa grunted and fell to her side. Too stunned to feel anything except shock, she righted herself to stare up at Mr. Black in bewildered silence, her eyes wide with fear and hurt. Heat slowly began to radiate down her jaw and a single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

Mr. Black retreated in an instant and Victor stumbled backwards until he fell to his knees. He crawled to her, gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her close as he eyed the damage, clearly horrified with his actions.

“Oh, Jesus…” he whispered as he grazed his fingertips over her face. “I… I didn’t…” he stammered and choked. “Elsa…”

All the color had drained from his face. Shaking his head, he bit his bottom lip so harshly a drop of blood surfaced on his lower lip.

Quickly, he removed her wrist cuffs, then gag. Sitting on his knees in front of her, he relaxed back onto his haunches and stared at her without speaking, as if waiting for her to respond, but she had nothing to say. He had struck her out of anger. Again. What was there to say? But the look on his face… eyes glassy, pained expression, eyebrows furrowed…. His expression was clearly decipherable this time – regretful. His eyes flicked from her eyes to her cheek to her mouth and back. Slowly his irises drifted to his own hands as they sat in his lap.

When he spoke, his husky voice trembled. “Get your things. The game is over. You’re free to leave.”

17: Refuge

Elsa’s senses were still dull from shock when she heard his dismissal. There was no way in hell it was ending. Not now. Not when she was finally breaking through. She was in control this time. She decided when and where and how much. She didn’t care about the pain settling in her jaw. She had suffered through worse. What he had done was irreprehensible, yes, but…