Chapter 62nd

I still don't know for sure what possessed me: If I actually believed him, if I internally reasoned that he had not lied so much to me before, that maybe he could be trusted with the truth; or if I simply gave in, too tired to keep trying, to keep fretting over the idea of escaping him, leaving that room once more and coming up with a new plan to simply stay alive – a rather burdensome effort lately. Whatever the case, I didn't have the opportunity to scrutinize… I didn't give myself the time. Suddenly, I felt eager to stand up, like the kid in class who knew the answer. I wanted to get up, and I desperately wanted to do it fast, before he could find me, as if that would actually grant me any favors… My body was stiff, shrunk into itself, uncertain… but I wanted to believe him. I wanted so bad to be proven wrong.

Chris turned placidly and found me. The gun in his hand… he didn't raise it upon meeting me. Instead, he cocked one of his scary smiles, as if my surrender was a token of affection, as big a gesture as devotion could conceive.

"Frankly… you never cease to amuse me!" his smile widened, then his warm eyes wandered down, surveying me. "Of course… I'll ask to see your hands. I Hope you don't mind…"

A small frown crossed my face. This felt odd… an odd type of surrender. No, not surrender – I'd not take it like that. Truce! It was natural, in a truce, to show hands, so hesitantly I lifted mine. Chris watched them briefly, the calm in his face remained. Nothing to fear, he walked slowly around the counter, and finally towards me. I beheld him with suspicious, coy eyes that looked away as soon as his captured mine. I didn't know what I was thinking… I didn't know what I was doing, and I was terrified of finding out sooner rather than later that I'd made a terrible mistake.

"P-put your gun down!" I blurted out nervously, remembering it was a truce.

"Alright… sure!" Chris chuckled, as if caught off guard, and I tensed… but sure enough, he held up the gun and, with slow movements, placed it over the counter, and resumed his slow approach.

My breathing grew as the space between us shortened, as he closed in, towering over me… then standing there, watching me from his height. I waited, bracing myself for some sort of impact… and when it didn't come, my eyes shyly risked finding his, trying to read their intention. His effort took root: I saw no threat in them, only that warmth, the very same from what felt like so long ago, when I first met him… when I first misread it. I must have misread it again… 'cause they showed no kindness either, only a thrilled interest as they scrutinized my regretful expression.

"I always knew you were a good girl…" he affirmed, some sort of claim over who I was, and over that moment, too. One that bullied me into submission. "…we just needed time to get to know each other." His hand hovered about my face, fingers landing on my cheek, caressing it superficially "…the right audience. And by that I mean… lack thereof."

His good humor… it made me uncomfortable as much as the opposite. I caught myself dodging his touch as if there was anywhere to run – as if that, in itself, offered some sort of resistance, some preservation on my pride. There was no room for pride anymore – or at least not enough of it, not enough to annoy Chris anymore. He chuckled lightly, pitying my skittishness, and invested more care, more slowness in his future caresses to try and prevent a similar demonstration.

"I'm here!" I breathed an agitated, impatient breath, trying to sound collected… decided. "What now?"

He twisted his lips, containing a smile, as if I had said something childish and funny. "Now?" he repeated, in no rush. His finger brushed across my skin again – it pulled the hair from my face, behind my ear. I shuddered at the contact, as if it was coarse, but I didn't let myself dodge it this time. And the truth was that it wasn't coarse: it was warm, inviting… it made me close my eyes. This time, Chris didn't stop. He caressed my face, ran his fingers down my temples, down my jaw, watching every corner of my face with a silent feeling I couldn't place. "Now…" he sighed. "…I finally have you."

His hand moved to the back of my head, holding me, and before I could fret, he pulled my face upwards and put his lips to mine. They were soft… warm… solacing, like a dream I entertained before this whole mess started, when it was, indeed, just the two of us, nothing pointy in between. Slowly they opened, encircling my mouth, prying mine, massaging them into submission, into the sadness of giving me the taste of that one thing I so desperately wanted.

Chris held my head in place as he kissed me slowly, and when he was sure I wouldn't pull away, he let his hands down, ran them down my arms, held my hands, placed them over the counter, moved closer to me, until I could feel our bodies pressing.

His skin… it was hot… his scent, overwhelming. His proximity now, my standing wide open and how it all made me feel… it intimidated me in a brand new mix, one that allowed me to pull away from his kiss, to lower my head, escaping his lips, catching my breath, thinking… His eyes fished for mine, ruthlessly:

"You don't need to be afraid, Abby. It's just the two of us at last. Rest your mind…" he arched down, lowering his head so I could see it – so I could look into his eyes, and drink from the assurance in them "…there is nothing to think about. Nothing to plot… nowhere to run, nor to hide." Another kiss to my lips, a rushed peck, a gentle pressure that sent a small current of electricity down my body, making me limp and dizzy for his arms to hold. "You can let go…" he whispered strangely, in that strange embrace, my face on his hair, his lips about my ears "There's no one here to see it."

"To see it…" I mumbled timidly, piecing information together.

"No heroes here… and no judges either." He picked my chin between his fingers and moved it upwards, turning my face to him again "…give yourself away."

He kissed me. I felt the strange feeling of breathing underwater… of getting carried under, about to drown. My limp body tensed, a jolt of fear possessing it.

"Chris…" I called shyly, fearful, intimidated by my position, pressed against a counter, Chris standing before me, around me, his arms caging me there. Before I knew I couldn't…

"…I can't move away…" I caught myself moaning out loud.

"Why are you trying to?" He kissed me, I pulled my head away, looked to the side.

Chris placed his forehead over mine and breathed, as if composing himself… controlling himself… or just enjoying the moment? I resisted a little harder… his hands held me. I remembered that feeling… I'd been there before. He pressed his lip to the top of my head, his body embracing mine, encircling… binding.

"No… Chris!"

He moved his head back down, seeking my lips. Kissing… silencing me. His hands captured my waist, pushing at it… pulling it up… sitting me across the counter. Feet off the floor… immobilized. Cold swirled!

"Why…" I bemoaned "Why are you doing this… Please!" I begged, refusing to see it… to acknowledge it. Truth was, after all, a painful thing.

"Shhhhh shhhhh Abby…" he shushed calmly, kindly "…you don't want to put up a fight. Not anymore. Now come, be a good girl."

"N-no! Not like this… I didn't say it… I never…"

I never surrendered.

But I didn't have to say it for Chris to pause and stare at me with a comical air of pity – a treat, really: one I couldn't help but serve him in the form of those little amusements.

"You and me, Abby… we are the same. Both craving things we don't understand… things no one understands. What's the harm in taking them?"

"B-but you said that… you said you wouldn't…" finally, my teary eyes, my moist voice… my deluded self.

Chris chuckled lightly. He held my wrists as I bent back, he held me in place as I shuddered away from his approach – from his face burying into my hair, his lip opening against my ear, speaking softly:

"You don't really want that, do you Abby?"

I paused… scared of those words. Of the emptiness they conjured inside me.

"…to get out of here? To go back out there?"

His grip hardened, containing every small fidget that slowly progressed into a struggle.

"…to fight again? Fight some more?"

"Y-you said we wouldn't fight…"

"…and you said you'd behave. And yet, look at you." I felt his lips stretching into a smile. "I suppose we can't help ourselves, neither of us. But you knew that, didn't you? We both did."

"Chris!" I protested, trying to pull my arms free – not much strength left in them.

"No need for this. Not anymore… It's over Abby…" he silenced again, holding me… pulling me against him… and pushing simultaneously. My heart began losing its rhythm again.

"Please!"

"You don't want to go back…" he sentenced, holding me down. "You don't want to be treated as a child…"

My chest grew chilly, terrified.

"NO!" I yelled.

"…to fight like one. No… no more of that."

"CHRIS!" I screamed, and finally Chris seemed to be pulled from the trance he built, as he abruptly retrieved his face from my hair and stared into my eyes, placing his hand around my collarbone and slowly… quietly exerting some pressure there.

I panted, scared, looking down at his hand, then into his eye, feeling the threat that built around the proximity of that touch, so close to my throat… pushing, gently yet firmly pushing. I quieted down, I let the piercing stare of his eyes subdue me… let my body stop resisting, stop fighting… letting it just get pushed, laid flat over the counter, heart beating fast inside an empty box.

"There it is…" Chris spoke softly, as if to try and not scare me into the previous mood "…a good girl! Now… Don't be afraid!".

"Please…" I whimpered cowardly "Please don't…" and in case it was a misunderstanding… just in case he just needed to hear it, and I'd been failing all along: "I don't want to…"

"We will see about that." He spoke, bending over me, running his hands up my arms, pulling them up, together "…Now shush."

Of course… there was no getting out of that place. Not alive. If Chris had any intention of bringing me with him, he wouldn't be doing this here. He had captured me – tricked me – but he couldn't take me back to my house… and he couldn't take me with him, either. So this was it… where he'd get what he wanted, and where he'd take my life! I grew agitated, panicked. I tried to move sideways, to escape him, but couldn't. I tried to pull my arms from his hands, but couldn't either… and what a surprise!

"I didn't think I'd need this…" he spoke with a haggard voice as I pulled away from his kiss. "…but I'm glad I brought it along anyway. It was in your principal's office… do you remember what it's for?" he smiled into my terrified eyes as he displayed a zip-tie.

"No…"

"This will keep you from hurting yourself…" he held my wrists together with one hand, counting – depending, really, on my obedience, before passing the zip tie around them. "After all…" I heard the zip being pulled – fast, violently so… it buried into my flesh, tight and painful, and utterly unbreakable "plenty of sharp objects in a kitchen in case you decide to turn brave again, wouldn't you say so?" he chuckled playfully, the air escaping me.

"You're gonna kill me!" I prophesized, my voice choked, stricken.

"I can't let you go… but you knew that already." He smiled… content, lighthearted. "You can't help yourself, can you?" he mocked, before pulling me to him, to a kiss that paused before it happened – one that paused for him to sentence me some more "I guess you just want it that bad… to be put out of your misery." I pursed my lips, terrified.

"…who better to do it, but your own hand-picked stranger?"

He pulled me from the counter, forced me down, onto the floor, placed his legs around me, bent closer, smiled into my mute, frozen eyes:

"It's just fair enough – that you let me have my share of fun, too."

I closed my eyes, and he framed my head in his hand, brushing a tear away as I wept. "Don't worry…" he smiled, enjoying my pain "…it will be over soon." His eyes calmly flickered about, watching my reaction, my panicked breathing, my terrified eyes… it inspired nothing but contentment! "We don't have much time." He reminded, and his eyes faded, moving to the side as he brushed his lips across my face, over my ear, against my neck. I arched my body, I stiffened and I pulled… but I couldn't move. Each stir only made me feel the heaviness of his weight more intensely, my attempts only brought me closer to his lips, and tightened me between his legs.

"Trust me…" he spoke, inebriated, his voice moist with ecstasy "…be a good girl, let go… it won't be as bad as you think."

I tossed my head to the side, bracing myself, experiencing the multiple stings his hands inflicted in their caresses as they ran through my body, exploring it, choosing a part to sink into, to rip the clothes off of… to finally consume… He couldn't be reached. Couldn't be reasoned with, there was no mercy I could appeal to – no appeal could be made that wouldn't just serve to entice him further.

So, to my own sake, I suppose I stopped. My muscles ached… my mind was tired. I closed my eyes and I kept them shut, and I accepted it: that this was happening. That he had gotten me - I had let him do it – and now he would finally rape me… then kill me.

He was heavy… hot… his breathing grew hungrier, as did his hands, searching, moving. Not all was wasteful: at least I had saved the cop. I had pulled Chris from my house, from his plans… before dawn, I would be dead. And if I was lucky, I wouldn't feel a thing.

Just then I opened my eyes… and what a bittersweet surprise. No… it wasn't bittersweet, it was awful, like a punch to the gut! It robbed me of the little relief I had gathered from so much sacrifice, and it flung me into an abyss of unimaginable despair. I was not a selfish person, after all… not a bad person at all. When I opened my eyes, I saw a pair of pink converse shoes walking about the kitchen, and it was the worst discovery I could possibly make!