Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
And he’ll do it with such an astounding lack of shame or remorse, they’ll be forced to believe him. Surely no one with a soul could violate somebody that way—with an audience—without showing some shred of remorse.
I wouldn’t literally rather die than be so publicly violated, but almost.
So I let the moment pass, and I deal with the spell of sadness that envelops me when the stranger stops looking and walks into the store.
There’s a sense of finality to that choice that doesn’t feel good. It was probably the best chance I had at getting help, the best chance I’ll ever have, but I was too intimidated by Jasper’s threat to take the risk. I’m no misanthrope, but I don’t have that much faith in the inherent goodness of humans.
Jasper is probably right. The stranger owes me nothing. He’d probably just enjoy the show and then go home, and even if there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that something about it was off, something just didn’t feel right… his own guilt would make him feel conflicted. If he believed me, then he did something wrong by letting my captor strip me and show off my body to him.
Most people don’t want to believe they’ve done something wrong.
I’m fucked either way.
Hopelessness starts to settle over me by the time Jasper comes out of the store. It doesn’t help at all when I see the huge plastic bag full of stuff he bought.
He’s going to rape me, and then when he’s done, he’ll probably kill me. Sometime in the next week or so, they’ll find my body in the Dumpster of the farm supply store down the street.
Or, hell, Jasper’s experienced—maybe he’ll hide me somewhere better and they’ll never even find me.
Even if they do and he doesn’t get away with it, I won’t feel any better. I’ll be dead.
I don’t even look over at Jasper when he gets in the car. He shoves the bag into the backseat with all the others, but I don’t look. I don’t want to know what’s inside.
I’m silent as he drives us back to the motel. He uses a knife to cut my zip ties and then he climbs out. He didn’t tell me what he wanted me to do, so I sit there and rub my wrists until he comes over and opens the door for me.
“Come on out,” he says.
I shoot him a dirty look, but I don’t sass him. He’s clearly nuts, and I don’t want to provoke him to do anything more horrible to me than he is probably already planning to.
Once we’re inside the dated, dingy motel room, I squeeze into the tiny bathroom so I can finally pee. The space is so small I have to practically climb in the bathtub to close the door. I’m surprised Jasper even lets me, but before I get the flimsy door all the way shut, he slams a hand against it to stop it closing.
Startled, I jump. My wary gaze darts to his.
He holds out his hand expectantly. “Cell phone.”
I frown, but I dig it out of my purse and hand it to him. Don’t know why he wants the damn thing—it doesn’t work.
Once he has the phone, he moves out of the way so I can shut myself in the bathroom for a little privacy.
It doesn’t feel like privacy. The room is so small, it feels claustrophobic.
Panic claws at me from the inside. Even in relative safety with the insubstantial barrier of the door between us, all I can think about is the white plastic bag from the adult store. Jasper brought that bag inside and dropped it on the single, small bed in the room. As soon as he started taking things out of it, I felt so ill I remembered I needed to pee, and that’s how I ended up in the bathroom.
I’m terrified to find out what’s in that bag.
It gets harder to breathe when I think about it.
I need to get a grip. I need to figure this out. Surely there is a better way to handle this. Surely I don’t have to be murdered in this fleabag motel in the middle of Bumfuck, Wisconsin.
Nope, I’m not going out that way. I’m not.
I take a deep breath and let it out as I look in the mirror. There is a light in the bathroom, but it’s so dim, it might as well be a candle.
Once I feel like I can breathe without needing to vomit, I square my shoulders and wedge myself into a corner so I can open the door and slip out.
Jasper has taken his coat off and now he’s just standing there in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt.
Despite my reluctance to investigate the contents of the bag, I can’t help noticing a few things right away.