God, no. Kaleb would never forgive himself if something happened to either one of them.
And me. I left them. More concerned for myself than staying up and visiting with them. I’m to blame if anything has happened to them. I need to stay calm and analyze this damn situation I have myself in. He wants me weak. He wants me frantic and begging, I can appear weak and play his game.
I listen to his heavy breathing continue in my ear as he slides his hands down my chest. His slimy fingers travel lower, and I squirm with hatred as he palms both of my breasts, pinching and squeezing my nipples. He’s getting off on this, while I’m ready to vomit. My chest heaves up and down, while his breathing becomes heavier and more erratic.
I’m battling to stay quiet when all I want to do is scream at him through the tape he has across my mouth. He needs to get his filthy hands off of me. I'd love to tell him he’s fucked up in a way that’s going to cost him his life, but I don’t say a word. I remain quiet, desperately trying to forget the fact his touch is repulsing me.
He's tied my feet to the legs of the chair and my wrists together behind my back. He’s leaving me completely vulnerable to his twisted fucking ways, and I want nothing more than to kill him in ways that would make Kaleb’s torture seem like a walk in the park.
“I'll have to thank my brother for taking you to meet the family. I knew he'd go to mom’s. I just didn't expect him to bring so much baggage.” He removes his hands before he slithers in front of me with a smug look on his face.
I wish like crazy I had seen him in Mexico. I would've put a bullet right in his dick too, before I blew his head off. He’s the poster boy for white fucking trash.
He looks like Kaleb in a way, but like he’s five years older. He's the younger brother, so I know his lifestyle has been rough on his appearance. Having drug lords up your ass will do that to you.
They have similar yet different eyes. Where Kaleb’s are warm and full of love when he looks at me, Ty’s are dark, and hatred trails all the way to the wrinkles swarming his deadly eyes. They’re just shaped the same.
“It made my day, watching him smile with the three of you. Like his little, meaningless life was complete bringing his love to meet his mommy.” I squirm in my restraints, while the vile feelings of disgust swarm over me as he brings his face in front of mine.
When his lips touch the tape for a quick kiss, my legs jerk to try and kick him in the balls. How the fuck did he find me? My mind flashes to Mal and Harris. I pray like crazy he left them alone and that I'm the only one he’s choosing to torture.
“I knew seeing his smile that day would make this moment here so much more meaningful.” He slides his hand between my breasts then begins to grope me again. I hold back a gag while the vomit crawls up my throat. God, I want to kill this motherfucker. My hatred for him was elevated before he ever made the mistake of taking me from my bed. The pain he inflicted on Kaleb was the only strike he needed for me to hate him.
If he gives me one single chance, I'm snapping his fucking neck. I know his filthy hands are violating me, but I have comfort in knowing he can't rape me in this position. He'd have to untie me, and that is something I look forward to him trying.
He may know who I am, but this man doesn’t know me at all. I may be being fondled by this monster, but the love I have for myself, my family, and Kaleb will give me the strength to get through this.
He takes both of his hands to the neck of my shirt and rips it down the middle. His face is filled with anticipation as he stands over me, allowing his eyes to scrape over my body. His dark gaze stays glued to the swells of my breast. I can feel my insides twisting with the urge to kill him.
He moves behind me, disappearing from my sight, so I begin to memorize everything in my view. I can hear him pick up something from a table while I’m looking at a blank, white wall in front of me. The carpet looks like that of an older hotel maybe, the ceiling painted with the rough, splattered texture.
He steps back into my view, and with a repulsive grin on his face, he starts twirling a skinning knife with a gut hook in front of me. “I could take these tits off and send them to him. I’m positive that would make the statement I’m not fucking playing around.” I don’t make a sound. In fact, I’m sure he thinks I’m challenging him with the look in my eyes.