Page 22 of Resurrect Me

Standing in front of me, he holds a picture up for me to see. I grimace. My nostrils flare and my eyes dart away instinctively. Though I know I shouldn’t be showing my disdain for this man. I should be acting like I like him. It’s a polaroid from the early two-thousands. From high school. I’m sitting on a log in the woods, beside my best friend and coven-mate (or fellow cult member) and we are topless. Orion is standing behind us, a ritual knife in one hand and a metallic chalice in the other. He’s cloaked in black. We aren’t smiling. We have dead eyes. This is a picture of my initiation.

“I’ve kept this for years, Tacy,” Orion lulls. There’s a smooth, steady pace to his voice. As if he’s singing a nursery rhyme to achild. Trying to get me to fall asleep. “Look at you. You were so beautiful. You still are.”

“Thank you,” I say through grinding teeth. What I want to say is fuck you. My body is trembling now. I can’t control the adrenaline filling my veins. I can’t believe he kept that picture after all this time. I had hoped he’d forgotten about me. Started a cult with new members. Or had been incarcerated.

“You were always my favorite, you know,” he says and holds the picture into the light so that he can examine it closer. “Remember that day we discovered that creek in the woods? Behind the old cabin?”

I nod my head and watch as he pulls the ball gag from his pocket. Not again.

“I haven’t screamed,” I say as he moves towards me holding the rubber ball out in front of him.

“Oh, I know. You’ve been on your best behavior,” he coos. “Unlike the old Tacy. She was a wild one. I kind of prefer her over this new Tacy.”

“When is the guy coming to take me?” I ask and change the subject. I’m tired of revisiting the past with this sick prick. It’s taken me years of bottling up my memories and controlled BDSM with my husband to even start healing from the things this mother fucker forced me to do. I’d rather not relive them in this disgusting, trashy basement.

“Tomorrow. In the morning,” he says and re-pockets the gag. “If you promise to stay quiet, I’ll keep this out of your mouth.”

I nod my head but say nothing. Orion approaches me slowly, his hand rising inch by inch, as if he was a lion tamer carefully making his way over to a lion. He stands right in front of me,crouches down so that we are nose to nose, and caresses my face with the side of his hand. I withdraw and nearly fall off the bucket.

“Next time you scream or try to run, I’ll fuck you senseless.”

He grabs my shirt and pulls me towards him, then shoves his tongue in my mouth. He tastes like beef and stale coffee, and I want to scream or bite off his tongue, but I can’t do anything. I’m just comatose. If I fight him, he might do something worse. Flashes of the altar in the woods flood my mind. Jab at my brain like an ice pick. I cringe and allow him to rub his tongue over my palate, tastebuds, and teeth. Then a hand grabs my breast, and I pull back.

“Please don’t,” I beg him. But he squeezes my breast harder, grabs the back of my head, and covers my mouth with his again.

I realize I have a clear shot to his crotch. I could knee him and run for the stairs. If I hit him hard enough, he’ll go down and I’ll have enough time to outrun him. Make it up the steps and lock him out.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One! I jab my foot into the bulge between his legs, and just as I hoped, he falls over sideways, grabbing his balls and cursing me. I leap over him and sprint for the stairs, bounding, skipping every other step. I make it to the top and realize my hands are still tied, so I have to turn around and feel for the knob with bound hands. I feel the metal in my hand and turn, just as Orion hits the bottom of the steps. FUCK. I jiggle the knob but it’s not turning.

“Come on you son of a bitch, open!” I yell.

Orion’s almost at the top when the knob turns and I fall through the door, with my captor once again falling on top of me and gaining control.

“FUCK!” I scream. Every ounce of me knows I can’t win this fight, but I have to try anyway.

He's breathing in my face, sweating and panting, and threatening to end me. He withdraws his knife, and the serrated blade gleams in the dim light. We’re in a hallway next to a dingy kitchen.

Orion takes his time showing me the size of the blade then he presses it to my throat. The tip of it digs in just enough to break the skin. I shriek.

“That’s it, bitch. I’m sacrificing you to the gods. But not before I gut you like a fucking animal and eat your intestines in front of you. I’ll bet their tasty, like every other sweet little part of you,” he grunts.

My ribs crack under his weight, but I’m more focused on the steel entering my flesh. I beg him one last time, “please. Orion. For old times’ sake. Don’t do this.”

“You had your chance, Tacy Bear,” he whispers and slides the knife in a little further.

I cry out again and close my eyes, waiting for my throat to be cut. Everything starts to turn red and then black. It’ll happen any second now…

Orion rolls off me. I open my eyes just as someone puts a bullet in Orion’s forehead. Right between his eyes. The blood sprays out behind him, soaking the open basement door and the tan linoleum floor.

I sit up and scream. The sheer shock of what just happened overwhelms me, and I don’t know if I want to puke or run. Whoever this masked man is, he just saved my life. Or was this the guy coming to pick me up?

I stare at this masked intruder, who’s wearing a pair of black fitted joggers and a black henley with black boots. And, to top it off, a red devil’s mask that covers his entire head. He’s just standing there in the kitchen, next to the fridge, gun at his side, staring back at me.

I squint and barely make out his eyes. They’re green. He’s silent.

“Are you here to take me?”

The red mask nods up and down.

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