Page 18 of Wicked Games

“Not yet, chére. Once we can trust you not to run, then you can go out wid us.”

While Marlowe relaxes in the bath, I turn my attention to cleaning up the mess we’ve made. I gather the soiled sheets and toss them into a laundry hamper, making a mental note to wash them later. Wilder joins me, silently assisting with the cleanup, his expression a complicated mix of concern and care.

After tidying the room, I glance at Wilder, silently communicating the need to give Marlowe some space to recover. We sit on the couch that is in Wild’s room, sitting our bodies tense with emotions. We know that our desires and actions are unconventional, but we also know that our intentions toward Marlowe are genuine.

As we wait for Marlowe to finish her bath, we share a brief conversation, discussing our next steps. We both understand the importance of communication and consent, and we agree that it’s essential to check in with Marlowe and ensure she feels safe and comfortable moving forward.

Finally, Marlowe emerges from the washroom, her body wrapped in a fluffy towel. She looks tired, yet there’s a hint of contentment in her eyes. We offer her a warm smile, silently assuring her we’re here for her.

“You feeling okay, Marlowe?” Wilder asks gently, his voice filled with genuine concern.

She nods, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I’m just... processing everything.”

“We here for you, Marlowe,” I say softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “We’ll take things at your pace now, okay?”

She nods again, and I hand her a pad of paper and a pencil so she can make a list of all the things she needs to be comfortable here.

Chapter 13

Marlowe

One Month Later

I’ve fallen into this little routine we’ve developed, the twins and I. The days blur all together, and more often than not, I don’t know what day of the week it is. Today marks one month since they killed my family and kidnapped me. I thought they would let me have my own room by now, but that hope was quickly shattered.

Initially, they alternated nights. One night I would sleep with Wilder and the next with Ollie. This continued for about a week. But then, everything changed. On that fateful night, I found myself in Ollie’s room, peacefully sleeping. The door creaked open, and the mattress dipped behind me. It was Wilder, his muscular arms enveloping me. As if Ollie could sense his brother’s presence, he shifted in his sleep, throwing his leg over mine and rolling into my chest.

At that moment, I realized they weren’t lying about needing me. It was a strange realization, being trapped between these two men who had caused me so much pain, yet finding comfort in their proximity. They created a little Marlowe sandwich as they slept. It was both unsettling and oddly fulfilling, knowing that I was fulfilling some purpose for them.

Before I came into the picture, all they had was each other. They relied on each other for human connection and love. I don’t think they ever crossed any lines but the thought plays at the back of my mind. They shareme willingly and when we all have sex, they don’t shy away from seeing each other. More often than not, sex is a group activity. In the past month, I can only count five times I have had sex with only one of them at a time.

Fear still grips me, the constant worry they’ll hurt me again at some point. But for now, I am giving them whatever it is they are seeking. It’s a twisted sense of satisfaction, being needed in this way. I can’t help but acknowledge the messed up state of my mind.Marlowe, your head is fucked.

As the twins come downstairs, their faces light up with excitement at the sight of me preparing breakfast for them. It’s a slight gesture, but it brings them so much joy. And in a way, it brings me joy too. I stayed, despite being forced into this life.

I could have tried to run again. But, here I am.

What other options do I have? With my family dead and my future shattered, I have no means to pay for school or even make it out to California. This life, as unexpected as it may be, is now my reality. Surprisingly, the twins have been nothing short of gentlemen, going above and beyond to provide for me.

They have bought me everything I have asked for, supporting me in ways I never thought possible. It’s as if they’re trying to atone for the burden they caused me. And while it may be unconventional, I have found solace in their kindness.

I stir the grits and flip the shrimp in the pan. A sense of gratitude washes over me. Despite the hardships I’ve endured, I have found a glimmer of hope in this unexpected family dynamic. The twins may be attempting to make things right for how we ended up together.

So, I embrace this new chapter in my life, accepting the role I have taken on. Despite not choosing this path, I will make the best of it. Maybe, with the twins’ help, I can rebuild my future and discover a new purpose.

Ollie and Wilder sit at the breakfast table as I dish up their bowls with the grits, a pat of butter, and the shrimp. Setting the bowls in front of them, Ollie grabs my hand and kisses my palm, something he has taken to doing daily. I look down at him and give him a soft half-smile before caressing his face. Wilder’s lunch box awaits on the counter for me to pack with my homemade treats for his workday.

Since I joined, the twins have rotated their work shifts at the slaughterhouse to accommodate being home with me. While I fill Wilder’s lunch box with the sandwiches and snacks I prepared, I can’t help but feel a sense of purpose. It may seem like a simple task, but knowing that I am contributing to their day brings me a sense of fulfillment.

“Baby girl, are you gon sit down an’ eat?” Wilder asks as he pauses in his eating. “You need to make sure you eatin’.”

Yes, I need to make sure my body is being nourished. Even though I am young and very fertile, they are worried about not being able to father children because I am not pregnant yet. I cried at the thought initially. These two men want me to carry their babies being only eighteen. Now, it’s strange to think I am coming around to the idea.

Ever since I joined their lives, I have witnessed their unwavering dedication to providing for me. They work tirelessly at the slaughterhouse, enduring grueling hours and demanding physical labor. It’s not an easy job, but they do it without complaint. They have taken on the role of providers, ensuring that I have everything I need.

I often wonder why they feel the need to go above and beyond for me. Is it guilt for the burden they placed upon me? Or perhaps it is their way of expressing gratitude for my presence in their lives. Whatever the reason may be, their kindness has become a source of solace for me.

In this unconventional family dynamic, I have found a glimmer of hope. As the twins finish their breakfast and head off to finish their morning routines, I take a moment to reflect on what life means now.

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