Page 16 of Grave Possession

Ew. Ew. Ew.

He tugs on the tether and I have no choice but to obey. I don’t think I could stand another beating in retaliation for resisting. I’m covered in bruises, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked one of my ribs from the rage that exploded out of him yesterday. It could’ve been much worse though.

While Dennis’s beatings were more severe, they weren’t daily, so I had time to recover between them. There’s no way he could send me to work looking like a punching bag and not have someone in town alert the police. The one time I ended up with a broken wrist was enough to set Rita on edge. She watched me like a hawk whenever Dennis was near. Every interaction he or my mother had with me on hotel property, she tried to witness. The shitty thing about abusers is that they know how to hide who they truly are from the world.

I follow the deranged cop up the cellar stairs, and out into the fresh afternoon air. I don’t get a single moment to bask in the sun before he’s pulling me along behind him. We round the side of the cabin to the front door. It’s significantly smaller than I expected for how much I hear him walking around above me while I’m forgotten below the surface.

He leads me through the front door, passing a small kitchen and living area, down towards a dark hallway. Stopping at the first door on the right, he swings it open. The dank, musty smell of moisture-ridden wood hits my nose, and I’m almost sure there’s mold growing in every corner of this bathroom. The toilet is straight repulsive and I have to actively try to avoid looking at it. The porcelain surface of the sink, shower, tub, and toilet are discoloured. Yellowed from hard water deposit ,and rust stains from the metal fixtures. This is a cleaner’s worst nightmare come to life.

“Strip them nasty things off and climb on in,” he says, closing the door behind us and locking the knob. He bends to turn the water on as I comply, pulling the crustygarments from my body. He steps aside, allowing me the space I need to climb into the tub in this already suffocatingly cramped bathroom. The frigid water cascades over me, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my skin, and my nipples stiffen from the cold. Suppressing a shiver, he groans his appreciation at my body’s reaction to the chill.

“Takes a while for the water to warm up, but when it does, it doesn’t last long, so I’d get a move on if I were you.” I listen, not wanting to spend another millisecond naked and waiting around for hot water that will never come.

There’s no shower curtain so I have a clear view of his eyes roving over every exposed inch of my body. They linger on my most intimate parts, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more vulnerable and terrified. Even being naked with Ghost was never this kind of scary.

I’m trying to ignore him as I scrub the build up of filth from my skin with the lukewarm water. The body wash smells like roses, it’s pungent and much too strong for my liking. There’s no shampoo or conditioner, and only a sponge that’s meant for washing dishes for me to scrub myself clean with. It’s abrasive but works great at removing the grime from my body. I welcome the rough texture that scratches across my skin, removing the cells of mine that he’s touched. My hair is a knotted mess as I try to work the soap through it. Watching disheartened as chunks of my hair swirl down the drain. It’s lost its soft and silky texture after being grabbed, ripped, dragged through the dirt, and caked in decomposing bodily fluids. It’s ragged and dry, the strands feeling like straw as I try to rinse the terrible smelling cleanser from my hair. Closingmy eyes, I try to pretend I’m somewhere else. Anywhere that isn’t here, being leered at by a fucking murderer.

His hand cups my breast, and I’m pulled back into this hell. He hasn’t cum yet, and I’m fearful the shower is a precursor to him trying to stick his shrimp dick in me, but I know I’m going to have to do something to earn whatever is in those two big shopping bags.

In his other hand he holds my leash, the chain swinging from side to side outside the grimy, discoloured shower. The heavy weight of it causes the collar around my neck to rub in the most uncomfortable way, irritating the welts and sores that have formed from my time wearing it. “Don’t forget to wash your cunt,” he grumbles. I want to ‘forget’ so I can use it as a deterrent, but I don’t want some weird flesh eating disease from everything I’ve been exposed to. Squaring my resolve, I abandon the sponge and soap up my palms, slowly turning my body away from him. I hope he won’t notice so I can wash with some semblance of privacy but he makes a grumbling sound of disapproval then says, “Nuh-uh, turn back around, and spread ‘em.”

Chapter Twelve

Unknown

There’s the terror I haven’t seen in days. I inhale it, the fear seeping out of her and infiltrating the air around us. My darlin's eyes shine with tears she refuses to spill as she stuffs down her embarrassment. The emotions I’m looking for are there for a moment, and then fade away in an instant. Watching the impassivity smooth over her features as she begins to slowly angle her body my way pisses me off like nothing else. Why can she be whatever Officer Graves wants, but with me she turns into an indifferent cunt? I’ll fucking get what I want from her, even if I have to cut her to the core.

She fully turns to me, running her soapy hands down to her pussy. I don’t think she could clamp her thighs together any tighter if she tried.

“Don’t be shy, darlin’, put that leg up and let me see it all.” I say, patting the side of the tub. She scowls so sourly at me I can’t contain the laugh that bursts out. That girl could curdle milk with a single look. She fucking hates me in this moment and it’s making me sogoddamn horny. I’ll break her, watch the fight leak out of her, as I fuck her tight snatch.

Blood thickens the meat between my legs and I have the urge to coat it in her sticky, red life force. I double check the lock on the door to ensure it’s engaged then turn back to her. The bathroom is tiny, taking no time at all to snuff out the distance between us. She stares me down, two apex predators circling and sizing each other up. Except I’m the only predator here, she’s just a sheep trying to pass as a wolf.

I pull the pocket knife from its trusted place in my right front pocket. Her eyes widen, flicking between my face and the concealed blade in my hand. “Did you really think you could get by on sub-par blow jobs?” I taunt. “Do I have to remind you what happened to the last bitch who didn’t want to put out?” She starts to sink to her knees, “Not this time, sugar.” She pauses, then returns to a standing position. While the thought of taking her mouth does cross my mind, I want that prime real estate tonight. I don’t know when her boyfriend will be back, but the next time I see him, I want to revel in the memory of my dick buried in her cunt. It’s my blade she will bleed on, my darkness she will match, and my hands she will meet death at. Just…not yet.

I hear her deep inhale and exhale, it pulls me from my little fantasy of taunting the golden boy. “What are you going to do with that little toothpick?” she sasses. Shit, she’s got a sharp mouth on her.

“Well, I’m sure if I poke you in the right spot, you’ll bleed just fine.” I graze my fingers across her cheek, the cuts from my previous poking have almost healed, but Istill feel the imperfections in her skin. She slaps my hand away, and it lights the fuse on the bomb ticking in my chest. With a speed I didn’t know I was capable of, I wind up and backhand her. The violent sound echoing through the claustrophobic room followed by her gasp of surprise. The blow throws her off balance and she slips on the wet porcelain surface, falling down onto the faucet. The shower switch depresses upon impact, and I lean in to turn off the water. Blood blooms on her brow, painting her alabaster skin in my favourite colour. She groans, and I briefly wonder how many brain injuries someone can take before they become a pile of goop. My fingers sink into her hair, curling, and wrenching a beautiful wail from her lips. “Not so stoic when you’re borderline unconscious, are you, darlin’?” I tilt her face to meet my gaze.

“F-fuck you,” she growls.

“Did you know that most serial killers have brain damage? It usually happens as a kid, and it fucks up somethin' in the front of the brain somewhere. I blame my mother’s firm hand for mine, but I’d love to experiment with you and see if a few more knocks to the head will shake some screws loose.”

“It’s frontal lobe damage, you nitwit,” she slurs as I release her. I clench my fist and knock her shit into next week. Mallory’s head whips back, the short leash of her collar pulling taught. I jerk it towards me and she flies face first into the side of the tub. Seemingly unconscious, she crumples down into the basin. Blood pools beneath her face, starting its path down to the drain. I watch entranced as it mixes with the water remnants and swirls around the pipe hole before flowing inside.

I pull her head back and see her crooked nose.How fitting.You break my nose, I break yours. Aligning my thumbs on each side of her nose, I push it back into place. Normally I wouldn’t care, the last face I smashed I didn’t fix. But I do have to look at her, and I want her to be as pretty as possible for as long as I can manage. Crooked and crushed cartilage won’t work for me long term.

“Get up,” I snap. She doesn’t so much as stir, but I know not to trust her. Last time she socked me good because I thought she was out like a light, and she wasn’t.

I tug her up by the chain and hold her there, swaying back and forth like a pendulum. Her gurgling assures me she’s about to pass out from the pressure of her dead weight on her neck. Satisfied I won’t have to deal with her shit, I scoop her up in my arms and sling her over my shoulder. Grabbing her fresh clothes off the counter, I unlock the door, and make my way outside, back to the cellar.

The moment the cool breeze kisses her naked skin she bucks, throwing her knee into my chin. “AHH! You bitch!” I screech. She tries to thrash out of my hold, causing both of us to tumble to the ground. Ensuring the chain is wrapped tight around my fist, I keep my other arm banded around her legs so I don’t get kicked in the face again. The back of her skull bounces off the hard ground, dazing her.

I have no desire to wait for her to heal again, she will run for me tomorrow, whether she can see straight or not. It’s her fault, she can live with the consequences.

She’s stunned and I take full advantage of herdelirious state. Lunging over her body, I free my rock hard cock. Quickly, I wrap the excess chain around her delicate wrists and pin both beneath my grip. Spitting into the palm of my other hand, I coat my dick and stab it into her cunt. She cries out from the brutal intrusion and her pussy walls shred with each thrust. Her screams are music to my ears as I rut into her, taking what I want. However, she’s as dry as the desert and it’s hurting my dick. I retrieve the knife from my pocket, using my teeth to pull the blade out from within the handle. I sink the sharpened steel into her shoulder, and she shrieks in agony. I slowly pull it out, then press it back in, over and over, again and again, timing it to the movement of my cream machine as it saws in and out of her ravaged cunt.

I withdraw the blade and watch as blood wells at the puncture site. Pressing the blunt side of the knife into my chin forces the blade back into the handle, and I swiftly return it to my pocket. I push my finger into the wound, swirling it around inside her meat. The hole is no bigger than a copper coin, it shouldn’t have caused any real damage.

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