Page 12 of Beg for Death
My entire world tilted to the side, and I grabbed the sink to steady myself. My knees caved under my weight as everything played out like a bad sitcom.
"He's dead." The blond man had begged and pleaded to be freed, and instead of helping him, I—I shook my head. "No, I didn't have a choice." My defence felt as weak as it sounded coming from my parted lips.
If my captor hadn't been holding my hand then I wouldn't have ever done it. My fingers tingled still with the feeling of holding the knife and cutting through flesh radiating through them. It was like cutting through a steak except so much worse.
I twisted around and fell straight to my knees as I became close friends with the toilet. My back curled as bile burned the back of my throat and my nose. I heaved and hacked until my stomach twisted with nothing left to give. I still clutched the toilet, too afraid to pull away, not when I felt so nauseous.
Why?
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks.
"Why did you ask for help?"
There wasn't shit I could have done. I was in a worse spot than him. At least now he was dead and there was no torture for him. He wasn't being held against his will and left to wonder what his fate was. I wiped at my face angrily only to smear the blood more onto my skin.
"Fuck you." I wasn't even sure who I was cursing anymore; if it was the guy I just helped kill or my captor. "This is so fucking stupid. God-fucking-damn it." I pulled my foot back and kicked the base of the toilet. The pain that greeted me brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. I fell back down holding onto my foot. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
This isn't fair.
My chest felt like it was going to cave in as I tried to draw in more air. Between the steam from the shower and the pain, I couldn't catch my breath. Everything was coming at me all at once. After taking someone's life, I let him... And I'd liked it. I dropped my foot fast as I fell back over the toilet and dry heaved over into the bowl. Nothing came up. I didn't have anything left in me besides spit.
I took a shaky hand and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. This couldn't be my life now. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to anyone who would listen to wake me the hell up from this nightmare. The sound of the shower, my empty stomach, and the pain radiating up my leg let me know it was reality.
There was no escape, and after today, I wasn’t so certain I deserved to.
I shoved away from the toilet, flushing away the evidence of my shame, and I climbed into the shower. The water wasn't nearly hot enough. I turned it up more until the knob couldn't turn anymore. The pain was nothing compared to what I wasfeeling on the inside. Disgust, desire, fear, and confusion was a muddy mess inside of me I didn’t know how to navigate.
The water turned pink as it swirled around my feet and trickled down the drain. I watched it, unable to move until it went clear. Only then did I grab the soap and began to wash my body. I scrubbed every inch possible. I washed until my flesh turned pink, and even then, I kept going. The pain was the only thing holding me together.
It was stupid and yet I clung to it as if punishing myself would bring that man back to life. Why did he have me help kill him anyway? Again, I was left with more questions than the day he'd kidnapped me.
The water went cold, and still, I made no move to get out. Even as my teeth chattered and it felt like icicles were piercing my skin, I stayed standing there. The memory wouldn't let go. It was on a replay the blood, the pleads, the wet squelch sound that echoed around us as the knife went in deeper. The hot spray of blood as it squirted out. The warmth from my captor's hand as it wrapped around mine. His growl that invoked fear in me while coaxing something shameful from my body.
All of it was a disaster. I was a disaster.
The shower curtain disappeared, yanking me from the endless loop in my head. I jumped back and my spine slammed into the tile wall, forcing a wince out of me.
"What the hell are you doing, boy?"
My mouth opened and closed like a fish as everything replayed in my head, leaving me with no answer.
His hand was fast as his fingers tangled in my wet hair. He yanked me free of the ice-cold water and into the small space of the bathroom. There wasn't anywhere for me to move. If I moved forward, I'd be pressed up against him. If I moved back, I'd fall into the tub.
"Did you hear me? I asked you a question."
I nodded, sucking in a sharp breath at the pinprick of pain every single time I moved my head. His grip on my hair was unforgiving.
"Yes, sir." I sounded weak to my own ears, barely making out the words because of the blood rushing in my ears.
"Then why the fuck aren't you in the room waiting? I gave clear instructions." Before I could answer, he grinned at me. "Oh, I know you thought because you swallowed my cum I was going to start being nice to you."
What? No. That hadn't even crossed my mind. I opened my mouth to speak but the back of his hand connected with my cheek. Flames licked up the side of my face, stealing away any cold that was left behind from the shower.
I blinked a few times, unconsciously holding my breath. I stayed with my face turned until he yanked me forward. The little distance between us disappeared, leaving me no room to escape. I felt like a bunny caught in a snare trap.
There wasn't anything I could do but accept my fate. It was strange, but the moment I realized that, all thoughts stopped. I stopped questioning myself and instead stared at the ground.
"Room, now." He didn't release me or even allow me to grab a towel.
