Page 20 of Worse Than Wicked
“Wait,” she whispers, a tremor going through her. “You’re going to hurt me.”
“It’s okay,” I say, stroking the side of her bruised throat, where her pulse flutters under my fingertips. “I have something that’ll relax you. It won’t hurt at all.”
I give her a pill, and even though she doesn’t like them the way I do, she takes it. “What is it?”
“Don’t worry, baby,” I say. “Just swallow it. You won’t feel a thing.”
She hesitates only a moment, then takes the glass of water I offer and washes it down. She’s out in minutes, the sedative doing its job. I lay still until I can’t bear it a moment longer, feeling her warm, bare body against mine. When she’s asleep, she doesn’t tighten up and cause herself more pain, and she doesn’t cum either. She hates when I make her do that.
I roll her over and fuck her as long as the Alice in my blood tells me to keep going. I know she’ll be sore when she wakes up, but she’ll probably think it’s mostly from Baron’s roughness. She doesn’t know I’m in Wonderland, and that I’ll be here for hours. Even if I tell her, she won’t make a big deal out of it. She’s given me permission before. She knows what she’s herefor, and she’ll probably be grateful that I spared her the ordeal of being awake for it. That’s the difference between me and Baron. He gets off on her pain. I get off on her.
A few hours later, I’m sweating my way through the comedown when Baron gets up and goes out for his run. Mabel’s still knocked out, so I slip from the bed and dress, considering whether to leave her like that. I decide it’s too risky—Baron will be pissed to find her alone even if she’s asleep. Instead, I cuff her and tie her to the bed. Baron will like that. She’ll be all ready for him when he gets back.
Or maybe that Black Widow chick will find her like this. Maybe I’ll come back and find her eating Mabel out, sucking my cum out of her, and she’ll be fingering herself and all wet and needy, and I’ll fuck her from the back, and Mabel will wake up and be pissed to see my dick in someone else, but she won’t be able to get away, and the Black Widow will force her to squirt while she cums all over my cock, screaming my name into Mabel’s wet pussy.
Or maybe I’ve been watching too much porn at work.
In the kitchen, Boots watches me warily, then lets out an evil hiss when I come near.
I hiss back at him, and he draws up, his eyes as round as saucers, looking gravely offended.
“Oh, get over it,” I mutter to him. “Your girl loves me.”
He arches his back, his orange fur standing on end when I walk past.
“Sucks to suck,” I tell him, opening the pantry.
I search for some gum to keep from grinding my teeth, but we must not have gotten any, and the thought of eating makes me retch. I toss a few treats on the counter for Boots, not bothering to set him on the floor since he’s not supposed to get up on stuff. I figure we should let the little guy live his life inpeace, not try to teach him rules. Humans already have way too many of those.
Then I grab the keys and head out. It’s bitter cold outside, and the sun is sharp as knives, the light more silver than gold this time of year. I almost hit a car going around one of the turns on the way up the hill and realize I’m doing about forty over the speed limit, way over the line. I wrestle the car under control, then keep going. The other guy ends up in the ditch, but they didn’t hit anything, so they’ll be fine, and I really don’t want to be cussed at. I go slower now, watching the speedometer, since I can’t really tell how fast I’m going when I’m fucked up.
I park at the lookout, then cross the road. I figure I’ll be able to see Baron’s tracks and follow them to where he was last night. He’ll remember where he left the body. That’s not something Baron would forget, and since I wasn’t there when he killed her, I’m not sure exactly where she ended up after I gave her the light and the gun and told her to run.
I picture her huddled against a tree, waiting for me. Baron took the gun, so she can’t hurt me. She won’t want to, anyway. She’ll be so happy to see me, so grateful, she’ll forget that I didn’t save her before. I’ll be her savior now. I’ll bring her home, and when Olive sees her, she’ll forgive me for bashing her head in. She’ll show Blue all the sloth stuff I got her, and Blue will see how much I love her sister, and she’ll fall in love with me. Baron won’t even care. He has Mabel, and when he sees how happy they make me, he’ll let me have Blue, and we’ll raise Olive together as our daughter. No kid on earth will ever be more spoiled than we spoil her. She deserves it, after everything she’s had to go through already.
Of course that’s not possible, though.
It’s just a drug-dream, a wisp of Wonderland clinging to me even now that I’m back up the rabbit hole, on solid ground. In reality, she’d probably file a restraining order and tell menever to come near her little sister again. In reality, it’s been six months, and she’s not going to be waiting like it’s the next day after I left her. And it turns out that it’s a lot harder to track someone than I thought. I can’t find any footprints at all in the leaves and pine needles. Finally, I find a partial one in the sand, and I head down the hill. I have the shakes, and my stomach feels fucked up, but I’m hyper focused. I need to find her. For Olive, I’ll find her. Even if I can never see her again, never tell her I’m sorry, it would be my way of making amends.
But I don’t see another footprint, and for all I know, I could be ten yards, a hundred yards, from where Baron went. Maybe I already passed it. I can’t seem to keep track of time. I wander around in the woods until I’m pretty sure I’m lost. I hear a twig snap and spin around, but there’s nothing. I keep seeing flashes in the corners of my eyes. Whatever animal ate Blue, maybe it’s out here. Stalking me.
Maybe it’s the Black Widow, ready to claim one more victim. Maybe Blue has been living out here in the woods, surviving on acorns, waiting for me to return to the scene of the crime, the betrayal, so she can jump out of the trees like a superhero and blow my brains out. If Baron spared her, she could have spared him in return. He might have bargained for his life by telling her he’d send me instead. It would be such a tidy way to be rid of me, so he could have Mabel to himself.
I hear a car and consider running out and hitchhiking. Even if it’s the wrong road, it’ll lead me somewhere. I think about walking along the road like she did the night Baron picked her up, on his way out of Faulkner. But look what happened to her when she hitchhiked. If that’s not a cautionary tale, I don’t know what is. I’d probably get someone even more psycho than Baron. At least he loves the people he loves. Some psychos don’t love anyone. If karma’s real, I’d get one of those.
It was winter then too, just about one year ago, but it feels like a lifetime has come and gone since then, and I don’t think it’s just the drugs fucking with my sense of time. I think about what I was doing that night—not being a hero. Not saving my father.
Is that his ghost between the trees, watching? I walk towards it, not daring to blink. He’s standing there, a dark shadow, a frown of disapproval on his face. But when I’m close, he melts away, and it’s nothing but the shadow of a tree trunk.
Dad isn’t here to save me from myself. That’s all he wanted to do.
I think about him burning to death. Screaming for help.
I was sitting on Lo’s car, smoking a cigarette with Colt while he died.
Maybe, if I hadn’t been itching for that closeness, to prove something to him—that I was good enough for his sister, cool enough for him—I would have gone back in.
I might have saved Dad.
