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I thought about what had happened before, it was almost impossible to clearly perceive the events that were taking place. If I just looked at everything like I was watching a movie or reading a book, I would think it was fascinating. But to live in it, in the flesh…how terrifying I think that is. Almost so. Just thinking about it made my heart beat harder and faster in my chest, but this time was different than before. Moreover, I also have a feeling of heaviness, slackness, almost tingling in the abdomen. It reminds me of the feeling I had when I was a kid, playing hide and seek in the dark. I don't want to be caught, but just sitting there wondering if I'll be found is both exciting and scary. At that moment, I realized that suspense is what I like, not hide and seek. Being around Eric always caused that feeling. I kept seeing his face, eyes closed, head tilted to my hand, soft male flesh beneath his fingers. The whole thing played out over and over in my mind, but a series of flas
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I glanced around the room and tried not to faint from the sudden amount of blood draining from my face. Hanging from the cupboard door was Eric's jacket, and peeking out from below it was a shoulder holster. Is it possible? Oh my God, please be it? I reached for the soft cloth and lifted it up. It was the most massive gun I've ever seen, or rather the only one - but it was terrifying nonetheless. Feeling nauseous. A part of me wants to forget all the damned things and go back to bed. What do they say: cowardice is the good part of bravery? Wear it! I reached for the gun. This damn thing weighs a ton. The cupboard opened and for a second I was amazed at the number of painful tools hidden inside. Short whips, whips, chains and other strange things from the Real Sex movie I saw on HBO at Nicole's house. Is that a spiked penis? After a while, I fainted. Is he going to use this on me? Sick bastard. Yet… I came across a pair of handcuffs, many pairs in fact, with no fur trim on them. Does
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A few minutes later, I finally managed to push the chair close enough to the window. I climbed up there and fumbled for the ledge. Please let my thoughts be right. My heart screams in my ear and I close my eyes to fight the doubt. Finally, I felt a small trigger and my heart stopped beating completely. Glancing back at Eric. The anger had left his face, but the fingerprints were still there. I whispered a silent prayer, stepped down, and slid open the door. Eric's voice came from behind, "Kitten," he sounded worried or sad about, "Don't let me find you." Is that a threat? I won't stay to find out. Never looked back. I ran with all the strength my legs could muster. My lungs burned as my feet pounded on the dusty ground. It's still early, the ground hasn't warmed up yet. I wanted to scream for help, but wasn't sure I was far enough away for Eric to hear, so I just kept running. Up ahead, I saw a man in an apron pushing a sled full of crates into a building. "Help me!" The man looked
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“Where is she, Eric?” Raymond's tone of voice was angry, repressed. Eric knew it very well. It was the same tone of voice Raymond used when talking to Eric in the beginning, when he was still a difficult boy. He didn't like it, not even a little bit. It was early evening, and the girl was still missing. She must have run hundreds of miles by now. How the hell did he let her go? It didn't look like him at all to act so impulsively and stupidly. The first is the failure to firmly grasp the weapon. Then let her escape in the dead of night. And now it's time to involve anonymous actors. “I don't know where she is, Raymond. If I had known, I would have arrested her by now." "Really?" A question filled with implication. When did Raymond begin to suspect him? Since when did Eric give him a reason to do so? The answer to these two questions is, of course, right now. So Eric responded with the same anger and restraint. “I know how important she is, Raymond. I know why I'm here." To destroy
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After Eric left the pub, I hadn't moved from my hiding place beneath the bar for over an hour. At least I think so, my sense of time has really deteriorated. Repeated weeks of being held hostage in a dark room would do it. Finally, the hippo who calls himself Tiny pulled me by the arm and shook me until I stopped being hysterical. When I had calmed down, I asked, "Why are you helping me?" The guy just frowned at me. “Because you look like you really need help. And you're American." He led me outside, where the bartender, Javier, was waiting in an old pickup truck, rusty pale blue of unknown origin. I was afraid to get in the car. How would I know where they were going to take me, or what they were going to do once they got me where they wanted to go. All I know is that Tiny told me that I would be safe and that he would help me. If I had more options, I would avoid that sloppy motorcyclist as far as possible. The truth is this: I had no better choice, and he knew it. So I got into
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It's not too difficult to find out where the bartender lives, just wait for the patrons to come to the bar and wave a few large denomination US dollars. All residents of old countries understand the value of the dollar. American money represents American life, an opportunity to pursue the future you deserve rather than be manipulated. It's a future worth looting, killing, and selling souls for. Eric couldn't help but sneer at how easy it was to find the girl. He told her not to let him find him, and he was serious when he said that. Again, she refused to listen. Instead, Eric succeeded in defining his goal. A sense of victory welled up in him. But there's something else. Inconsistency. It's always a contradiction when it comes to her. What will he do when he sees her? Beating? Screaming? Slapping her butt until she bursts into tears and begs for mercy, or will covering her with kisses end the same way? With her he never knew, not until the moment took over him, controlling him. Eric
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I didn't bother to ask where to go. We drove off, too fast to consider jumping off, but I still had a faint glimmer of hope that this windy plan would work, and that I would be free. When Ti Hon's motorbike slows down, my heart beats faster. We're heading straight for Chihuahua. Nicole will meet us there tomorrow night with the money. How he would do it, I don't know. Worse, I don't know if he can do it. All I know is that he told Tiny that he would bring the money there. And if he's lying, it doesn't matter, I'll have a little more time. But first, we needed to stop to meet with the rest of the "gang" of Tiny. I don't enjoy seeing more people like Tiny, but as always, I have no choice, no voice. I pulled Eric's jacket tighter around me. Slowly, his scent spread to my nose, drawing my thoughts towards him. What will happen here? Is he looking for me? And why does that thought make me feel both terrified and hopeful? What do you expect? For a second, I wish I had just lay there besid
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She handed me a pair of cropped jeans and a tight leather jacket with a criss-cross strap fastened to the front. I can't stop myself from frowning at the whore-looking clothes. Suddenly my chest received a direct hit and a small pile of junk food fell to my feet. I gritted my teeth. And she replied with a scornful smile. The devil. I picked up the bag of chips and two protein bars. Yes, I will definitely repay her for this "delicious" food. She continued to maintain a balanced expression as she kicked more clothes into the corner of the room. “What, are you going to stand there or are you going to sit down and eat?” I looked at her skeptically. Then many very loud voices came from the other room. “Are you crazy about it?!?” More voices rang out. “Bringing that ferret here was a mistake, man.” someone said. “My God, Tiny, you should send her back while you still can,” said another. “Since when did you become a slut?” Ty Hon said. "What's up?" Nancy shot a dagger-like look at me
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