Content Warnings: murder, implications of CSA, in depth talk of CSA (reader), victim blaming, letting an assailant walk free, thoughts of past suicide, warped sense of reality
PLEASE READ THESE WARNINGS CAREFULLY. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF WHILE READING THIS CHAPTER. I UNDERSTAND IF YOU CANT READ IT. THERE WILL BE A NON-TRIGGERING RECAP AT THAT START OF CHAPTER TEN. AGAIN... READ THOSE WARNINGS CAREFULLY, THEY ARE THERE FOR A REASON!
...
Bang
Bang
Bang
The echos of the gun rings in my ears and makes me smile. I watch his body hit the ground with a loud thud. If I could spit on him I would've. Fucker ruined my life in more ways than I would care to admit. This time, as I pulled the trigger, my hands didn't shake and the sound of the gun didn't make me close my eyes.
There was no fear, no hesitation, no reservations. He got what he deserved.
"How did that feel?" Spencer asks me once we're sure he's dead. He being the man who took away my innocence. The man who walked free after I provided ample amount of evidence to the courts of what he did to me.
I stared at him for a moment longer before answering, admiring my work and knowing he'd never harm anyone else again. I could see why Spencer enjoyed killing. The high was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. And I didn't want to end.
"So fucking good." He takes the gun from me and his fingers on mine feel like electricity. I feel like I'm on cloud nine.
He smiles at me as he puts it in the holster. It's then that I realize that I'm panting and unbelievably turned on. If I was honest, I would say I was a little afraid of just how much I enjoyed these feelings. I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he knows.
"I can tell." He looks down at the body spilling blood beside us "fucking asshole." I follow his gaze, the bullet hole in the center of his forehead making me smile.
"I see why you like this ... feels good." He starts wrapping up the body, collecting any and all incriminating evidence possible.
He nods "of course it feels good. Now he isn't on the street hurting other people. He's gone. He cant hurt you any more." He pulls me in and kisses me softly.
...
Three days earlier
The shaking wasn't stopping, no matter how many deep breaths I took. I was doing everything I could to not wake the man sleeping beside me. But it was to no avail.
"Pup? What's the matter sweetheart?" My heavy breathing making it hard for me to answer him. But I try.
"I-I had a b-bad dream." I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew he was going to make me. He always did. He claimed that it made things easier and less scary.
Spencer sits behind me, pulling me into his chest and holding me tight. "Shhh, I'm here. You're okay. No one can hurt you, my pet." His hands soothingly play with my hair and I can feel my heart rate slow the longer I breath him in.
"H-he can. He told me he can always get to me." I pull him tighter, needing him to ground me before I fall back into a panic attack.
"What? Who, baby? No one can get to you with me around. I promise." I shake my head. He wasn't invincible and no one cared then.
"Forget it. L-lets go back to sleep..." But he doesn't take that for an answer.
"Not till you tell me what that dream was about." Again, him always making me talk about what was happening so I could possibly over come it.
I grip him and hold him close, my ear at pressed to his chest so I can hear his beating heart. Grounding myself. "I was fifteen and he was my fathers best friend." I take a shaky breath and try hard to keep my voice steady. "I always thought that he was creepy. He just gave me a bad feeling. But he and my dad was so close that I didn't think anything of it."
Spencer rubs my back and kisses my head.
"Sometimes I think my mother had a feeling. She used to ask me to cover up when he was around. I couldn't wear shorts when he was there, or shirts that showed too much cleavage." I swallow hard but keep going. "So I did. I wasn't allowed to swim in our pool when he was around, which was a lot. And then, three fucking days before my sixteenth birthday, he acted on his urges."
Spencer grips my tighter, "did you tell anyone?"
I nod furiously, "I told my mother the next morning. We were close, you know. She was my best friend." I cant stop the smile that spreads at the memory of my mother. But it doesn't stay long.
"We went to the police the same day. I felt like I was violated all over again. I told that story so many times that day."
He plays with my hair slowly, "I know. That's really hard and I'm very proud of you for saying something." Obviously I loved when Spencer was proud of me. I spent most of our time together making sure I made him proud. But this was different. He could be proud of me all he wanted, but it didn't make my heart flutter like it usually does.
"They had so much evidence. Photographs were taken, DNA from ... everywhere. They had him. And then when it came to court? No one believed me. Know why?"
I'm sure he had an idea but he just shakes his head. I can feel his anger radiating off of him.
"Because my best friend took a photo of me on my 16th birthday with a fucking smile on my face. My parents bought me a car, one I really wanted. It was a moment in time. A fucking moment where I didn't feel like I wanted to rip off my skin. And it was used against me."
He sighs, "that's not fair."
I scoff, not angry with him, "no fucking shit, Spence. They let him walk... all because of that fucking picture. They said if I was really a victim, I wouldn't be smiling ever. It was like I couldn't be excited about my birthday. Truth be told? I wasn't excited for it. I felt disgusting and i just wanted to die. And after that?" I shutter.
He holds me tighter, his heart pounding in his chest as he listens to me. If there was one thing that I loved the most about Spencer, was his ability to listen to me. Like really listen to me.
"After the verdict, I sincerely never wanted to be more dead than that day. He told everyone I ruined his life, that I was a liar. I wasn't a liar, Spencer. But... money talks. He had more money than we did. And I lost. And I've lived with that for so long. I dream about that night so often. I hate it."
"You deserve to be believed. And I believe you, sweetheart." It takes him a moment before he murmurs, "we can make him pay."
I look up at him and I can tell he's serious, "you would do that for me?"
He laughs but I can tell its slightly humorless, "yes of course. You deserve justice. Do you know where he is now?"
I nod, "is it bad that I do? When I moved so did he. He followed me and told everyone I ended up meeting about what I did. He's divorced living in DC."
"Good... were going to find him then."
...
And find him we did