Chapter Twenty-Five
Trapped
Part Two
When Skye stirred from her deep, heavy slumber, everything seemed fuzzy. Her vision was cloudy, her body numb; she felt deprived of something, although she couldn't be sure of what. Blinking her heavily lidded eyes, she looked around the distorted room, searching for some kind of explanation.
All she found was warm walls, earth toned furniture, a ceiling fan, window, and two doors that gave away nothing but the fact that she was no longer in Bryan's home. From what she could tell, she'd been moved into a cabin of some sort, left alone.
As her senses started to kick in, she noticed a harsh, strong grip on both her ankles and wrists, holding her in place. Ever so slowly, she tugged on one of the restraints at her wrists, testing it. The rope didn't allow much, and she ended up getting nowhere, giving up.
It was no use. She was trapped. Like a bird in a cage. Helpless.
Stifling a sob, she lay still, thinking about how she'd managed to get herself into this mess in the first place. She'd called Rachel, found out Johnny had taken her, agreed to meet him, and rushed to her best friend's aid, only to be caught in a sick man's game. He'd wanted her all along, and despite the part of her that had been prepared for this moment—prepared to face Johnny and her own fears—she began to break down under the circumstances.
Could there really be any hope for her? She was not only bound and lost, but also utterly terrified and helpless. What good could she do to save herself now? She was too weak—too exhausted. Nothing seemed to be on her side.
A small clicking sound rang in her ears, snapping her from her state of mind. She froze, her body on sudden high alert. Her heart began thudding inside her chest; anxiety pulsed through her veins. She swallowed, closed her eyes, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for Johnny.
And all too soon, there was a soft thud of the door hitting the wall, and a shuffle of feet, giving Johnny's presence away in an instant. She could sense him watching her, hear his steady breathing, and feel his presence like an awful frost-bite on her subconscious, chilling her to the core.
"You're awake," he said, sighing. "Finally. I was starting to worry I'd drugged you too much." He shut the door, taking his time. "It's been over an hour, in case you're wondering. Rachel should be waking up soon, too."
Slowly, she braved opening her eyes, careful to avoid his gaze. "You're not worried she'll call for help?" Her stomach dropped at the horrifying memory of Rachel's abused body. "You must know she'll try."
"I'm aware," he said, almost pleasantly. "In fact—I'm looking forward to it. See, the thing is, even if she gets the authorities involved it won't stop me. It won't stop us from being together, like we should be."
She choked on the bile in her throat, utterly disgusted. No, she replied silently, too shaken to speak aloud. It will. You're never going to get away with this, Johnny. I'll never be with you.
He smiled—a sick, repulsive twitch of the lips. "If you have something to say, Princess, just say it."
She turned her face towards him, glaring, and shook her head. "I have nothing to say to you."
"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart," he crooned, stepping towards her. "You'll learn to enjoy my company, soon. Everything will be just fine. You just have to remember to listen to me, okay?"
"You've taken everything I love away from me," she snapped, voice cracking. She fought back the tears that threatened to leak. "Nothing will ever be 'just fine' again. And you're kidding yourself if you think I'll ever enjoy your company. I can't stand being around you. You make me sick."
"Now we're getting somewhere." He smirked, reaching out to catch a lock of her hair in his fingers. "I like it when you're honest with me, Princess, but I can't have you running your mouth like that, either. And if you want to keep your 'innocence' intact, I suggest you start keeping some of your thoughts to yourself. Things will go better for you if you don't fight what's going to happen."
Stricken with an aggressive surge of fear, Skye recoiled, pulling herself as far away from Johnny as she possibly could with her restrictions. "What do you want from me, Johnny?" Her voice was small and weak, showing fear she wanted so desperately to hide. "Why are you doing this?"
He leaned in, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed their foreheads together, sighing. "I just want you, Skylar. I've always wanted you." He brushed his lips over hers, inhaling. "Everything I've done has been for you."
She whimpered, blinking back tears. "No, stop—"
"Shh, don't worry, Princess—it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Please—" she croaked, trying to pull away. "Don't." Bitter sobs shook her body as Johnny pressed his lips against hers and kissed her, invading a boundary she wished he hadn't. She had to fight the urge to gag, repulsed by Johnny's sick tongue probing its way into her mouth. Her stomach lurched at his taste, so bitter, so vile, she could hardly bear it.
When he finally pulled his lips away, Skye gasped for air, choking on the aftermath of his aggression. "Johnny," she whispered, mentally slapping herself for how weak and insecure she was being. "Please—don't touch me. Not like that."
He frowned, gave his head a little shake. "I'm sorry, Skye—but I've wanted to be with you for so long. It's not easy for me to hold myself back, especially with you right here, so close to me." He pushed himself onto the bed, placing himself above her. "And besides, it's not like you've been very respectful to me in the past. Things could be much worse; I could be making you do things you're not ready for, or hurting you—but I'm not. I'm being merciful, instead." He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavy. "You should be grateful."
She shivered, feeling his teeth graze her soft, tender skin. "I-I am grateful," she lied. It wasn't entirely a lie though; she was grateful he hadn't made her do anything she wasn't ready for—this time. But then again, he'd already abused her too many times for her to trust that he'd really be able to hold himself back if the time came. "I-I'm sorry—I guess I'm just afraid." She swallowed hard, biting back what she really wanted to say. She had to be strong now; she had to fight for her own freedom. And maybe—if she told Johnny what he wanted to hear—she'd have a chance at winning this battle.
It was the only hope she had left.
"It's okay, Princess. I know this is all must be very strange for you." He nipped at a soft spot, pressed his lips against the skin. "But everything will be okay. I promise."
She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to cry out. His touch created an overwhelming feeling of disgust, making her skin crawl. "Can I ask you something?"
He smiled against her skin. "Anything."
Her heart was pounding, but she tried to calm herself down, too afraid that if she didn't keep herself together she'd later regret it. She had no choice but to fake trust in him. "Why?" Her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat. "Why do you want me so badly? Why do all of this just . . . to have me?"
He hesitated, lips parting from her skin. His breath was warm and heavy on her skin when he let out a long breath, before saying, ever so softly, "Because you're just like her."
Her eyes flashed open; body went rigid—suddenly wide awake. Her? She tried to wrap her mind around what he'd just told her, perplexed by the deep sorrow she'd heard in his voice. Could there have been another girl? A girl like me?
"Who was she?" she managed, finding her voice. "What happened to her?"
"Scarlett," he said, quietly. "Scarlett Newman—the first girl I ever loved." Skye could feel his body shaking around hers, just barely, as he propped himself up, hands on either side of her head. His stricken gaze bore into hers, so raw, so torn, so vulnerable, it was like nothing she'd ever seen from him before. "I was going to propose for her hand in marriage, but before I could, she was taken from me."
"Taken?" she asked, genuinely intrigued. "What happened, Johnny?"
"He killed her," he spat, brows furrowing in disgust. "He had no shame, no remorse. He was just a soulless monster that ruined my life."
"Who?"
"My father." His voice was laced with disdain. "He didn't care about anyone but himself. After years of abusing his family—me, my mother, and sister—he eventually broke down completely and told me I had to help him get rid of them, or he'd kill me too. He made me watch as he took their lives—and Scarlett's—before taking his own life and leaving me with no one. He'd always hated me. But he'd also always wanted me to be like him." He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and sat up, straddling Skye's waist. "I guess in a way, he got what he wanted."
"No—he didn't." Subtly, she tested the bonds again, searching for some way of escape. When they didn't budge, she focused all her attention on Johnny. "You don't have to be like him, Johnny. You can be different—better—than he was. You can change."
"So you agree, then?" His hands ventured down to her waist, and then lazily crawled upwards. She stifled a gasp, the feel of his hands sending the darkest of memories to her mind. "I've turned into him."
She froze for a moment before shaking her head, taken aback. "No— you haven't—I—"
He bent down, leaned in. "Just admit it, Skylar—you're afraid of me. You're afraid of the kinds of feelings I have towards you. But wait—it's more than that. You're not only afraid, but also disgusted with me. I mean—don't get me wrong—I can't really blame you. I've done some pretty awful things to you and your loved ones. But the problem is, I've done it all for you. You're just so much like her, and I can't help but want you." His hands reached the top button of her blouse and stopped, hesitating, and at the same time, he brought his lips against her ear, whispering, "You're special, Princess—no one can say otherwise. But you're also mine—and I've never been good at sharing."
The first button came undone. She sucked in a breath, prepared to beg for him to stop, but he pressed a hand on her mouth, silencing her. "Don't. It'll do you no good. You'll just have to trust me."
She tried to shake her head but didn't get anywhere, easily held in place by his hand. Her heartbeat was pounding painfully against her chest, fear and desperation squeezing the life out of her. She pulled on the bonds but it did nothing. She was trapped, with absolutely nowhere to go and no hope for an escape—vulnerable at Johnny's hands.
Another button came undone.
"Maybe I should just take you now," Johnny said slowly, as if considering it. "Maybe I shouldn't wait for you to be ready." A muffled whimper was her only response. "Maybe I'll have a little fun." He kissed her neck, softly, as his fingers worked to undo another button. "What do you think?"
As he removed his hand from her mouth, Skye gasped for air, shaking erratically. She bit her tongue, trying to hold back a dangerous response. Her entire body recoiled at his touch, skin crawling, and stomach turning. She wanted to cry, wanted to give in, but she knew she couldn't give up that easily. "I—"
He cut her off, aggressively pressing his lips against hers. When he pulled apart, he was breathing heavy. "I've made up my mind."
The final button came undone.
And without thinking, throwing caution right out the window, Skye spat in his face. He drew back, a small, taunting smile on his face. Rage boiled within her, and with as much breath as she could get, she screamed, "Stop it! Just—stop—touching—me! I'm not just another little play thing you can mess around with, Johnny! I'm not Scarlett—no matter how much I may remind you of her—and you have no right to put your filthy, disgusting hands on me! You're even sicker that I thought if you think that what you're doing is perfectly okay. Because it's not okay, Johnny—nothing is with you. You're a monster, just like your father was."
He'd sat up, taken his hands away from her, and was now staring at her, face contorted in a mask of uncertainty. Skye's heart stopped when she realized what she'd just done, utterly horrified and shocked with herself. She couldn't believe she'd snapped at him; she'd tried so hard to be careful. I have to fix this, before he loses it.
But before she could do or say anything else, he got off the bed, told her she shouldn't have said what she'd said, and left the room, leaving her with nothing but an intoxicating fear of the unknown.
RACHEL'S SWOLLEN BACK was throbbing with unbearable pain when she came to. The dark, dirty room of the basement provided little light, and she could hardly put together what had happened. The only thing she clearly remembered was the feeling of horrific pain as something had whipped across her back, breaking the skin. Everything else seemed to blur into one crowded mess.
Tentatively, she pressed her palms into the mattress and tried to push herself into an upright position. But the pain soon became too much and she fell back against the bed in exhaustion. A whimper trembled from her lips as she closed her eyes, about to give in to the exhaustion. Her body was shutting itself down again, and if she didn't do something soon, she could end up stuck in the basement, without treatment and help, for days.
Vaguely, in the haze of her clouded mind, she thought of her cell phone, remembering how Johnny had left it on one of the tabletops. She looked around the room, careful not to put too much strain on her aching back, and found it atop a desk a few feet away.
Wincing from the pain that plagued her drowning body, she managed to crawl off the bed and near the desk, desperate to find a way out. She reached up and grasped the phone in her hand, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. "Safety," she whimpered. "Finally."
She dialed 911 as quickly as she could and waited for an answer, collapsing onto the floor. The room spun when she opened her eyes, spotted with black specks. When the operator came onto the line, she murmured a weak, "Please help. I'm in the basement of an old, abandoned house on Burk Drive. He took me, and I think he might have Skye now. Please hurry."
And before she could say anything else, darkness wrapped her in its haunting clutches, stealing her away.
VICTOR'S HEART WAS beating a mile a minute. He was having a hard time accepting the news that not only had Rachel been caught up in Johnny's psychotic schemes, but that Skye had also been taken—by the same sadistic man that kept trying to ruin her. He didn't want it to be true. He wanted to believe that it was all just a nightmare.
But sitting in the hospital, waiting for information about exactly what had happened, made it all too real. Rachel was lying unconscious in a hospital room, and Skye was in life-threatening danger—a reality all too disturbing.
Sitting there doing nothing while the doctor's and officer's hustled around for answers, made him feel sick to his stomach, and he wished there was something he could do to help. He felt guilty doing nothing, even though the Sheriff and Rachel's doctor had told him there was nothing more he could do but wait—for now.
He sighed, heavily. His head throbbed, heart ached, and body trembled, exhaustion weighing down on his body. The only thing that was keeping him awake was his need for information.
"How is she doing?"
At the sound of Jules's drained voice, Victor startled, snapping his head up. When he caught his friend's haggard gaze, he shrugged, gestured to the seat next to him. "They haven't told me anything more than she'll be okay."
"Have you seen her?" Jules asked, dropping into the seat across from Victor. "You were there when they picked her up, right?"
"Yes," he croaked, voice straggled. "She looked miserable. There were bruises and cuts all over her body, and when I held her hand she didn't respond at all." A sob shook his body. "She looked as if she was merely hanging on by a thread."
Jules's face screwed up, eyes sad. "But she's going to be okay? She'll make it?"
"That's what they say."
"Then she will be," Jules said, reaching over and putting a reassuring hand on Victor's shoulder. "She's going to be just fine."
"I sure hope so." Victor tried to smile but couldn't pull it off, burdened by an overwhelming feeling of guilt. "I'm really sorry about what happened earlier. I know an apology can't help too much, but I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone."
Jules seemed to take in his words for a moment, watching the floor. "It's okay, Vic." He looked up, a small hint of a smile on his lips. "I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone, and I'm sorry I reacted so strongly. How about we just forget about it, okay? Skye needs us right now."
"Right." Victor pressed his hands against his face, fighting off exhaustion. "Have you heard anything about her?"
Jules frowned. "No. Not yet."
Victor's heart missed a beat. "I'm sure they'll have something soon," he mumbled, almost to himself. "They have to."
"Victor Knight and Jules Rane?" a deep voice called out to them, forcing them both to look in the direction of the entrance. An officer stood at the doors, holding a box in his hands. "Show yourselves if you can hear me."
"Over here," Jules said, and stood up. "What is it, Officer?"
Victor stood as well when the officer approached them, nerves on high alert. "Do you have information on Skye's whereabouts?"
The officer shook his head. "But that's where we could use your boys' help." He held up the box, opened it, and pulled out a cell phone, holding it in front of their faces. "Is this Skylar's?"
Jules's brows furrowed, his face scrunched up in a mask of what Victor could only read as sheer horror. "Yes, sir, that belongs to Skye."
"Good," the officer said, and set it back down in the box. "We are going to do everything we can to locate Skylar, but we're going to need your help. Leah Richmond is at her house right now, talking to the Sheriff, and he'd like for you both to join them. With all of your input, we should be able to locate the girl. We know she sneaked out to meet Johnny Richmond at that abandoned home, and that he took her, but there's also more." He cleared his throat, hesitant to meet the boys' gazes. "According to Rachel Harper, Johnny planned on getting out of the country by four o'clock this morning, which makes it's even more crucial that we find them both—very soon." He nodded to the parking lot. "Come with me, please."
Victor's blood turned to ice.
They had less than two hours to find Skye, before she was taken away from them forever—trapped in Johnny's tormenting clutches.
THE WAITING WAS AGONIZING. Waiting for Johnny to come back, most likely prepared to do things Skye couldn't even bring herself to think about, drove her into a state of desperation. Her heart raced uncontrollably, while her conscious struggled to keep herself calm. Stay strong. Don't let him get to you. He likes to see you afraid; don't give him the satisfaction.
But all too soon, the doorknob rattled, breaking down her resolve. She jumped at the sound of the door hitting the wall, Johnny's familiar presence all too real. "Hello, Princess," he cooed, sounding much too calm for Skye's liking. "Did you miss me?"
"What are you going to do with me, Johnny?" she asked, hesitant. Fear had crept into her voice and she tried to focus all of her energy towards staying calm. No fear. He likes it.
"I'm going to have a little fun," he drawled, and started to approach her. "You may not like it, but that doesn't really make a difference to me. I've waited for you to respect me long enough, and now—since you've proven to not give a damn about respect—I'm going to show you the consequences. I'm going to make you wish you'd never said a word."
She shook her head, sucked in a breath. "No—wait—" she stammered, swallowing a lump of fear in her throat. "I didn't mean to say what did. I-I'm sorry, Johnny. Please, I didn't mean it. I was just scared. Don't do this!"
He chuckled and pushed himself on top of her on the bed, straddling her waist. He pulled her blouse away from her body and bent over, leaning in for a quick kiss. "It's too late, Skylar. You don't get any more second chances. I've had enough of this generosity. It's about time you learn to respect me."
His hands traveled down to her jeans, ripping off the belt and yanking the jean she down in one quick movement. She whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please—Johnny, don't."
He chuckled again, and gripped onto her sides, bending down and trailing his tongue up her skin. His lips met up with her collarbone and pressed down on the sensitive skin, causing another whimper to escape her lips. He nipped at the skin.
She let out a straggled cry. "Stop! Please!"
He nuzzled his face in her neck before moving to her ear and whispering, "I've waited so long for this moment. I'm not turning back now."
All of her hope faded at the sound of those words, breaking her down little by little. "Please—don't."
He pressed a finger against her lips, saying, "Shh, don't worry, sweetheart—it'll be okay. I'll be careful not to hurt you too badly."
She gagged, utterly disgusted. She couldn't stand what he was doing; she desperately wanted him to stop—more than she ever had before. But there was no way out this time. There was no hope. Johnny had her secure in his trap, and there was no way of escape.
In one swift movement, Johnny yanked his shirt above his head, and removed the rest of his clothing, all the while leaving sick, hungry kisses on her skin.
She turned her face away, repulsed by the sight of him. She closed her eyes, trying to forget what was happening, and where she was, trying to remove herself from the moment. She wanted nothing to do with Johnny. She wanted to believe she wasn't the girl he was assaulting; she couldn't be that girl.
His hands gripped onto her hips, carrying her slightly off the bed. A scream tumbled from her lips as he hooked his fingers into her panties, pulling them down.
The reality of what was about to happen, mixed with haunting memories of the past, plagued her all at once, eating at her soul. She screamed, and screamed, over and over again, pleading with Johnny to stop, though she knew it'd do nothing: his mind was set; he was about to take the only thing she had left away from her. Tears shook her body. Her heart ached; her stomach lurched.
"I'm sorry it has to be this way, Princess. I wanted things to be different. But you chose otherwise." His hands gripped her waist, bruising the skin. "This might hurt a little."
She couldn't breathe; the reality of what was about to happen so overwhelming, so terrifying, she couldn't handle it. I wish he would just kill me, she thought, crying harder. It'd be so much easier than this.
Her entire world came crashing down in an instant when Johnny plunged deep inside of her, and whispered, "You're finally mine now. . . all mine."