Whipping Girl by L. Jacobs
Chapter 26 – Ally
I wake up in pain. Everywhere. My head feels like it’s going to explode and every muscle in my body aches like nothing I have ever felt. I test my extremities but as I suspected I’m still completely strapped down, my arms and legs still tied tightly. I look around me and nothing has changed but at least my head feels a little clearer aside from the excruciating ache. I’m in an airplane hangar. How long have I been here? My stomach cramps with hunger and my throat feels like I’ve been swallowing sharp rocks, I have yet to have any kind of sustenance so maybe this is how they plan to kill me. I’d rather die than be subjected to the things that have been hinted so maybe that would be a kindness. Where are you, Alexander? It feels as if I lie there forever before a door opens off to the side of the large room and in walks Peter.
“Oh good, you’re awake! I didn’t know if you would make it through the night.” There’s no concern in his voice whatsoever, and I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Your body didn’t take too well to the drugs that we gave you, you had a pretty nasty seizure.” He says with zero worry. He walks right up to me, running his hand through my hair but I jerk my head to the side, trying to escape his repulsive touch as much as possible in my bound state.
“Keep your hands off me.” I grit through my teeth but it comes out as barely more than a whisper, my throat so dry that it burns.
“You won’t be saying that for long.” His hand trails down my hair to my neck then lower to my breast where he cups me. I release a sob when he starts kneading me there, his appalling touch making my skin crawl in a way that I’ve never experienced. He laughs at my torment and his eyes darken with lust when he witnesses a tear escape my eye. “I’m going to kill him, Allyanna. And then I’m going to break you apart and make you mine, you’re going to replace what he stole from me.” Jesus, he’s talking about Candace. His victim. He smiles cruelly when I spit in his face not even bothering to wipe it off before lifting his hand to backhand me, my head whips to the side from the blow but I barely feel anything with the adrenaline rushing through my body. Taking the hit was worth it.
“She was just a child.” I croak. Thinking about her makes me feel even more sick and I know that if I had anything in my stomach at this point then I would be throwing it up right now.
“Candace is just a small part of this, I probably would have been mildly inconvenienced if it had been just about her, you have no idea how long it took me to get that bitch to stop screaming when I made her take my cock.” He laughs when I cringe then falls sober as he continues. “But she was carrying my baby when they killed her and that I just cannot let go.” He finishes, nostrils flaring in anger. I don’t know what to say to that, shock and drugs keeping me quiet. Poor Candace, I wish she would have just talked to someone, she didn’t have to suffer alone.
“Do you need to use the restroom?” I hadn’t until he mentioned it but bladder starts to throb relentlessly with his question so I nod my head, not willing to voice my need for anything in case he decides that I’ll owe him for it. He doesn’t take his eyes off of my breasts as he unties first my feet then my hands. I sit up on what I now know is a heavy metal table as he holds out his hand in a gentlemanly manner, offering to help me down but I ignore him as I slide off, my knees nearly buckling under my weight but I catch myself before I fall completely. When I look up he’s got a condescending smirk on his face but he keeps quiet as he leads me into a bathroom off to the right of the hanger, I’m gearing up to give a good fight if he thinks he’s going to come in with me but he only holds the door open as I enter and closes it most of the way after I’m through. I quickly eye the room for something that I can use to fight with but I’m met with disappointment when I see that the room is pretty much cleared of everything aside from the toilet and a small sink to wash my hands. Not even a damn mirror that I could break off! What do I do? What would Alexander do? I sit down and pee while I try to come up with a solid plan but I’ve barely pulled my leggings up under my dress when Peter enters the bathroom without even a knock of warning. I go to walk past him but he grabs my arm, shoving me against the wall so hard that I lose my breath. He presses up against me, too close for me to lift my leg or get a good angle to punch him. I’m nearly frozen in fear but I still manage to square my shoulders and narrow my eyes on him, praying that I get the chance to watch his death. “Brave little thing, aren’t you?” He bends down and places his nose to my hair, he inhales deeply while I have to once again tamp down my nausea at his closeness.
“That has to be a turn off for you though, right? Don’t you normally go after children who can’t fight you off? Why is that exactly, Peter? Was there too many women who made fun of your little dick?” My taunt has the desired effect, he pulls away from me just far enough so I can bring up my knee, I connect with my intended target and while he cries out and bends at the waist I am flying out the door and sprinting toward the clearly marked exit. I’m nearly there when I’m pulled from behind and thrown to the cement floor. My head hits the hard surface with a thud that causes stars to dance across my vision and when he comes over me he’s breathing heavily but instead of the rage that I expect to see, his eyes show a heavy lust that scares me even more. I cry out when he bends to lick me from jaw to temple, his slimy tongue making me wish he had hit me instead. His face shows dirty excitement as he pulls out another one of his goddamned syringes and I whimper as he uncaps the sharp point, not wanting to be drugged again but I’ll never beg this pervert for anything. “Don’t worry, it’s a lower dosage than before, I definitely want you alive and conscious for what I have in store.” He stabs my neck with the needle then holds me down as I fight and thrash to get free. He wants to rape me and all I know is I can’t let that happen. He laughs mockingly while he easily keeps me immobile, his eyes landing hungrily on my heaving chest as he eagerly waits for the narcotic to take effect. “We’re the same, you know, your boyfriend and I. We both love feisty little whores who love to take cock.” He grinds his erection into my thigh with his last word, causing a sob to leave my throat at my depleting energy.
My body starts going lax even as my mind still tries to fight him, I can tell the dosage is dramatically lower than before but it’s still too much for my previously drug free system.
A phone ringing in the background breaks his stare from my body and I’m grateful for the small reprieve. He looks back toward the door that he came in from, confusion and annoyance clear on his face as he waits for it to stop or for someone to answer, I don’t know which. It rings and rings with no answer then stops for a moment before it starts all over again. This happens two more times before three of his men walk into the big room, they look at us, not in surprise or disgust at what he’s doing to me, but like they’re waiting for instructions. He barks at them. “Stop staring and answer the fucking phone.” One of the men looks around anxiously then goes to do as he’s told, I watch through the open doorway as the lackey picks up the receiver without a word, his face paling noticeably as he listens then he sets it back in its cradle as he comes back.
“Uh- he said that he knows where we are… and that he’s coming for us.” A half smile tilts my lips as I take in the man's nervous words. I knew he would find me-them.
“No.” Peter says in disbelief, sitting up so that he’s straddling my hips. “No! There’s no way that he knows where we’re at!” He yells, panic written all over his face. I laugh, drawing wide-eyed attention from everyone in the room.
“Maybe it was a lucky guess,” I say sarcastically, still laughing. “Maybe he dialed every number and said the same thing to everyone that answered just to screw with you.” I guess the drugs have really kicked in because I am finding all of this way too funny for a woman who’s being held down by a psychopathic pervert. Peter reaches into his boot and pulls out a long, sharp knife, the shiny blade catches overhead lighting before it’s pressed against the thin skin of my throat. My laughter dies with the threat, fearing any movement might cause him to nick an artery but as several cell phones start ringing around the room my smile picks up once again.
“What the hell?” Greg asks as he comes into the room with the rest of us, he looks around in confusion as he grabs his cell phone and looks down at the screen.
“Nobody answer!” He keeps the knife at my throat but reaches behind him and pulls out his gun, pointing it between each of his crew members. “How did he find us? One of you?” The phones continue ringing back to back, their echo heightening the tense atmosphere. Peter points his gun upward and fires three shots at the ceiling in quick succession as everyone covers their ears at the deafening gunshots but all I can do is close my eyes at the painful sound. Silencers should be considered common courtesy.
“We don’t know!” Greg yells. Peter looks around, his breathing is fast and I can actually see his heartbeat in a vein that’s popped out on his red, sweaty forehead.
“Okay. Okay.” He says to himself before looking toward Greg. “Answer your phone, put it on speaker.” He takes a few deep breaths as he tries to regain his sense of calm. Greg does as he asks, holding the phone close enough so Peter can speak into it. “Alexander...” he strings out the name as he tries to feign coolness. “What can I do for you?”
"You can die." Comes through, the familiar rasp bringing tears to my eyes. The click on the other end is the last thing I hear before all hell breaks loose.
The sound of breaking glass starts a full on cataclysm, everything happens too quickly for my drugged up mind to fully register. I witness Greg’s forehead growing a bloody dot as he falls backward onto the floor, I stare at the leaking red fluid before my eyes move to another man as he runs away from the chaos but he falls forward as several of the red dots explode across his back... the noise is so loud it’s difficult to concentrate on anything else and it’s so strange to me that I even want to. Is that the drugs? Do I want to see these men suffer because my mind has been altered? Or is it because I know these men don’t deserve to live? I actually rejoice as I watch their lives seep out of them, one by one they all fall down.
“GET DOWN!” Peter yells at the remaining men. He stands in a crouch and grabs my arm, harshly pulling me up in front of him, using me as his personal shield while he fires several shots toward the window.
The noise stops. Only the sound of heavy breathing remains.
“Peter!” Oh my god! My breath catches in my throat at the familiar voice. “Peter, you need to give this shit up, you can’t win this!” It’s Ivan… he survived!
“Fuck off, Ivan! You're supposed to be fucking dead!” He’s still hiding himself, his false bravado laughable as he looks around frantically for a way out of this. There is no way out, I want to laugh in his face.
“I’m coming in!”
“If you come in here I will slit her fucking throat!” The threat in his voice is punctuated when the knife resumes its previous position at my neck. I’m almost thankful for the drugs right now, they are making this situation feel dreamlike, my absolute terror hidden behind a narcotic cloud.
“I’m coming in either way, it would be in your best interest to keep the girl alive. Don’t do anything stupid.” Peter’s breath comes faster and the blade presses into my neck a little harder, every one of my heartbeats feels like it could be the last but I don’t try to pull away, I do my part by keeping absolutely still. Not an easy task when my legs feel like they could give out at any moment.
“Just you!” Peter orders.
“Just me... I only want to talk.” Ivan yells out, calm and composed, so much like his son. How do they do that? How can they sound so authoritative yet relaxed? Peter ducks further behind me as the large door slides open in front of us, I watch the crack in the doorway as it reveals a weakened and worn looking Ivan. I want to cry out in relief but I keep silent as I wait for him to speak. He looks at me as he sort of limps forward, lifting his arms as one of Peter’s men swiftly walks up to him and starts patting him down. “How are you doing, Whipping Girl?” He asks me, a half smile on his pale face.
“Drugs.” I slur, unable to answer further. He looks me over quickly, noting the knife poised at my throat before addressing Peter. “Is that really necessary?” He nods toward the knife.
“If I die then I’m taking her with me, I won’t let all of this be in vain.” Peter sneers.
“I think we both know by now that that you are not getting out of this alive. It’s not ‘if’ it’s ‘when and how’.” Ivan says with a note of sympathy for his old friend. “He’s not going to let this go, Peter. Your choice at this point is if you want it to go quickly… or if you want him to drag it out until you’re begging for the sweet release that only death can bring you.” Peter laughs with disdain, his open hatred toward Ivan evident.
“The only begging will be his whore asking for ‘sweet release’ while I force her to ride my cock!” Another gunshot rings out and the knife is suddenly dropped from my skin when Ivan uses Peter’s distraction by diving at us, I’m thrown to the ground as the two older men grapple each other, Ivan getting the advantage when he sends a swift punch into Peter’s gut then taking him out with a hard punch to the back of his head. Peter falls to the floor, his gun skidding on the cold concrete a few feet in front of me. I crawl toward it, picking up the heavy metal object with a surety that shouldn’t feel so good. I examine the gun until the sounds of yelling draws my attention, the rest of the lackeys running away as the crack in the doorway becomes larger and several big figures come through.
I spot Alexander immediately, his beloved Desert Eagle out in front of him as his finger repeatedly pulls the trigger on his intended targets. I recognize the figure next to him as Zeke, he has a large black gun but doesn’t fire it, allowing Alexander to take them out while he’s just there to have his friend’s back. I don’t watch the men that are undoubtedly falling around me, instead focusing all of my attention on the man I’ve given my life to. He comes closer but never looks at me directly, his eyes zooming in on the figure being held down by his father.
“Get up.” His voice rumbles as he throws his weapon to the floor. I want to ask what the hell he’s doing but my mouth seems to be frozen in shock. I knew he would come for me, I knew that he would kill Peter, I’ve thought that all along… I just didn’t know if it would be too late for me or not. I feel tears start streaming down my face and I don’t even try to stop them in my relief. “I said get up!” He yells darkly, his sinister voice something to be feared. Alexander’s face is nothing short of terrifying, the semi smooth lines he usually wears turning into the monster that he thinks himself to be, I’ve never seen it until now and I’m once again thankful for the drugs that have kept me calm all this time.
Peter pushes away from Ivan, slowly standing and lifting his chin in a dare that Alexander doesn’t hesitate to take when he throws a punch to his jaw that sends the pervert’s head sideways, he starts to fall but catches himself as Alexander slowly circles around him, pushing him further and further away from me as the coward tries to back away.
“What’s the matter, Alex? Don’t like to share?” Peter laughs even though it sounds more nervous than humorous. Alexander lifts a brow, seemingly unaffected by the taunt but then he kicks out, sending Peter into one of the dead members of his team. Peter rushes to stand, slipping in the blood of his fallen as he tries to scramble away. He looks around desperately but all of his men are dead, nobody alive to help him out of his self-made mess.
“I think you’re all alone Peter. There’s nobody to save you from me this time.” Alexander chuckles.
If you’ve never seen Animal Planet then you could never understand what I am saying when I tell you that this is like watching a lion stalking its prey, every time Peter moves, Alexander counters. Peter tries to throw out a few punches but Alexander dodges each jab, smiling cockily while he plays with his food. They dance around each other, Alexander knocking Peter’s head back with a series of strikes to the face. Their movements become more and more difficult for me to process, becoming faster and harder as they fight on. Peter grunts when he takes a knee to the gut. Alexander chuckles when he avoids a kick to the face. Blood pours out of Peter’s nose and ears. Alexander’s eyes darken with each passing second. Peter’s face swells. Alexander’s bloodlust continues.
Peter had no chance of surviving and with each moment that passes you can see it more and more clearly in his eyes, there is still fear there but now there’s acceptance as well. He rolls off of the ground, slowly pulling himself up by using the heavy metal table that I was tied to, he stumbles slightly but manages to shakily stand. Alexander strides slowly toward Ivan, then grabs the knife that his father holds out for him before leisurely walking back toward his foe. Peter looks toward the knife, his nose flaring with each panicked breath, his eyes fall to the ground in resignation but then a disgusted shiver runs down my spine as his eyes shift to mine, a slow, precarious smile lifting the perverts lips as he licks the blood from them slowly then blows me a provoking kiss that makes me wish for a scalding hot shower.
Alexander witnesses everything, his darkness taking over as he grabs the short hair on the back of Peter’s head, his jaw clenched as he pulls back then slams Peter’s face into the tables edge over and over until that face is no longer recognizable to anyone. A low groan rings out from the mangled remains when my future husband places the nearly unconscious man’s lips so that the table’s corner is inside of Peter’s mouth. Stepping back, Alexander finally looks toward me, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them before as he nods in my direction as if to say ‘this one’s for you’. He brings his foot back then stomps it into the back of Peter’s head with so much force that most of the top part of Peter’s skull slides onto the smooth surface. I stare, stunned and unable to look away from the gruesome scene in front of me, the shiny red blood pooling out from the swollen mess of bone and meat. It makes my stomach swirl with sickness, even as my heart rate picks up in a weird form of black excitement.
I know that Peter purposely provoked Alexander to gain a quick death, he had known that Alexander would have drawn it out for as long as possible so he pushed the killer’s buttons and Alexander didn’t hesitate to take the bait. As if all of that didn’t satisfy him nearly enough, Alexander raises the large knife still in his hand and stabs it down into the dead man’s skull, the sharp blade pierces through with a finality that rings out through the room as it punctures the metal of the table. My mind spins with emotion but my lips want to turn up at the corners. I feel sick. I feel enlivened. I feel repulsed. I feel vindicated. This is wrong. Why is my heart beating in delight?
I clench my eyes closed to shut out the bloody episode but I end up heaving anyway, nothing comes up, making it feel even worse on my parched throat. I’m dizzy and everything that I just witnessed feels like someone else's memories. I feel a hand on the side of my face but I automatically yelp and flinch away from the touch.
“Shhh… Angel, it’s me.” Tears start tracking down my face again, his voice is gentle unlike what I’ve just witnessed from him. I’m so damn confused by my enthusiasm for the gruesome scene that just played out in front of me. I still keep my eyes closed, the narcotics making it feels as though this could still just be a dream. Maybe all of this has just been a hallucination and if it’s not I hope that it at least dulls the memory of what just happened or at least my feelings about all of it. The gun that I still have clutched in my hand is carefully removed and I’m lifted from the floor into familiar, strong arms. “I needed you to see it... I needed you to know that I made him pay, baby.”