Scartissue by T.L Hodel

CHAPTER 21

Logan

Where was Ma? I could hear her crying. I just couldn’t see her. I couldn’t see anything. I could feel the blood dripping down my face. Heard each drop softly land on the hard ground. I could even hear the breeze whistling through the trees outside. That’s how I knew we were at the cabin. It was past the geysers, up so high on the bluffs that even the softest breeze turned into an echoing cyclone.

“I told you not to interfere.”

I could feel the anger in my old man’s voice. He was close. Close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

Why couldn’t I see him?

“Don’t,” Ma cried from somewhere in the distance. “He’s just a boy.”

A loud smack rang through the air.

“You’re making him weak. The boy would be better off without you.”

My heart picked up. It wasn’t a threat. I knew that, and so did Ma.

“Leave him alone!”

She should’ve kept quiet. Why didn’t she keep quiet?

Her scream pushed me to force my swollen eyes open. Only one listened, but it was enough for me to see my old man hovering over Ma with a bloody knife in his hand.

“Don’t! ” I cried out, scared for the one good thing in my life.

Hand still in Ma’s hair, my old man turned around. “Look at you calling out for your mother. It’s pathetic. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t carve this weakness out of your life?”

I looked over at the woman strapped down to the bed. My nanny. She’d tried to get Ma and me out. Took us here to wait for her husband, who was someone she said could help. His body was somewhere at the bottom of the cliff. My old man had some fun with her first. He said he wanted to show me what a real man did. I was amazed she was still breathing. Bruises and blood marked her body, and still, she hung on.

Maybe she enjoyed the agony?

Pushing myself off the floor, I moved my aching body closer. Nancy was okay. I had nothing against her, but I knew what my dad wanted.

Blood and misery.

That was what he always wanted.

I didn’t think twice. Just picked up a knife and plunged it into her neck. Nothing. That’s what I felt, standing there and watching her choke for life as her blood soaked the bed. Ma cried behind us and my dad beamed with pride, but I felt nothing. Not happy, not sad, I was simply there. Listening to the wind whistle as the spark bled out of her eyes. I cocked my head at her cold dead stare.

Ma cried and called out to me, hoping to find her sweet boy.

She wouldn’t find him here.

There was no sweetness. No innocent child to save.

After all, I was my father’s son, and the boogeyman didn’t have a soul…

“Logan, stop.”

I wasn’t in the cabin. I was in my room, on my bed, with Shelby squirming under me. The way she moved, wriggling her butt while weakly slapping at the arm wrapped around her neck... I liked that. Liked seeing her helpless and afraid. My dick liked it too.

I loosened my grip on her neck enough for her to suck in gasping breaths, and rolled my eyes down to her heaving chest. Her pert little nipples pressed against the fabric of my shirt with each deep breath.

“How are you feeling?”

It’d been a while since Silas’s old man gave her the shot to flush the drugs out of her system. She should be sober now.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” she squeaked. “You just tried to choke me.”

Yes I did, and I wanted to do it again. I could feel her pulse throbbing under my fingers. Each beat timed with the need coursing through my cock.

My hand slid around her hip and up, to palm the warm flesh of her breast. I liked the way she shuddered beneath me when I pinched her nipple. What I didn’t like was the fabric between us.

Why the fuck did I put her in my shirt after Silas’s old man gave her the shot?

Right now, I didn’t give a fuck if she was high or not. I needed to be inside her tight little pussy.

Still…

“Are you,” I twirled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, watching her pouty pink lips part to release a strangled moan, “Still high?”

Her cinnamon eyes glowed in the moonlight as they locked onto mine.

“Why?”

That single word was all I needed to hear. I pushed my knee between her thighs, fisted the collar of her shirt, and tore the fabric apart. This time when her breath hitched, it wasn’t because I was choking it out of her. It was because my mouth latched on to one of those perfect rosebud nipples.

One taste and I was fucking done. Growling, I dove in, feasting on her perfect salty skin while my dick throbbed with every tiny whimper I dragged out of her.

“Logan, we can’t.” Her hands clung onto my shoulder, little fingers digging into my flesh. “Stop.”

Her mouth was saying no, but her body pulled me in closer.

“Not this time, baby.”

There’d be no stopping me this time.

She was mine now.