Chapter 32nd

The knots of his fingers brushed lightly down my face, his tranquil blue eyes fixed on my reaction, challenging a rise, waiting for one. That room was so silent, I could hear the dampness of his mouth as his lips opened a second time:

"Take off your shirt." He softly repeated as I failed to comply.

Silence reigned supreme again as I stared dumbly into his waiting eyes.

"What? No cursing? No smart come backs? What happened to your courage?" he vexed my inflamed state "It's almost as if, indeed, it was all for show… Well, if you don't have the heart to challenge me now, at least have the decency of obeying. Don't just sit there and stare at me as if hoping I'll magically change my mind!"

He spoke to aggravate me, but there and then even my thoughts were mute! Nothing but raw apprehension pulled me from the present.

"Oh well…" at last he sighed "I guess I'll have to show you what I mean… Now be a doll and let me…"

I fell out of my shocked trance as soon as Chris's hands reached out to me. I grunted and yelled, grabbing his wrists. "NO!"

But Chris shushed me effectively as he grabbed my shirt and pulled me to him abruptly, scaring me livid… hopefully, all he did was sit me straight in front of him, my eyes now frozen on his face, his piercing into mine with that cold sharpness that allowed no squeal back. Having verified my stiffness, he resumed:

"…as I was saying… be a doll, and let me get this for you. Dolls. Don't. Fuss." He emphasized, lifting an eyebrow to get his point across, lingering there to check my obedience, then finally looking down, focusing:

Slowly, his fingers wrapped around the first button of my shirt. I knew I couldn't fight. I knew there was no use. I just sat there… trembling.

The air was quiet again, nothing filled it but the silent rustling of a button being gently undone, Chris's hands sliding down to the next one; a mental game breaking down my sanity.

"You won't get away with this." I mumbled, cowardly tensing my jaw.

Third button. My chest rising faster… feeling his hand when I filled my lungs, shivering at its touch, but not quite daring to move.

"You'll… you'll pay." My voice was chocked, moist. "I swear…"

It felt like it was all I could do at that point: hold on to a promise of retribution for hope, one I wouldn't be around to enjoy.

"Will I?" Chris smiled, focused, then speaking slowly "If you're talking about divine providence, well… What is that saying? 'Cast a stone he who is without sin'. We all have our share."

"No. I mean I have a family…. People who care about me. They'll hunt you until the day you die!"

"Yes, I'm sure they will." He silenced, belittling my fervor.

Then, he added, the amusement of it reaching him:

"Those poor people! They'd better not dream about what really happened! Their precious little girl… giving herself away so easily as she did, helplessly infatuated with the perpetrator of those terrible, terrible deeds; wasting all the love and effort her parents put into raising her by choosing to indulge him." He clicked his tongue feigning disapproval as he distractedly moved his head from side to side, his eyes then pausing to smile into mine "Let's hope they can never piece that much together, so they can fill their days with dreaming of revenge for the senseless violence that arbitrarily crossed paths with you… Otherwise… Why, I think the shame of it could destroy them more than grieving ever will!"

I watched him in silence, experiencing the pain of a cold gush swirling inside my chest, inspired by the picture he so craftily painted.

"But… let's not get ahead of ourselves, yes?" He pursed his lips "Enough chattering about things to come…"

Chris's eyes narrowed, his smile slowly coming undone and his eyes fixing into mine as he yanked down the lower seams of my shirt, aligning them before finally undoing the last button. I breathed in a large gulp of air, he focused on my reaction as he slowly ran his fingers between both sides of the shirt, as superficially as he could, threatening to brush my sensitive, inflamed skin but being careful not to do so. As I stiffened and hyperventilated, he pulled the sides apart and finally lowered his eyes, watching me with a strangled sigh.

My small chest heaved under a black bra, the one item at once keeping me from total humiliation and instilling me with further horror, as I knew what was to come. Chris's hand hovered briefly as he seemed to debate with himself, before his eyes returned to mine, a more serious mood taking over him:

"Remove them." He pronounced calmly, yet firmly; retrieving his hand to once more test my obedience. "Remove your bra."

I didn't move. My eyes watched his with torment. No smiles… no more teasing and testing… no more running. Just Chris sitting before me, holding me, demanding.

"Take them off." He lifted an eyebrow, assuming a firmer tone.

I clenched my jaw and stared back, scared of the consequences of either option as I sustained the illusion of having one: do as he said, or do nothing. A heated fluster had climbed to the surface of my skin, uncomfortable enough that I thought it could burn me; and though I feared the graveness in him, a splinter of excitement was there in his eyes: I was smart enough to detect it, but not to keep myself from providing it. He didn't need to command me. He didn't expect obedience… it was only a game. A game of torturing me, and of enjoying my resistance. I couldn't help but feed him further:

"Fuck you!!" I cried cowardly.

Chris arched forward, leveling his face with mine – calm, yet firm eyes pinning me down and challenging my defiance a second time:

"Take off your clothes Abby…" he pronounced steadily "…Or I will kill you."

My breathing was speedy… uncontrollable… it made me dizzy! It had been explicit enough until then, and yet… his speaking that word – confirming it! – brought reality home yet another time: it was in his books, now outspokenly so: that he would kill me.

But with or without the added threat, with or without his eyes fixed into mine, I was aware of how it would end. My breathing was so frantic my chest hurt, my bones shook to the core, but I did not delude myself for a single moment: he had but voiced what I already knew would happen to me, merely confirmed the fate I had precociously collected from the cop earlier in that same awful day: there was nothing new about it, and I would be a fool to let it affect me more than everything else already had. I would not let myself be made into thinking cooperation would make my situation any better – not even in my most desperate moments did I believe there was any chance I'd be spared, not willingly…

At last, my breathing eased, my heart found a rhythm – although still a galloping one – and ironically, the voiced threat filled me with courage. I had hit rock bottom, and he could bring me no lower than that:

"No!"