DAY TWENTY IS UPON US and our time is running out.
Earl didnโt feed us or give us water the previous dayโall he did was allow us to use the bathroom, brush our teeth, and then I was subjected to a beating with his leather belt, amplifying my already broken body.
It was a punishment for my โmisbehaviorโ.
I sucked up giant handfuls of water as I brushed my teeth over the sink, so I wonโt be dying from dehydration just yet, but I feel my body getting weaker every minute.
I keep thinking about how the couple before us only made it twenty-two days, and I wonder if thatโs the deadly number. Then I force myself to push those unproductive thoughts away because itโs not day twenty-two. Itโs day twenty.
Weโre okay.
Dean and I are in the middle of discussing a possible escape plan during our bathroom break later, when those boots make their way down the stairs and stomp over to us, each step sending a wave of nausea right through me.
โIs my kitten ready for her doggieโs bone?โ Earl snarks, then bursts out into hoarse laughter, entirely amused with his sick, stupid pun. โHope my pets enjoy it todayโmight be the last time. My own dogs are hungry for some fresh meat.โ
Oh, God.
I hold back my terrified cry.
Itโs not over. Weโre okay. Itโs not over.
Dean approaches me after his restraints are removed, looking weary and haggard and so unlike the man I once knew. I used to loathe that mischievous gleam in his eyes, the one that loved to instigate me and push my buttonsโ now, I would do anything to get it back.
Something tells me that even if we manage to make it out of here alive, Iโll never see those eyes again.
Earl barks his orders from the other side of the basement, as if we donโt
know what to do by now. He waves his shiny gun around, but I donโt hear any of the words coming out of his mouth. Everything sounds muffled and far away, like Iโm underwater.
Iโm only focused on Dean. Nothing else exists.
Dean closes in, reaching for my wrist and beginning his slow, circular
motions over my skin. He then presses his opposite hand to my chest and lets his forehead fall against my own. I inhale a sharp gasp, not expecting the gesture. There is something intimate about itโsomething different. I force my eyes shut because I find myself unable to look at him while weโre in this strangely personal position.
Odd, considering heโs been inside me. It doesnโt get more personal than that.
He pushes his hand against the crown of my breast, but not in a sexual way. He sighs so deep it resonates right through me. โItโs still beating,โ he whispers, his words a soft kiss against my lips. โAs long as itโs beating,
youโre okay.โ
With his hand to my heart and his thumb trailing along my pulse point, he leans in. I meet him halfway, eager to feel his warmth, desperate for that human contactโthat connection. His tongue invades me, and our kiss feels hungrier than usual. Itโs more than routine. Itโs more than survival. Maybe heโs craving that connection just as much as I am.
Dean trails his hand down my breast, slowly, splaying his fingers along my abdomen. His touch is gentle and soft against my sore ribs, merely a tickle. A small whimper escapes my throat, and I instinctively raise my leg to wrap it around his waist, our tongues in a frenzy and our lips devouring one another. Deanโs hand leaves me to unbutton his jeans and yank them down his hips, and then I feel him at my core, seeking more of my heat. Weโre both warm and breathing and alive, and itโs intoxicating. Life is intoxicating when youโre on the brink of death, day after day.
I inhale a tapered breath when he pushes inside me, my hands gripping the pole. My eyes are still closed as I try to zone out to my usual, happy placeโ the one thatโs far, far away from here.
But I keep being pulled back to Dean.
Iโm too aware of him today, too drunk on the feel of another human body filling me up and breathing life into me. His cock thrusts deep as his forehead touches mine again, but I keep my eyes shut, too scared to look at him. Too scared to see if his blue, blue eyes are reflecting everything Iโm feeling right now.
His movements are slower than usual. Slow, but steady. Intense.
Usually heโs quick and hurried, eager to get this over with. But not today. Today, itโs differentโalmost like heโs savoring every inch of me. And Iโm not sure why, Iโll never know why, but my body starts to respond. I block everything out, except for Dean, and I feel a pool of heat surge between my thighsโฆ an ancient buzz of pleasure.
Pleasure.
What a thing to feel when youโre chained in a basement with a madman waving a gun at you in one hand and beating off in the other, while your soon- to-be brother-in-law fucks you against a pole.
But I go with it.
I go with it because itโs better than feeling like Iโm dying inside.
I think Dean notices, too. He palms my ass with one hand beneath my t- shirt, my unwashed hair falling over our faces like a curtain. Iโm dirty and gross, and I probably smell like a sewer, but that doesnโt stop Dean from burying his face into my neck and breathing me in, inhaling my scent like itโs sweet, beautiful oxygen. He picks up speed, and I realize my other leg has wrapped around him, holding myself up and pulling him close as his cock
drives in and out of me.
He lifts his head.
I can feel him looking at me. Watching me. Begging me to open my eyes. I do.
My eyelids flutter open and the air catches in my throat when our gazes meet. Heโs staring at me like Iโm the only goddamn thing in the world, and I suppose, right now, I am.
A soft moan passes through his lips and I want to know what it tastes like, so I lean forward to capture his mouth in another searing kiss. He kisses me back with everything he has left, every last ounce of life and hope, his tongue tangling desperately with my own.
Then his thumb halts its calming designs along my wrist. My security blanket is gone. My way out has turned to dust. And I hardly notice.
I donโt even care because Iโm so wrapped up in all of the strange, powerful feelings coursing through me, swallowing me whole.
Dean trails his hand up my arm and cradles my neck, pulling back from my mouth to find my eyes again. He doesnโt want to give me an escape this time. He wants me to be here, in this moment, with him. My breathing is heavy as tiny sounds crawl up my throat with each hard thrust of his cock. I want to reach for him. I want to touch him like heโs touching me. I want to feel his skin beneath my fingertips, assuring me heโs real.
Iโm not alone. Iโm not alone.
Deanโs hand disappears from my neck and falls between us, and I almost choke on a gasp when I realize what heโs doing. The thumb that has been tracing my wrist, giving me comfort, is now pressed up against my clit, massaging me as our bodies crash together. His eyes donโt leave mine. My eyes donโt leave his. Weโre locked together, something silent and unspoken but all-consuming passing between us.
It doesnโt take long before the telltale sparks begin to scatter and climb, an orgasm building. My breath hitches with tiny gasps and whimpers, and my God, the look on Deanโs face when he realizes whatโs happeningโwhen he
realizes Iโm going to comeโฆ Shock. Disbelief.
The space between his eyes creases, his brows furrowing, his pupils dilating. His gaze is wide and full of something I canโt even begin to unravel.
And then I feel myself peaking, bursting, so he kisses me, devouring my moan with his mouth and plunging into me three more times before his own orgasm takes over. He lets out a primal groan, shuddering and digging his
fingers into the underside of my thigh as he comes.
And then itโs over.
We both come down, our lips and teeth pressed together, our breathing low and heavy. Deanโs grip on me loosens, and my legs fall from his hips. Iโm absolutely terrified to look at him, partially disgusted by what just transpired, but mostly confused. I duck my head the moment our mouths separate, forcing back the hot tears of shame.
What the hell was that?
A slow clap rings out beside us, echoing right through me, and I realize I had forgotten he was even there.
โWell done. My little playthings put on quite the show,โ Earl sneers, a gurgling laugh erupting from him.
Dean quickly pulls out of me, and I can see that his chin is to his chest as he steps backwards. He canโt look at me either. Heโs shuffling with his pants when Earl lurches forward and pushes him to the opposite corner with the barrel of the gun.
โIntermission time,โ Earl says as Dean pulls up his zipper. โFuck youโฆ you vile, filthy, inhumane piece of shit.โ
A beat.
Oh, no, Dean. What are you doing?
Dean must have a death wish because he continues. โYouโre a sick, twisted piece of garbage. Youโll never get away with this because youโll keep doing it.
Youโll keep kidnapping women because thereโs not a single fucking reality
where you could even pay a woman to touch your tiny, impotent dick. Youโre going to get caught, and then youโre going to rot in a prison cell where Carl
shoves his enormous cock up your ass every night until you drop dead, you fat, fucking fuck.โ
Earl is silent for a moment, his pistol positioned right at Deanโs chest. My heart all but stops as I wait, my insides twisting with dread.
Heโs going to kill him.
Heโs absolutely going to kill him.
I canโt let that happen.
Before the trigger is pulled, before a shot rings out and Dean drops in front of my eyes, I let out a mighty, shrill scream and shake my chains at the same time. Itโs enough to pierce the silence and force Earlโs attention in my direction for the briefest moment.
Itโs enough to give Dean a tiny, pivotal window to make his move.
Itโs our one and only chance of getting out of here alive, and Dean takes it. He follows through on his promise.
With a guttural growl, Dean lunges at Earl and knocks him right off his feet. They both tumble backwards onto the hard ground, Dean on top, Earl
grabbing for his pistol that slipped from his meaty paw. Dean gets to it first and shoves it away with a quick swipe of his hand, and I watch it slide across the floor and out of Earlโs reach.
โYou motherfucker,โ Dean spits out, slinking one palm around Earlโs neck as he rises to his knees and straddles our captor, beating him with his opposite fist. Dean pummels him. Heโs violent and angry and completely zoned out.
โYou sick piece of shit. This is for laying your disgusting fucking hands on her.โ
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.
The sound of fist against face is sickening as blood spatters up at Dean and all around us. Iโm holding my breath, squeezing the pole with all my might, watching the horrific scene in front of me.
โYou bastard. You fucking bastard.โ Dean is focused. Determined. Heโs using both fists now to wreak havoc on Earlโs face until the monster becomes unrecognizable. โHow dare you fucking touch her. Iโll fucking kill you.โ
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.
Blood, flesh, bone. Itโs everywhere. Earlโs limbs quiver in shock as he loses the fight and goes limp on the cement.
โYouโre dead. Youโre fucking dead,โ Dean seethes, spitting through his teeth, his punches hard and brutal. Heโs an animalโout of control. โIโll kill you.โ
But he already did. Itโs done. Itโs over.
I hear skull cracking, and I clench my eyes shut, shouting, โDean, stop!โ โFuck you, motherfucker.โ
Thwap. Crack. Thwap.
โHeโs dead, Dean!โ I cry. โHeโs dead. Heโs dead. Please stop.โ
My voice finally infiltrates the vengeance-fueled haze that has consumed him, and Dean stills his fist mid-air, his chest surging with weighty breaths,
his body shaking with rage. His eyes widen as he takes in the gory scene in front of himโa horrifying, ugly mess he created with his own, bare hands. A life taken.
End scene.
Dean propels himself backwards when the image sinks in, scooting himself away from the blood-spattered body and pulling himself to faltering feet. โFuckโฆ oh, Jesusโฆโ He holds his hands out in front of him, staring at the bloodbath, his breathing intensifying and becoming unhinged.
I want to run to him, console him in some way, but Iโm still chained to this goddamn pole. I tug at my manacles. โDean, please get me out of these. I want to go home.โ
He snaps his head up, and the look of incredulous horror on his face will be ingrained in my mind forever. Dean looks back down at his hands, then starts scrubbing them against the front of his jeans. โYeah, okay. Fuckโฆ okayโฆโ Heโs out of sorts, pacing around in a circle, tugging at his hair.
โDean.โ His name breaks on my tongue, and I bob my knees up and down, desperate for freedom. โPlease.โ
He swallows, blinking at me and nodding his head. โIโm sorryโฆ yeah, okayโฆโ Dean jumps into action, putting the grisly truths aside until we are out of here.
He pauses to glance at Earlโs body, and I think heโs going to search him for the key to the handcuffs.
Instead, he runs back to his pole and slides down to his knees, his hands roving over the cement to find the pin of the belt. He locates it, then stumbles over to me with wild eyes and blood-stained skin. โThis might take a few
minutes.โ
I nod, closing my eyes so I donโt have to look at the mangled body lying in front of me. I can feel Deanโs breaths beating against my hair as his hands
shake and quiver while they try to unchain me.
It takes a long time. Tenโmaybe fifteen minutes. But when the cuffs finally slip loose and clatter against the cement floor, I pull my arms free with a cry of relief. I hear the pin follow with a tiny clank, and Deanโs forehead
falls against the pole beside me while he takes a minute to regroup. I turn to him, watching his eyes close as he tries to control his breathing. His sticky hands cling to the pipeโthe same piece of metal that has held me captive in this hellhole for almost three weeks.
I reach out my own unsteady hand, placing it against his shoulder, stepping forward until we are almost fully touching. Deanโs jaw clenches and
unclenches as he twists his head to the side, still leaning against the pole, finding my face. I rub my hand along his back, much like he had done at the veterinary hospital that dreary afternoon with Blizzard. Our eyes hold as I try to quiet the demons so clearly wreaking havoc on his mind.
And then, in one fell swoop, Dean tugs me towards him as he stands up straight, crushing me to his chest, his arms wrapping around me and holding tight.
My own arms slink around his middle, my face buried against his racing heart. I can smell blood and fear and terror and victory. I feel him trembling in my embrace, his body coming down from the massive adrenaline spike. He
hugs me tighter and tighter, and I donโt even care that my ribs are screaming in resistanceโhe could never hug me tight enough.
Our emotions begin to settle and we slowly pull apart, our eyes lingering for one potent beat before he takes my hand and pulls me to the staircase.
I donโt spare Earl, or whateverโs left of him, a final glance as we race past his body. Heโs not worth another second of my life.
We won.
Dean is scrubbing his hands and arms in the kitchen sink with a bristled brush, erasing all remnants of Earl off his skin. Heโs relentless and harsh, washing and cleansing until his flesh is pink and raw. I watch the water run red as Deanโs eyes stay laser focused on his task. Even when all of the blood has disappeared down the drain, he keeps scrubbing.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
โDean,โ I say gently, coming up behind him in an attempt to distract him. He doesnโt hear me.
Swish. Swish. Swish. โItโs okay, Dean.โ
He keeps scrubbing. Dean is trying to cleanse more than just his skin.
Tiny specks of blood begin to form along the surface of his arms, and I finally reach my hand out and place it against his shoulder. โDean, stop.
Youโre hurting yourself.โ
He pauses his movements, turning around and glancing between me and the blood-tinged bristles. He swallows. โSorry, I justโฆโ Dean trails off, but he doesnโt need to finish the sentence.
We both know exactly what heโs doing.
I jump in place when police sirens sound in the distance, and I waste no time running to the back door off the kitchen.
โCora, wait. Theyโll come inside to get us,โ Dean says, trying to keep me from darting out into the subzero weather in nothing but a blood-stained t- shirt.
But I canโt listen to logic or reason right now. Safety is roughly four- hundred yards away, and Iโm desperate, reckless, aching, to have a taste of humanity. I canโt wait.
Iโm done waiting.
The door slams against the wall as I whip it open, and the icy air blasts my face. I gasp at the intensity of it, but it doesnโt stop my feet from launching
me forward, pulling me closer to freedom. Thereโs a dirt road behind the house, and I try not to think about the fact that if Iโd gone out this door two
days earlier, I probably would have made a successful escape. Weโd have two extra days with our families in our warm beds, eating real food.
I could have spared Dean from a grisly crime that he will likely carry with him for the rest of his life.
But I try not to think about that. Thereโs no room for what ifs right now.
As I stumble forward, I clutch my throbbing ribs as they scream at me to go slow. My head is pounding, my body is crumbling, my limbs are numbing from the cold, and I realize Iโve barely made it a few feet. I see the flashing
lights ahead, though, and itโs too temptingโtoo seductive. I need to keep moving.
I press on, holding back my cries of pain as I push forward across the crunchy leaves and frost-tipped grass. Itโs then that I feel him behind me, his warmth touching me before his hands ever do.
โIโve got you.โ Dean throws a jacket over my shoulders and picks me up off the ground, one arm around my back and the other tucked under my knees.
We pause for a moment, our eyes catching, and I wrap my own arms around his neck, allowing him to carry me the rest of the way.
I lay my head against his shoulder, and I swear I could fall asleep. Even though Iโm half-naked with broken bones, caked in blood and dirt and semen, being trekked through an open field in the arms of my sisterโs fiancรฉโIโm at peace. I feel safe. Iโm exhausted.
My soul is exhausted.
I listen to Deanโs arduous breaths as he totes me through the property in his strong arms. I concentrate on his heartbeats, quick and steady. I canโt help but wonder what the future holds for us now. Itโs impossible to go back to the way we were because we arenโt those people anymore. Weโve been through too much. Weโve seen too much.
Iโve witnessed the deepest, darkest parts of Dean. Iโve seen him cry and kill and come.
Heโs been inside me.
When we finally reach the dusty, blocked-off road where police cruisers, ambulances, FBI, media, and firetrucks are all lined up, I burrow my face deeper into the crevice of Deanโs shoulder. After three weeks of surviving the bowels of Hell with this man, I realize I donโt even know how to process life beyond our nightmare.
Dean sets me down, gingerly and careful, and we stand there for a moment facing our new reality together.
A fresh start. A second chance.
Flashing lights, noise, cameras, faces attached to people who will never understand.
I inhale a splintered breath, closing my eyes, feeling overwhelmed and panicked and relieved all at once.
And then his knuckles graze against my own like a soft kiss, a knowing touch, a promise. I feel his fingers interlace with mine. We stand there, hand- in-hand, watching as EMTs and police officers move towards us like a slow- motion movie. I hold onto him. Heโs still my lifeline. Heโs still all I have.
Weโre in this together.