Shadows
I am a selfish bastard, I am not a good man though many would not believe me.
I left my wife to go on a suicide mission, thinking of only my goal (– the complete destruction of my life), my sorrow and never hers.
I kept Daniel to myself, as he went and when he came to me later.
I hate her.
I hated the fact that I'd never have her, never rip the clothes from her body, take her to my home and fuck her brains out like I wanted to. I hate the gold on her third finger that ends all these possibilities making them impossible.
Her lips begged my taste, her eyes my movements, her ears my whispers, her fingers my caress, her nose the sweet smell of our sweat mingling as I pumped forcefully into her.
But I was denied.
My heart was frozen by the way she shook me off and went to him, the black widow curse struck as I was by all purposes dead, I had no emotions left but hate. She had left me a shell of a man, a ghost with unfinished business.
Business, which would be finished tonight.
Her wedding night.
Speeding along the high way he reached the hotel, snuck into their suite and arranged things to his liking.
There were three rooms in the suite, a lounge, a bathroom and a bedroom.
He brought a chair from the lounge to the bedroom, and after laying his bag beside him, he sat in the chair and awaited their arrival, bottle of scotch in one hand and his gun in the other.
The giggling, her giggling, was the first thing he heard. For a fleeting second it filled his senses and lifted his frozen heart. But then there was a voice, another's one that did not belong in his fantasy, but had walked in on a nightmare.
Calmly he waited for them to make the progression to the bedroom. He waited in the dark, hearing the heavy breathing from them in a passionate embrace as they burst though the doors unaware of his presence as they made their way onto the bed.
Setting the bottle down silently, he cocked his gun. Gaining their frightened attention, only allowing the barrel of the gun in the light leaving himself in the shadows.
He was always in the shadows.
'Don't scream.' He murmured.
Throwing plastic strips to the bed he commanded.
'Hands and feet, Pete.'
'How …' he asked.
'Quiet.' He said in a deathly tone pushing the gun forward slightly.
Struggling on the bed she bound his hands and feet. Once finished she kissed him tears welling up in her eyes.
'Get up and hop over here.'
Struggling he made it to the edge of darkness, inches from the barrel of the gun, when a hand darted forward and pulled him over.
Reaching into his bag he took a length of duck tape placing it roughly over his mouth.
'Don't get fresh with me Sam, stay put while I talk with your boyfriend here.' His voice dark and emotionless.
Leaning close behind him he whispered in his ear while pressing the muzzle into his back.
'You shouldn't be here, not in her life and not in mine. But here you are.' Pete whimpered as the barrel was forced harder into his back, 'and that means you get to watch, this is what you would have become, as much as I hate to admit it we're similar. I know shocking isn't it, someone so pathetic could be compared with me, but we share one thing. That bitch over there. I don't like sharing, Pete, in fact I hate it almost as much as I hate her. She's going to be mine tonight.' He sneered. 'She's going to be mine for one night and your going to watch.'
Twisting the silencer on to his gun he point blank shot him in the knee. He whimpered louder than before as Sam whispered his name from the bed.
'Quiet.' Came the dead voice.
He could see the tears stream down her face, staring into the darkness where he and Pete resided.
His cold eyes rested on those tears, he felt nothing. Months ago this would have torn him apart, but she had done what years in the military, death of a son, divorce of a wife couldn't do she had made him dead inside, made him unable to feel anything.
Creeping to the edge he stepped into the light, the barrel glistened red from Pete's blood, his eyes a dull black even in the light from the other room.
'Jack?' she breathed sitting up.
'Shut it.' He spat.
Moving forward he pushed her down against the bed, jumping on top, pining her hips with his own, pointing the gun at her head. Watching with a reverent interest as frear filled hewr eyes.
Thrusting the gun in his pants he bound her hands above her head and attached them to the headboard. Taking the gun he set it on the bedside cabinet, then took up a knife.
He ran it over her face, not piercing the skin, but held with just enough force to allow the feeling of the cold steel to send shivers through her body, the movement waking his groin. He cut through her tears before moving the blade over the soft skin of her throat; slowly bring the tip between her breasts teasing at the material that bound them so tightly.
In minutes he had her laid bare before him, she stopped crying as though accepting the inevitable but her eyes where closed seemingly pretending it wasn't happening; that wouldn't do.
'Sam if you don't open your eyes, I'll kill him.' Her eyes fluttered open, glistening with fear.
He grinned. Fear was power, and he had a power over her, he could break her like she broke him.
And he would, a hundred times over from now till the end of darkness he'd tear her, and break her.
Her eyes were terrified, wanting to look away wanting to pretend it wasn't happening, but locked with her tormentors cold calculating lifeless black orbs. This was what he wanted and for one time in his life he was going to get exactly that. Putting the knife next to the gun, he stopped his ministrations just to look upon her.
'You know you really are quite beautiful.' His eyes scanned every inch of her, the lean toned muscles beneath pale skin, the toe that curled in a little too much, the scars that marked her would be flawless skin, the curve of her thighs, her belly button, her elbows and the twists of hair between her legs.
His hands touched each and every part of her, taking up the previous ministrations of the knife, his hand twisted roughly round her neck then brought down harder between her breasts over her stomach and roughly cupped between her legs forcing them apart.
Equally as rough he forced two fingers inside her, her eyes closed in pain, there he held forever forcing, relentless in his torment.
'Look at me.' He commanded.
Watery eyes looked on him, begging for the torment to end, but he waited.
'Stop.' She whispered.
He removed his fingers then looked deeply in her eyes before thrusting three fingers into her core.
'I said shut it.'
Biting down hard on her lip she waited out his torment, removing his fingers he slip them into his mouth. Reveling in the taste of her.
'Hmm, that's better Sam now your getting the hang of it. Pete, how's the view from over there?'
A mumble answered.
'Nice to know your not dying over there Pete-y, you just sit there watch your wife get raped you know, no big deal.'
'How does it feel Sam? To have someone you love just abandon you. Watch on as you fall apart inside, and the one person you could count on to make you feel better, to heal you, to make it all go away, just watches on.'
He watched the light of her eyes ebb away, her ability to feel also becoming lost.
She was breaking beneath him, his weight settling between her thighs, as he slithered on top, she hardly reacted at all, writhing slightly to try to prevent his erection going anywhere near her, but her efforts where futile as the bulge of his jeans sat heavily against her opening, growing with each passing second.
He kissed her roughly, as his hands rubbed her breasts, the soft whimpers from her mouth only served to fuel his enjoyment.
He pulled back to see a sob rack her body, causing her entire chest to heave and shake.
He had done it.
He had broken her.
Her limbs became limp in his grasp; her eyes were dark and lifeless. And deep with in those eyes that he had fallen in love with, that he was in love with was a flash of pure helplessness.
He knew that he'd done it, finally broken here made her feel just a taste of what he had.
Pushing off from her, he stood, gripping tightly to the railings at the bottom bed and watched.
Watched insanity unfold in the naked beauty before him, to a degree she had never known before.
His eyes drank in the sight hungrily.
10 minutes he stood just watching, listening. His senses tingled with each movement and sound that she made.
It was done, finally, and he was spent.
In all ways possible, he was tired.
One impulse he stepped forward and sat beside her one the bed.
'This is how it is Sam, this is how my life has been these last two years. I've killed a lot of people Sam, more than you know and more than you can imagine but not even the guilt and nightmares that came with that burden could compare with this. Can you handle it Sam? Can you live with yourself? Can you handle the guilt?'
It was a question that would be answered in time.
He stood and found his way back to the shadows, his place in the world and slipped from the room with out further thought or backward glance.
The shadows called to him, a peace that came with darkness was guaranteed as the arms of perpetual night wrapped round him, inviting him to an everlasting dreamless slumber.