She woke the next morning and found her forehead leaning against Billy's chest. He had his arms around her and her head rested on one of his biceps. She lifted her head so that her chin leaned against his chest and looked up at his face. The ever-present frown and glare lines that she'd always seen had vanished and he looked relaxed when he was sleeping. Of course, she remembered, he hadn't been glaring or even frowning at her the night before.
And then it came back to her and realized that they were both naked. She shifted slightly and grimaced at the sticky sensation between her legs, but reminded herself to be thankful it wasn't a painful one.
The way that Billy was holding her prevented her from moving much or slipping out of his grasp without waking him, so she closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Sleep wouldn't come, however, so she just lay there with her eyes closed and listened to the steady rhythm of Billy's heart beating. Her head moved with his chest when it rose and fell as he breathed, and she wondered, in the event that she did ever get the hell out of there and away from Billy, if she would ever be able to sleep with her boyfriend or her husband without thinking back to the gang member who had taken her virginity and her freedom. She knew that it would be impossible. But it wasn't something that she needed to worry about; she was never getting out of there anyway.
Billy stirred, interrupting her thoughts. She wanted to open her eyes and look up to see if he was waking up, but she decided to pretend that she was asleep instead. This way, she could see if he would do anything to her in her sleep, only she would be completely aware of it. He shifted his position so that he was more on top of her than she him, and she hoped to god that he would wake up soon because she didn't want to be this close to him for much longer.
When at last she got tired of pretending to be asleep, she sighed and moved a little, pretending to wake up. Then she looked up at his face again. He was watching her, his eyes clear of sleep. "Morning, sweetheart," he said, grinning with a glint of evil in his green eyes.
She glared at him and tried to roll over so that she was facing away from him. But as soon as he had allowed her to succeed he sat up in bed and crawled over her. She averted her eyes from his naked body as he did and tried to focus on anything but him.
When he had gotten out of bed he turned and stood there, watching her. She sat up, holding the blanket up to cover her bare chest and keeping her eyes on his face. "Enjoy our time together?" he asked, though the look on his face said that he already knew the answer.
She didn't answer, looking away.
"You did," he said, grinning at her. Then he leaned down quickly, catching her off guard, and dragged his lips along her jawline. "You know," he breathed in her ear, "just because you're here for my pleasure doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself."
She trembled at his touch and felt her breath catch in her throat at his words, and she tried to tell herself that it was because she was afraid. But it wasn't fear, and she knew it. She still had every reason to fear Billy Darley and what he might do to her, but her irrational lack of fear had returned, especially after the night before.
She looked away until he had pulled on his underwear, and then she watched him as he got dressed. Her stomach growled, but she didn't say anything about it and he didn't seem to have heard the noise.
Then he came over to the side of the bed and stroked her cheek. "I'll be back early tonight," he said, a devious smile curling his lips back to show his teeth.
She looked him in the eyes when she said, "Oh, joy," sarcastically.
He just smirked at her before he left.
As soon as he closed the door behind him she jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. She started the shower, hastily adjusting the temperature before jumping in. The hot water and the soap and the shampoo washed away the sweat and the sticky substances her body had created the night before. But she still felt dirty. She took the washcloth and scrubbed herself until her skin was an angry red color, but the feeling that she was unclean just wouldn't go away. And she knew that even if she tore off her own skin and shaved of her hair, the skin and the hair that Billy had touched, had kissed, had run his fingers over, even then she would still feel dirty and contaminated.
She felt dirty because he had touched her, kissed her, stroked her, and held her. But it was more than that. She felt dirty because she had enjoyed it when he touched her like that, and she knew she wasn't supposed to. And her guilty soul was trapped in a body that was no longer that of a virgin. Trapped until the day she died. Billy had run his hands over every possible surface of her body, had kissed nearly as much.
She pushed away thoughts of her night with Billy and took a moment to wonder if her family was doing alright. Today marked two days since she'd been kidnapped. And she had quite a story to tell already. At the thought of her dad, she leaned against the tiled wall and slid down it, the water still pouring over her. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs, and her own hot tears joined the liquid that ran down her skin.
What day was it? She took a deep breath, thinking. It had been December first, the day she was taken from Joe's gas station. The day after that, when Billy came back and . . . well, that had been the second. So it was December third. She and her dad would have been leaving to go home in a week. But not anymore. God, she hoped her mom wouldn't fly down to look for her and be with her dad. Better if he went home. And she hoped he would go home for Christmas. She knew that they would think of her just as often as she thought of them. But Christmas was special, and she wished it wouldn't be spoiled with them wondering where she was and if she was even still alive.
Eventually she had to stand up and turn off the water. Then she used the one towel to dry off and changed into more clean clothes from Billy's trash bag of them in the closet. She found another bag, an empty one, and put the dirty laundry in it, wondering if she would have to ask him to take it to a laundry place. So far she'd only seen him wearing a single outfit, but she dug around in the closet and found that he had plenty of clothes of his own. Clothes that had, as hers had likely, been stolen. She bit her lip and threw away a cigarette butt Billy had tossed to the floor the day before and then she went to the window. She opened the curtains and the window and looked out over the city. She couldn't see much, what with the smog and all of the tall, deserted buildings blocking her view.
She wondered absently if she'd ever see the family of four again. Part of her wanted to see them, and another part knew how foolish it was because seeing them would only make her miss her own family.
Billy returned at noon, and he threw another plastic bag containing something at her. He seemed pleased to find that she was wearing more of the clothes he'd stolen for her, but she pretended not to notice his lustful stare. Instead, she opened the bag and found another apple, this time accompanied by small cheeseburger from McDonalds. She nodded her silent thanks to him and then he left.
Then she went and stood by the window while she ate. She drank the rest of the water in her bottle and went to the bathroom, tasting the water that came out of the faucet before she filled the plastic bottle. She smiled down at the water; it would taste strange, even disgusting to other people because of the minerals and chlorine that she knew was in it. But to her, it tasted like home. The water that came out of the faucets and spickets back on her parents' ranch tasted exactly like the water that was available now. She was used to the taste, and had grown accustomed to it over the years, even so much that she hated the taste of bottle water. To her, the water bought in stores tasted like plastic.
She drank water more freely then, both because she liked the taste and because she could get it from the sink and it would always be there. She savored every small bite of the cheeseburger, saving the apple for later. Billy hadn't brought her dinner the night before, and she'd like to have something to hold her over if that was the case again.
She expected Billy to show up maybe an hour or two earlier than he had the night before, but he burst into the room at three-thirty in the afternoon. She hadn't been expecting him and had been looking out the window and trying to make shapes out of the few fluffy clouds that hung in the sky.
She whipped around in surprise when Billy not only bust through the door, but stalked up to her. He grabbed her arm and she was nervous that he was angry about something until a grin split across his face.
"Come on," he said breathlessly. He started dragging her towards the door, but she caught on and walked in the right direction on her own.
She wanted to ask what was the matter, why he was taking her out of the room that had been her prison for the last two days, but her throat closed up with sudden fear that she was going to be sold again. Sold again, just as she was starting to think that maybe belonging to Billy Darley could be bearable. But why? What had she done wrong? She could clearly remember that he had been pleased and satisfied with her performance in bed the night before, so why was he getting rid of her?
She glanced over her shoulder at the door to the room, which Billy had slammed shut and not even bothered to lock. She had no belongings there besides the apple she'd saved for supper, but she still felt like she was losing something if Billy was selling her.
He seemed almost excited, grinning profusely and gripping her arm tightly as he steered her back down the flights of stairs and hallways she'd been brought through two days before. She wanted to turn and look at his face, to search his expression for some explanation, but he was pushing her so quickly that they were nearly running, and she had to keep her eyes on her feet to keep from tripping or falling. Not that she would have gotten far; Billy's hand was clamped on her upper-arm like an iron vice and she doubted he would let her fall far before jerking her back to her feet.
Billy kept moving, and she kept right along with him, all of the way to the front doors of the building, where they burst out into the sunlight and went down the stairs. There was a sleek black car with bright orange flames on its sides waiting beyond the sidewalk. As Billy pushed her towards it and opened the door for her to get into the passenger seat, he said, "Sweetheart, you made the news."
Tyler was so surprised that she didn't move or try to run away after she'd gotten in and when Billy moved around the truck and slid into the driver's seat. He locked the doors with the click of a button, but she had other things than running away on her mind.
Billy turned the key and the radio came on, and there it was. Her name. She heard it once, twice, and then again. They were talking about Joe and Timmy's murders. And then they started talking about her. They said that she'd been taken from the station and that no one had seen her since her disappearance. Then they gave a brief description of what she looked like and said that the men who took her had been wearing masks and that they'd covered up their license plate, so they were unknowns.
Billy was grinning from ear to ear, looking proud to call himself the owner of something that was important enough to make the news.
But Tyler didn't see it, because just then she heard a voice on the radio that was unmistakable. She automatically straightened, leaning towards the stereo in the car as if it would bring her closer to the owner of the voice. It was her dad. He was talking slowly and carefully, and though she knew no one else would be able to tell, she could hear the tone of voice he was using and knew that he was staying as stable as he could for his interview and trying not to break down.
"And now," a female voice interrupted, "we're playing a part of the interview that we just had with Jeffrey Williamson, the father of Tyler Williamson, who was kidnapped the evening of December first."
Tyler felt her throat close up when she heard her father's name. And she couldn't breathe at all when she heard his voice.
"She's a good kid," he said. "She always has been. She's talented, beautiful, good in school. She doesn't deserve this. Words can't describe properly how grateful Tyler's mother and I would be to anyone who has seen her or knows where she is." And then his tone became biting and cold, dangerous, and he said, "And whoever took her, if you're listening to this you son of a . . ." he trailed off, taking a deep breath before he continued. "You give back my little girl and you give her back healthy and in one piece. I swear to god, I'll find you, you bastard. I'll find you."
Then there was the voice of a different, unfamiliar man, and Tyler realized that he must have been the man who conducted the interview when he asked, "If Tyler's listening to this, what would you like to tell her?"
Tyler didn't know when tears had welled up in her eyes, but they spilled over her cheeks like a flood when her dad's voice cracked as he said, "Tyler, I love you so much, and so does your mom and so do your brothers. It's gonna be okay; we're going to get you back safe and sound. Stay strong, Punkin."
She was trembling before he said it, but when he said the last word, called her his nickname for her that he'd been using since she was a baby, she bit her lip until she drew blood. She tried to keep it from happening, but she couldn't; she hugged her knees and rested her forehead on them as the tears streamed down her face and sobs racked her body.
She lifted her head and set her chin on her knees, looking at Billy through her tears when he spoke.
"Well," he said, "I didn't take you, now, did I? So Daddy's threats aren't directed at me. I'm fuckin' free to do with you as I please."
"You'll be on his list," Tyler heard herself growl through clenched teeth, "I swear to god if I ever get away from you that I'll make sure of it."
He only smiled. "Well, Punkin," he said, smiling wider when he saw the way she flinched as he used the nickname, "you aren't ever going back to Daddy, so I'm not too fucking worried about that. And if he comes looking for you I'll bring him back here and kill him while you watch."
She wondered how it had happened so fast, but the tears had stopped flowing. The sadness and pain and fear was gone, replaced by hatred and anger that were stronger than anything she'd ever felt before. She didn't even wipe away the tears. She just put her feet back on the floor where they were supposed to be, folded her hands in her lap, and turned to look at him, smiling as sweetly as she possibly could in her anger. Then, in the sweetest, most polite voice she could manage, she said, still smiling, "If you lay a finger on my father, I swear to god I'll tear you apart with my bare hands."
He only smirked at the reaction he'd gotten from her, but if he thought she'd missed the way his eye twitched, he was wrong.
She reached out and pushed the button, turning off the radio. "Well," she said, wiping away the tears and smearing the liquid on her jeans, "are we going to go for a drive or are we going back to your room?"
He grinned and said, "Sweetheart, we're going back to our room to do what Daddy fears most."
Then he got out of the car and walked around to open her door. When he did, he raised an eyebrow as she stepped out, offering him her arm to grab if he wanted.
He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously so she said, "What? You think I'm stupid enough to believe that I could run faster than you if I took off? And even if I could, I have no idea where I am. How the hell would I get away if you knew every corner and building and I didn't know shit?"
He smirked once more and put his hand on her lower back, ushering her back up the steps and through the big front doors. He kept his hand on her back, but she never once stepped out of line. On the way back to the room, she did give each and every man they passed the coldest, most murderous glare that she had in her. And she was still spitting mad about Billy threatening her dad, so she knew her glares were especially venomous right then. A few of the men even flinched.
When they got back into the room and while Billy was closing and locking the door, Tyler asked, "Did you graduate high school?"
He turned and frowned at her. "Why're you so fuckin' talkative all the fuckin' sudden?" he demanded. "You're supposed to be scared and withdrawn because I fucked you."
She shrugged nonchalantly. "You can make me have sex with you," she said without turning around. "Why does that have to affect the way we talk to each other? I'm just bored and trying to make conversation."
He laughed cruelly. "Bored?" he repeated. "I think I can fix that."
She turned around and rolled her eyes. "Once again, you're so clever," she spat sarcastically.
He smiled. "I wasn't actually talking about fucking you for once," he said.
She frowned at him, wondering what he had up his sleeve.
And she got her answer a moment later, when he picked up a leather bag she hadn't noticed him dropping earlier when he came to take her to the car. He opened it and pulled out a white and red McDonald's paper bag.
As soon as the leather bag was open the scent of still-warm food spread through the room and Tyler's mouth watered. But she didn't let Billy know that, wondering if he was just taunting her. Was he going to make her feed him? Would she even get a single french-fry?
But her frown only deepened when Billy said, "Dinner for two," and walked over the bed, where he sat down, setting the bag beside him and patting the place beside it.
And she obeyed, moving to sit on the bed with the bag in between them. He was digging through the bag, but her eyes were on his face. She sighed. "You know, if you weren't a sadistic, thieving, heartless, murdering rapist, and if we'd never had sex . . . we could be friends."
He stopped what he was doing in the bag and his gaze rose to meet hers. "Friends," he repeated questioningly, sounding doubtful.
She shrugged. "If you weren't a gang member who's killed multiple people and who does drugs and is an alcoholic and steals things for a living, yeah."
He seemed unimpressed. "So we could be friends," he said, "if I wasn't . . . me."
She nodded. "Yep," she said cheerfully.
"Why the fuck would you—would anyone—want to be friends with me?" he asked, frowning at her.
She was surprised when he asked why anyone would want to be friends with him, rather than asking only about her. But she decided not to mention it and shrugged again. "Well, aside from the killing and the drugs and the drinking and the theft and the sex, you seem like you have an interesting personality. And I tend—tended—to make friends with unusual people."
He snorted. "You would be my . . . friend," he asked, but it sounded more like a questioning statement.
"Well I don't really have a lot of choices, now, do I?" she asked in response.
He snorted again, his eyes returning to his hands in the bag. "You are one fuckin' weird girl."
"Thanks, I know," she said. But her eyes had left his face and dropped to see what he was doing in the bag. He pulled out a cardboard box that Tyler guessed held a Big Mac, and her stomach growled and her mouth watered at the sight of it. She glanced at Billy to see if he'd heard, and it was apparent by his gaze resting on her stomach that he had.
"'D you eat the food I brought earlier?" he asked.
She raised her eyebrows and looked up at him. Then she said sarcastically, "No, I was so full already that I ripped it up and threw it out the window and watched the birds eat it."
He smirked at her sass but said nothing.
Then he pulled out a large cardboard container of fries and handed that to her as well. He pulled out his own food and began to eat, not noticing that Tyler waited until he'd taken his first bite to even open her cardboard box. She leaned over and glanced down into the bag, smiling when she found a napkin and a small packet of ketchup. She spread the napkin on her lap, squeezed the ketchup onto her fries, and started to eat. She grabbed her water bottle and was just twisting the cap to open it when Billy held out a large drink to her.
"There's only one, so don't fucking drink it all," he said.
She nodded and took the drink from him, allowing herself only a small swallow of it before she held it out to him again. It was a strawberry shake, her favorite flavor. And it was a flavor that she'd thought she might never taste ever again.
She had never eaten in front of Billy before, and he'd never eaten while she was there. She knew that he was watching her as she bit into her burger, chewed, and swallowed. She had always paid attention to her table manners, and it was a pet peeve of hers when other people had bad manners while eating. Her brothers used to drive her crazy by intentionally chewing with their mouths open or talking before they'd swallowed their food. So she did her best to ignore Billy's eating, especially since he had terrible manners and she knew she couldn't scold him or do anything to him for it. And if he found out how much she hated his manners, he would probably be sure to exaggerate them further just to bother her.
Tyler had always been a fast eater in spite of her manners, and she finished her food first even though she'd savored and enjoyed every bite. She washed it down with a gulp of water from her bottle and decided to make conversation. "What's your favorite color?" she asked suddenly.
He had been focusing on slurping the shake, but he turned and looked at her incredulously when she asked. "Don't fuckin' have one," he said.
"Then pick one," she said.
He raised his eyebrows. Then he stared at her for a few seconds and said, "Brown."
She bit her lip. "Brown," she repeated. "Why brown?"
He frowned. "God," he said, "I choose a color like you want and then it's not fucking good enough? The fuck?"
Tyler shrugged. "I never said it wasn't good enough. I was just curious about why you picked brown."
He just turned away and finished drinking the shake. Or so she thought; a moment later he turned back to her and handed her the cup.
She thought he was handing her the empty cup and that he expected her to take it to the trash. But when it was in her hands she could tell that the cup wasn't empty yet. Was he really giving her the rest of the drink? She narrowed her eyes at him, never letting her gaze leave him as she lifted the straw slowly to her lips and took a sip of the pink liquid in the cup.
He had been watching her, and he seemed completely uninterested in her consumption of the remaining shake, so she drank the rest. She looked around the room as she did, and when she'd finished the last of it she put it in the bag that sat on the bed between them. She started in surprise and looked quickly up at Billy when he hit the bag suddenly, pushing it off the bed.
He smirked at her wide-eyed look of surprise and leaned forward suddenly, putting his hand on the back of her neck and pulling her in for a long, deep, drawn-out kiss. The kind of kiss that, once again, made her want more.
She knew what he wanted; he'd satisfied his stomach and now he needed to satisfy his other desires. She'd known this was coming. She'd anticipated it with curiosity, wondering if he would treat her more roughly tonight since it wasn't her first time. She'd wondered whether it would be as pleasurable an experience as the night before had been.
And in truth, it was just as good, if not better.