A week came and went without Bobby seeing neither hide nor hair of Mac, no last name. She'd found a part-time position at the Shop and Bag in Salt Lake City to help supplement her income while settling into benefits at Salt Lake Memorial Hospital. It took her the entire week to find and become hired at both establishments, two extensive interviews at the hospital too; apparently her inability to stay in an area for more than a few months of late made hiring her a gigantic leap of faith where the hospital was concerned. Being a nurse in the triage unit in the ER was a serious gig.
And somehow in between working both these jobs for money and benefits she had to fix up the shit pile of matchbox tinder she was currently living in before it went up in flames or fell down around her…
The brunette was finishing her second cup of coffee at seven that morning when she saw Mac's red truck rumble past on the dirt road out from her home. She'd been sitting on the front porch so she had seen him as soon as she heard him coming. Bobby had to admit, she was shocked, if a bit flabbergasted that Mac was even up this early in the morning. She thought for sure he'd be sleeping off a bender until two in the afternoon or coming off three days of insomnia thanks to his drug use, sleeping for double the amount of time he'd been alert. Her long legs uncrossed and Bobby sat forward on her Amish deck chair, something she'd picked up on the way from Nevada to here. She was expectant. Why, she couldn't say for sure. It wasn't as if they had a running relationship that was anything more than obsessive, possessive and purely sexual. He didn't belong to her just like she didn't belong to him; despite his claims of the opposite.
The truck stopped on a dime, the chassis displacing its weight from the back to the front before seating back on the shocks and tires. Both the windows to the cab were down and Mac leered out at her from the driver's side through the passenger side window. "Well, well, well, if it ain't my fav'rite li'l pussy…"
Bobby smirked, which he may or may not have seen at that distance, and leaned back on her chair, relaxing. She felt like rolling her eyes. "I have a name…and 'pussy' ain't it."
Mac grinned wider, if that were possible for him, and rested his forearm over the steering wheel. "C'mon sweet thing…didn' you miss ol' Mac one li'l bit since I been gone? Huh? I been missin' you…cock's hard just lookin' a'you from here, baby."
And that made her roll her eyes… "Oh please, Mac…" She shook her head before taking the last sip of her coffee, draining the mug. "Ya missed me so damn bad ya stayed 'way for a week? I find that hard to believe…wasn't your cock hard when ya were missin' me?" She grinned slyly, the fox baiting the wolf out into the open where he could be more vulnerable…less cover. "Thinkin' 'bout me and my hot tight cunt…suckin' on your cock…milkin' ya…"
Mac's whole face changed and Bobby knew she had him thinking those nasty thoughts about her for real now. She was about to get up and go back into the house, put her cup away and get in the shower, when Mac shut off the truck after putting it in park in the middle of the street. He wrenched the door open, lurched out and came around the front of the truck in a snit. Bobby's eyes widened infinitesimally at each thundering footfall up her dirt drive, the look on his face as he got closer almost murderous. If he didn't relish being turned on he sure hadn't shown that to her when they first began…whatever this was, so his behavior was new and unfamiliar to her.
Her body was up and out of the chair before her brain even had time to register the command. Her lithe long dancer's legs moved her swiftly to the door and through it, slamming it shut hard, throwing her body against it to accomplish the action. She didn't have a large bolt on the door or even much of a chain to speak of so Bobby knew in a few minutes Mac would be inside. Her fingers fumbled with the chain and the latch, trying to seat the one in the bracket on the wall so that would buy her whatever time it could; she was scared and the damn thing wouldn't go in. "Shit! Fuck!" She fumbled the little metal latching one more time, the chain rattling at it hung limply from her hands once more, having recovered it again. By this time she heard those thundering steps on her front veranda and they stopped ominously on the other side. Bobby stopped working, listened for a moment to thick dangerous silence.
Mac's breathing had picked up double time since he left the cab of the truck. His anger ratcheted towards dangerous until he could taste the memory of Bobby's blood on his tongue just as well as if it was still coating it and slipping silkily down his throat, painting his teeth. When he stopped in front of the door he hadn't even thought about anything yet; now he'd decided the best way to break her, train her, make her perfect, was to scare her tight little cunt into seeing him as the dominant, him as the one that gave her benefit of everything and not her for herself. Her will didn't exist. Not anymore…
Was he stalling? Why was he stalling? Why was he making her wait for whatever crazy tramped up punishment he wanted to doll out to her? Bobby's dark eyes closed, her breathing trying to regulate as she waited for the inevitable. She tried to calm herself but it wasn't working, nothing could now. Would he kill her? Maybe he would just maim…? These and more thoughts ran through her mind like a sieve.
"Bobby…" Mac sang her name out to her like was a game, a childish game. "Baby Girl…" He was still crooning. "Open…the door, Baby Girl…"
Bobby's shoulders slumped and her tall frame curled down and in on itself. He wasn't going away. He was taunting her. Her forehead rested silently against the wooden door in between her hands, palms flat on the sanded wood and peeling paint and a small sigh popped out of her mouth unbidden. "Fuck…"
"I know you're standin' there, right inside the damn door…" He taunted some more. "I can hear you breathin'…smell that cunt from here. You wan'me…" He grinned a sick little grin to himself, although he would have preferred if she could have seen it. "C'mon Baby Girl…open the door an' let ol' Mac put that burnin' pussy fire out…"
There wasn't even time to respond because as soon as Bobby's brown eyes opened and looked the door directly in the grain, level with where Mac's eyes may have been on the other side, the door shook on it hinges right there in the frame. Bobby recoiled quickly, three steps back before she knew it.
"You fuckin' bitch!" He yelled abruptly, slamming the door again with both fists. Mac was powerful and that alone seemed enough to bring down the door, eventually anyway, if he kept it up. "Open the fuckin' door, pretty puss or I'm comin' the fuck in there an' when I get ya in my hands I'm gonna fuck you 'til I can' feel my dick an' yer cunt is so damn raw an' crusty you'll be standin' fer weeks! I'll make you bleed! Ya hear me…fuckin' whore!? I'll make that cunt bleed!" Once more his fists slammed down on the wood and something somewhere cracked, giving way to his physical demands. "It's gonna be fuckin' sick! Now open…the fuckin'…door!"
Bobby had never been this afraid before. She was shaking like a leaf and she could barely stand on her own two feet. Her legs felt like Jello or limp noodles and her spine felt about to liquefy and leave her puddle on the floor in no time at all. "Mac…please…stop…"
He laughed maniacally, deep and hearty. "I can' even describe what I'm gonna do t'you, pretty puss…" He stepped back and slammed his entire body against the front door and it shook hard in the frame, a panel splintering and falling inward briefly until a rectangle of space opened between the outside and the inside and she could see Mac, and he could see Bobby. "I see you'n there, Baby Girl…c'mon an' open it up. Let ol' Mac in…"
As soon as he was done talking, the door having broken enough that it was but feeble wood between the two of them now, Bobby took off running down the hall toward the back of her home. At the very same time Mac lunged at the door, sticking his arm through and fiddling with the locks so he could get inside. Bobby had just about reached her bedroom when she felt rough palms close around her upper arms and pull her bodily back, almost lifting her off her own feet for a split second. "Fuck!" She yelled. "Mac, no!"
Mac sneered at her, manhandling her so she faced him. Bobby was struggling, fighting back with all she had; by pure coincidence and luck she was able to get in a good sucker punch to Mac's jawline, dizzying him. Her knee came up and her foot came down hard, stomping on Mac's left foot. His thick soled boots cushioned the majority of the blow but he still growled at both affronts. "Fuckin' whore…li'l bitch…" He backhanded her hard, her face snapping to the right. Bobby tasted blood, dribbling down her chin once her mouth opened a bit. Instead of remaining calm and feeling weak Bobby lunged forward and bit Mac on his mouth, bloodying his bottom lip and the flesh between lip and chin as her teeth punctured it. "Motherfuck!" Mac growled again, shaking her by her upper arms, one, twice, her head bobbing back and forth like a Pez dispenser before he threw her bodily back, her shoulder blades and back hitting the wall to the right of her bedroom door first, the back of her head cracking against it not a second following.
Bobby gasped, a harsh white light exploded behind her eyeballs and blocked out her sight of everything else, and she slumped down and forward, Mac's strong destructive arms holding her dead weight.
Eyelids fluttered and caught a sliver of light in the surrounding dark. It was cool, damp, and smelled like Earth and musty belongings that had been hidden away for much too long. Deep brown eyes opened finally and in the darkness the pupils dilated large and black, shrinking her irises away to help her see. She couldn't see a whole Hell of a lot in that stodgy blackness but the smells and the dim sliver of light slinking through to her was enough to tell this wasn't nighttime in someone's home in a normal room. It was the middle of the afternoon and it was someone's cellar or unfinished basement.
And then she remembered…
Mac's strong arms had thrown her up against the wall beside her bedroom. She'd felt the air leave her lungs right before light exploded behind her eyelids and she'd heard a sickening crack from inside her own skull. She'd passed out. That had to be the explanation for this, the not knowing what this was, what was going to happen to her now… Bobby went to move her arms, to reach for her head to feel the back of it, and found she couldn't move either one of her arms. They were bound tightly behind her, her arms stretched straight, the knot between her wrists even with the small of her back. The back of her head felt sticky and itchy, wet, and she just knew the abuse she'd taken had broken her skin and it was blood that was sticky and wet and matting her hair to her scalp and the cheek she laid on, on her side, also slicked with something sticky and wet. The earth stuck to it in places, dusty canyon earth and desert, sticking in the blood like cement or filler, making a paste of her spilled life source.
It was hard and took all the energy she had without passing out again, but Bobby managed to roll forward onto her belly in an attempt to use her legs and feet as a propeller. Perhaps she could…
"Don' even think 'bout it Baby Girl…" Mac's voice came out of the deep shadows, ominous but amused. He was proud of himself, having her there like that. "Ain't no escapin' from me…"
Brown eyes searched, her head moving to try and see him. What direction was he coming from? Where was he now? Bobby was frantic now. He'd already hurt her while she was free, able to defend herself to the best of her able body and it's power and strength and now here she was tied up and bound. She couldn't imagine the horrors that would befall her now… Her mouth remained shut and no words dared threaten to spill off that tongue. Her eyes finally caught him walking forward to her. The more her eyes adjusted the more everything became clear. It was a cellar or unfinished basement that he'd thrown her in and she was tied up by rope at the moment but there was a heavy chain with thick links and an industrial strength lock and shackles connected to a cement pad in the ground by an industrial D-ring closure and that whole thing, the scene and all, beckoned to her like they'd been long lost friends.
"Please…Mac…you don't have to do this. We…we had sex last week. I'm willin'…whatever ya want…just…lemme go alright?"
Mac shook his head. "Naw, don' think so Baby Girl. I'm jus' gettin' warmed up…" He grinned evilly, stepping on Bobby's fingers on her right hand that was splayed out over the hard pack ground. She cried out in pain and he laughed, amused. "M'sorry pretty puss…did that hurt you? Got more where that came from…"
Bobby wouldn't cry. She would beg him; the brunette nurse wasn't above it. But she wouldn't cry for her life; she refused to give him the satisfaction of that. Mac wanted the tears and the sorrow and the pain. He was addicted to it and feeling other's similar feelings about inadequacies that he had himself, was his drug. It made him who he was, along with everything else.
"You're a monster." She said simply.
"Yeah…broke that door wide open too, Baby Girl. Hope you're ready t'see the fruits o' yer efforts. Monster'n me wasn' free 'til you brought yer sweet li'l ass here an' swung them hips 'round so I could smell it like yer cunt juice." He smirks and his blackened teeth show through like the smile of death. "Be damned if'n I couldn' oblige you in some way…" His smile only gets more evil with the passing moment.
"You don' go home. You can' go home, anyway. You b'long t'me now, pretty puss. You do what I want; no matter what that somethin' is." He cracked a sly smirk, bemused. "Got it…?"