Mort heard the bathroom door open and watched as Alex emerged, clad only in a towel. She looked at the man she assumed to be Mort Rainey and smiled.
"What's with the hat?" she asked. Shooter smiled and shrugged. Alex laughed at him. "Do I have any clothes lying around here?"
Shooter smiled. "Oh, honey, I don' think you need any clothes."
Alex cocked her head. "Mort, what's going on?" Shooter approached Alex and gently wrapped an arm around her waist.
You son of a bitch! Hands off of her!
"We've been rootin' around outside all day, darlin' – brought out the farmer in me I s'pose."
Not giving it a thought, Alex smiled. "Oh?" she said, a knowing smile on her face. "So you're the farmer and I'm, what, the milkmaid?"
"If it fancies you," Shooter said slyly.
Not a game, Alex, not a game!
Alex let her voice take on more of a seductive tone. Mort's "playfulness" had peaked her interest. "Well, did the farmer take his pill like a good boy?"
"Yes ma'am," he smiled. "Did you milk Bessy?"
Alex bit her lower lip. "Oh no," she said, sounding overly innocent. "I completely forgot. I'm a bad milkmaid…" She stopped, shaking her head. "Mort, I can't do this. I feel like I'm in a really bad porno or something." Shooter leaned down and kissed her forcefully, his tongue snaking into her mouth.
I'm going to kill you, bastard!
Not caring that Mort was still filthy, Alex let her towel drop to the floor and she pressed her body into his. "What's gotten into you?"
"Feelin' frisky, darlin'."
She smiled, pulling his shirt off of him. "No need to role play if you want to make things a little less…traditional. You know I don't have any problems with that."
Alex…baby, can't you tell that it's not me?
Shooter forced his accent away, trying his best to sound like Mort. "Sorry baby…" Shooter forced the vocabulary as well. "…I almost forgot that you have another side to yourself."
Alex laughed, sounding almost seductive. "How could you forget, Mort? I still owe you a lamp from last month's little incident."
Shooter laughed and kissed her again, this time more like Mort would have done. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. Once inside, he pushed her onto the bed and stripped off the remainder of his clothing. Alex looked at him and Mort could see the lust in her eyes.
It's not me…Why can't you see it?
She has no reason to think it's anyone else.
But I told her about Shooter! I told her about the accent and…And you also told her that you're perfectly fine now. It's been a few months since you got your prescription. You haven't said a thing, she has no reason to be concerned – that's the only way he's getting away with it.
He's going to rape her… He's in your body, she's not resisting… You aren't helping! Why the hell are you letting this happen? Why are you? I'm not, I'm fighting!If you fight anymore, you're going to lose. You'll sleep and you'll have no idea what he does.
Sobs rang through Mort's head, but not a hint of them appeared outwardly. Shooter tied Alex's wrists to the bedposts, she was far more than willing to let him do so. He just wished she'd stop saying Mort's name. Shooter lacked any of Mort's romantic tendencies and simply entered his prey – his hips thrusting roughly. Alex bucked to meet him, struggling against her restraints.
Shooter never shut his eyes. He simply looked at Alex's face, burning it into his memory – and Mort's. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and sweat was beginning to form at her hairline.
I'm gonna break you, missy. I'm gonna break you and make you pay for puttin' me away.
The thought was too much for Mort to bear. In a final silent cry, he let himself shut down.
