Warning: this chapter has quite a bit of detail about what happened to Nic when she was 9. Ronald says some choice things.
As soon as Dean pulls up to the desolate trailer that corresponded to the address Sam had given me before we dropped him at the local library, my heart feels as if it is in the pit of my stomach. I am beginning to second-guess this whole business. I now realize that I am going to be in the presence of the man who had kidnapped and raped me as a child once again. Would he recognize me? Would he even remember? What was he going to say to me? My mouth is dry and it is hard to swallow. Tears prick the back of my eyelids, but I promise myself, I am not going to let him see how he affects me.
Sensing my hesitation, Dean grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. "If you want, I can go," he tells me in a soft voice. "No," I reply, knowing this is my fight. As much as I love him, I refuse to allow him to tackle my past. "I'll do it."
Opening the car door, I step out onto the ground and take a deep breath. The air is tinged with an acrid smell. I wrinkle my nose at the odor as Dean walks up to stand beside me. We both look to the dingy white and blue trailer and I take his hand in mine, to give me strength. 'It's now or never.' I think to myself.
Stepping over litter and empty beer cans and bottles, I reach the door and knock. Hearing commotion inside, I await the door to be opened. Muted curses come through the little cracked window in the door. Without warning the door swings outward toward me, making me jump back to avoid being knocked down. A mid-height man with a prominent beer gut, bloodshot brown eyes and a receding line of light brown hair stood in the frame. Those eyes, eyes that haunted me for years. I swallow the bile lodged in my throat.
"Whatever you're selling, I ain't buying," Ronald slurs as he squints at me and then Dean.
"Ronald Patrickson?" Dean asks when I remain silent.
"Yea. Do I know you?"
I finally find my voice and say, "You know me. Chicago, 1988. Jog your memory any?"
Ronald's brown eyes widen before he catches himself and schools his face in indifference.
"You got the wrong person," Ronald says, as he reaches for the door slams the palm of his hand on it to hold it open. "I don't think so," he tells Ronald, his voice low and threatening. Ronald shrinks back.
"Listen, I was young and dumb. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you. I had never done anything like that and never did after that," Ronald pleaded his case. "Please you got to know. I had nightmares for years. I regretted it."
I could feel the anger bubble inside me. "You had nightmares? NIGHTMARES?! No, I had nightmares. Every single night for a decade, I feared going to sleep because you always came then. Your face terrorized me in my dreams. Every night, I seen you grab me, carry me away from my dad and hit me, kick me, tear my clothes from my body. You forced me to-." By this time I was sobbing, tears rapidly overflowing my eyes. "You forced yourself on me. Pushed yourself into my tiny body while I silently cried, afraid to make a sound. Afraid to even breathe because you said you'd kill me, kill my dad. So, no, Ronald Patrickson," I say his name with venom, "you did not have nightmares!"
Dean's arm, the one not holding the door open, came around me, grounding me. He had the sense to tell I was letting my temper build and knew if I didn't rein it in, no telling what was going to happen. Ronald watched the gesture and backed away, stumbling over the litter scattered across the floor.
"I'm sorry. I am truly sorry. I didn't mean it. Like I said, I was young and stupid. Can't you just forget it now. It's been almost twenty years. Surely, you can let it go. Have your man there take care of you," Ronald was begging, imploring for forgiveness; tears staining his face, dripping onto his white wife-beater.
I step into his home, watching as he continues backtracking into his kitchen. Dean enters behind me, shutting the door. I follow Ronald as he staggers around the table and looks around, probably for some type of defense, protection. Dean pulls his gun from the back of his pants and cock it, "I don't think so."
The sound causes Ronald to instantly freeze, staring between me, Dean and the barrel. He suddenly lunges over the table toward Dean who squeezes the trigger in defense, hitting Ronald in the shoulder, a through-and-through hit. Ronald slumps onto the table, rolling off into the dirty floor. He is holding his bleeding shoulder and writhing in pain. "You stupid asshole! You shot me! And all over some slut who can't get over the fact that a real man gave her what no one else could!" Ronald's face is flushed with fury. "I tore that tight little pussy up and loved every second of it."
Ronald was on his back in the floor, looking up at us with a suggestive smirk on his face. I couldn't stand to hear another word. I strolled to hover over him. Lifting my leg, I lowered my foot settling it over his groin area, his words on repeat in my head. Every nerve-ending in my body was alive and I could feel the power within me surge. Putting every bit of energy I possessed into it, I stomp on this crotch until I felt two small pops. Ronald yowled like a dying dog.
Removing my foot, blood seeping through his jeans and beginning to pool on the floor beneath him. "You are a despicable human being you don't deserve the pleasure of ever using your dick again!" I said, bending over him and spitting into his face. Dean grabs me by the waist, lifts me up and carries me back to the Impala, sitting me in the passenger seat before closing the door and rounding it to get inside.
The adrenaline pulsing through my veins, the sense of satisfaction of finally, FINALLY getting retribution on the man who had stolen not only my body, but my innocence when I was just nine years old has my heart pumping rapidly. Never again will this man, Ronald Patrickson, be able to cause any physical, emotional or mental pain to another human being. I smile, a wicked and vicious grin. I have done it. I have defeated my demon. My personal demon wasn't an actual beast or monster; no, my demon has been an immoral and shameless degenerate of a human being.
Looking up at Dean, the shock and awe on his face is unmistakable. I can tell he was proud of me for ultimately conquering this last piece of my past. I could now move on, knowing that my attacker, my rapist would live out what little life he has left regretting ever kidnapping a harmless, naive child and forcing himself on her. The emotions on Dean's face runs through me and makes me feel invincible.
"Damn, baby!" Dean exclaims. "You put a whole new meaning to 'busting his balls'." He slides across the seat closer to me and pulls me into his arms. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers into my hair. "But remind me never to piss you off." I chuckle. Leave it to Dean to joke at a time like this.
"Baby, you could never anger me enough to do you bodily harm," I tell him, looking up into his eyes. "I'd just key the Impala." Dean scoffs and stumbles back, as if I had truly caused him pain. "That's low, Nic. Real low. What did Baby ever do to you?"
I laugh at him and reach for his hand. "Let's get out of here."
Feeling the purr of the engine beneath me has my body on edge, the rumble sending pulses through my body, ceasing at my core. How the hell am I horny after squeezing the true essence from that asshole's testicles? But that's what I was, and the reverberation from Baby is not helping my situation any.
Seeing a remote dirt road coming up, I pointed it out to Dean. "Pull down that road."
"Okay," Dean says, confusion lacing his answer, but does as I request. As soon as we are hidden enough from the main highway, I tell him to stop. Sliding the car into park, he reaches down and cuts the motor.
"What's wrong, Nic?" he worriedly asks me.
"Nothing," I answer, sliding closer to his side. "I just need a moment to clear my head."
I lean up to him and touch my lips to his. He reciprocates, running his tongue across my bottom lip. I reply with a slight gasp, allowing him to enter my mouth. Deepening the kiss, I slip my left hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. My right hand grabs his leg, slowly rubbing up his jean-covered thigh, right to his groin. Feeling the material tightening beneath my touch, I snag the button of his pants and pull it loose.
Dean excitedly groans into my mouth as we continue gliding our tongues together. He tries to pull away, but I keep a tight grip on his neck, clutching him to me. We only separate when the need for oxygen becomes too much. Opening my eyes, I look up into his green orbs. I can see my arousal and thrill mirrored there.
Maintaining my mode of attack, I swiftly pull his zipper down and reach into his boxers, latching onto his length. Pumping my hand slowly, he leans back and arches into my grip. Using my other hand and his, we work together to get his jeans and briefs over his hips, to his knees. My mouth waters, looking at his hardened member, head red and leaking. Getting up into the seat on my knees, I bend over placing kitten licks and kisses to it, causing Dean to hum in contentment.
Swirling my tongue around the tip, I slide my tongue into the slit, lapping up the pre-cum. Dean's hand lands on my head, fingers fisting my hair. I slowly press my lips around him, letting him slide into my mouth, the weight of it on my tongue. Flattening the muscle, I take him deeper until I feel him at the back of my throat. Suppressing my gag reflex and hollowing my cheeks, I take him even deeper.
"Oh g-god, N-Nic!" Dean, exclaims, fisting my hair tighter. Pulling up, I swirl my tongue round the head of his dick again and take him back in faster. Bobbing up and down quicker and quicker, I could feel not only the coil in my abdomen quiver, but his thigh muscles constricting. I take him down my throat and swallow around him, earning a loud moan from up top.
I reach between my legs and massage myself through my pants. I need the friction to stimulate my arousal. I slip a hand into my leggings, trying to achieve pleasure. Dean's hand soon meets mine and pushes it out of the way, his calloused finger caressing the bundle of nerves.
His ministrations match mine; faster strokes and more pressure on my clit the quicker and deeper I take him in. I take my now free hand and cup his balls, stroking and kneading them languidly.
He runs his finger up and down my folds, circling my entrance and returning to my clit. I moan around him as he thrusts his middle finger into me. I feel the coil tighten more and I pick up my pace, taking him in faster and massaging his balls quicker. His finger pushes harder and deeper into me, him adding another finger making my orgasm explode out of nowhere. His balls contract and he's spilling into me and I swallow every drop he gives me.
I let go of his softening cock, it falling out of my mouth. I lick my lips and sit up, watching him suck my juices off his fingers. "Not that I'm complaining but what was that for?" he asks.
I shrug and push my lips onto his, kissing him again. "Hmm. C'mere. It's my turn, now." Dean tells me pushing me back onto the seat.