Held & Pushed (2 book bundle) (17 page)

Chapter
26

The next
morning, Ron kept his word and brought me a few things to occupy myself with.
He brought a book of word searches, a book of crossword puzzles, a crayon to
write with, and a book to read. To my surprise, it was his first book. I
honestly hadn’t expected him to let me read it. But here it was.

After
breakfast, he headed off to his bedroom to write, and I picked up his book,
titled
Welcome
. The cover was
reminiscent of a romance novel, except it depicted a man strangling a woman.
Nothing romantic about that.
I opened the book and began
reading.

Hours
later, I closed the book and yelled to Ron that I was hungry. He came in and
made us each a bowl of soup. While we ate, he asked me if I was done with the
book.

“Not yet.
Almost.”

“By dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I
can’t wait to hear what you think about it.”

“How’s the
other one coming?”

“Good. Everything’s
flowing nicely. I did hit a snag, however.
Nothing for you to
worry about, though.
It’ll all work out.”

We
finished our lunch and he rushed back to his bedroom. I hurried through my secret
exercises and got back to reading the book.

It was no
wonder the damn thing hadn’t sold well. It was horrible. It was sloppily
written. And the story—a group of lost hikers stumble across a shack in the
woods in which a family of murderers live and are killed one by one (like that
hadn’t been done to death, no pun intended)—didn’t hold up. The timeline was
wrong, and the names were confused a few times. The people in the story did
things that normal, real people could never do. They had impossible strength
and their bodies were pushed far past the point that would’ve killed any human.

As I
closed the book and thought about that, I realized that was why he tortured
people in the basement. He was testing the human body for that realism he
talked about. He needed to know just how far a person could be pushed before they
fell. Just how far they’d bend before they broke.

I
shuddered to think I was one of his subjects, even though I hadn’t really been
tested physically.

Then I
gasped. He wasn’t testing me physically. He was testing me mentally. He was
pushing all my buttons, arousing my emotions and messing with my mind. He was
seeing how far he could push me before I snapped.

Well I
wasn’t your average broad. I was a mother. I wasn’t snapping that easily. If he
wanted to break me, he had his work cut out for him.

As we ate
dinner, Ron asked the inevitable question that I’d spent the afternoon
preparing to answer.

“What did
you think? And be honest, Nicole.”

“It was
interesting,” I said.

“How so?”

“The
things your characters did and how they interacted with one another were
interesting.”

“Did you
like it?”

“Yes.” I
didn’t.

“Did you
think it was good?”

“Yes.” It
wasn’t.

“What was
your favorite part?”

The end,
when it was over. “I kind of liked the ending.
When the girl
got away.”

“Well, she
didn’t really get away.”

“No. But
she did for a minute. Until he caught up to her and dragged her back to the
house kicking and screaming.”

Studying
me, Ron asked, “What would you have done differently had you been her?”

I was
careful with my words. I didn’t want him to know how I would do anything if I
got away from him, because there would be a day when I did, and I didn’t want
him to know what to look for.

“I think
she did everything right. She just got caught. He was smarter than her. She did
all she could.”

He kept
staring at me and nodded, clearly satisfied. I assumed he was the man in the
story, so saying that he was smarter than his victim was a stroke to his ego.

If I
guessed it right, Ron had sat around and fantasized about kidnapping and
killing a woman.
Or women.
Instead of actually doing
it, he’d written that book. However, the book was a flop. This gave him a
reason to live out his fantasies for real, not just on paper.

Then
again, I could be completely wrong. Maybe he was just a psychopath who enjoyed
killing women and decided to write about it. His first book flopped, so he
thought he’d write the next one as he tortured the women instead of later.
After all, he had just told me that he wanted to write about Crystal while it
was still fresh in his mind.

Either
way, the man was nuts. And his book sucked.

That
night, after he handcuffed me to the headboard, he kissed me goodnight and
left, saying he was going to write. I welcomed the darkness and the silence.

I fell
asleep quickly and had horrible dreams. In them, Ron was having his way with
me. Oddly, in my dreams, I enjoyed it. I moaned and moved beneath him as he
rocked me steadily. As he brought me to climax, I threw my head back, arched my
back, and opened my eyes.

I was
shocked to discover that it was real. It wasn’t a dream. Ron was on top of me,
naked and panting, and I was in the throes of a soul-shaking orgasm. I tried to
stop it, but I was too far in. As my body tensed and spasmed, tears rolled from
my eyes and dropped onto the pillow. I gasped and started to moan, but I bit my
lower lip to stop it from happening. I couldn’t stop the orgasm, but I could
stop the moan. Or so I thought. It still managed to escape me, though not as
loudly as it would have otherwise. That was the most bizarre orgasm I’d ever
had.

How could
this happen? How could I have let it happen? I felt disgusted.

Minutes
after my orgasm, Ron had one of his own. He quickened his thrusts and finally
trembled on top of me, shuddering to a stop. He lay on top of me for a few
minutes, kissing my neck as his breathing returned to normal.

“That was
amazing, Nicole.
Absolutely amazing.”
He got up,
kissing my breasts as he went. He grabbed his clothes and left me in the room
alone, in the dark, crying,
racked
with even more
guilt.

I felt
like I’d cheated on Wade. I was so angry at both Ron and myself. Was it normal?
Did it happen to other women? I had no idea. It was one of the many things I’d
have to ask the psychiatrist that I’d no doubt be seeing for years after I got
out of this house.

The one
thing that kept coming to my mind was would Wade be angry with me? Would he
forgive me or feel as though I’d cheated on him? I knew that he’d be so happy
to see me alive he wouldn’t care about that and wouldn’t hold it against me. It
wasn’t cheating. I was held captive by a madman who had forced himself on me
while I slept. My dream state had tricked me. It’s not like I went out and got
myself a boyfriend. He would know that.

But why did
I still feel like I’d betrayed him?

Chapter
27

Many days
later, Ron left the house, saying he had several errands to run. He said he
would be late getting back and that he’d pick up dinner while he was out.
Discussing what dinner would be, we agreed on a pizza and he left.

I sat at
the table, doing word search puzzles, one after the other. It successfully kept
my mind occupied until Ron returned with the pizza. To my surprise and dismay,
he brought more than just a pizza.

He walked
in, smiling, and set the pizza on the table. He also had a brown paper bag,
which he set on the floor beside his chair.

“Miss me?”
he asked.

“Like an
ingrown hair,” I replied.

He laughed
and took two plates from the cabinet. As he set them on the table, he said, “I
have a surprise for you, Nicole.”

“Yeah?
What is
it?
A dead puppy?”

He chuckled,
as usual. “No. It’s better than that. But it can wait until after we’ve eaten,
don’t you think?”

“If you
weren’t going to give it to me until after we eat, why’d you mention it now?”

“To tease you, of course.”
He smiled and served us each a piece of pizza and a soda.

We ate in
silence for a while. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but I was wondering
what sort of surprise he could possibly have for me.

As soon as
we were finished, Ron cleared the dishes from the table, put the remainder of
the pizza on the counter by the refrigerator, and put our soda cans in the
recycle bin. It still struck me as funny that a serial killer as twisted as Ron
would recycle, but I’d seen him do it many times. Newspapers, aluminum cans,
and plastic bottles. He was a saint except for that nagging killing thing.

Ron
returned to his chair and leaned over. I heard the bag rattle. He sat up
straight, but didn’t show me what he had for me.

“Have you
enjoyed your stay here, Nicole?”

“Are you
serious?”

“Of course
I’m serious.”

“I’d
rather be at home.”

“I know
you would. But have you enjoyed your stay here?”

“It hasn’t
been as bad as it could’ve been, I guess.”

He nodded.
“I’ve brought you something I think you will enjoy greatly.
It’s
a little reward for behaving so well while you’ve been here. I made a stop
while I was out today. I had to tell a little white lie.”

“As opposed to a big black one?”

He
crunched his brows together. “What was that?”

“Nothing,”
I said, shaking my head.

“Anyway, I
know you’ve been here a while and I thought I’d do something nice for you. So I
stopped off and got you this.”

He brought
his hand up from his lap and placed the item on the table. When he pulled his
hand back, I gasped.

“Where did
you get that?” I demanded.

“You sound
angry.”

“Where did
you get that?”

“Well I
didn’t get it from a store.”

“Where?”
I said
through clenched teeth, trying to keep from crying.

“Let’s
just say it’s used.”

“You son of a bitch.
Tell me where you got that.”

“I think
you know, Nicole.”

I cried. I
reached out with my left hand and picked it up. I slowly brought it up to my
nose and inhaled deeply, breathing in a scent I hadn’t smelled in months. It
was the wonderful scent of my beautiful baby boy.

“I see you
recognize it as belonging to your son.”

I nodded.

“I thought
you might.”

Struggling
to control my emotions, I said, “It’s his first teddy bear. It’s one of his
favorites.”

“That’s
sweet,” he said without emotion.

“How did
you get this?” I asked, thinking he’d broken into my house and stolen it.

“I took it
before I left.”

“What do
you mean before you left?”

“Well as
Wade was leading the way to the door as I left, I picked it up.”

“Wait. You
talked to Wade?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Yes.”

“Why? I
don’t understand?” And it was clear that he didn’t want me to understand.

“I rang
the doorbell and Wade answered.”

“Why were
you at my house?” I didn’t disguise my anger with him. I couldn’t.

“I wanted
to see the people you love. Maybe figure out why you love them.”

“Did you
see Mason?” I hoped he said yes, and I hoped he said no. I didn’t want him
around my son, but I wanted to know if he was okay.

“Yes. He’s
really a very cute baby. Wade isn’t bad looking either. Am I a better lover
than him, Nicole? Be honest.”

This was
one of those questions to which there was no right answer. Either way I went, I
was undoubtedly walking into a trap.

“Nicole?
Am I?”

“You’re
different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“You have
a different style than he does.” I hoped that would satisfy him enough to shut
up about it. The truth was I hated Ron and his touch. When I thought about him
being inside me, I cringed. When I thought of his spunk spilling into me, I
nearly vomited. It disgusted me. I’d never felt that way with Wade.

He didn’t
look as though my answer was the one he wanted to hear, but he did move on to
other things.

“Wade
seems to have moved on.”

“What?”

“Yes, he
didn’t mention you once while I was there. He didn’t cry. Didn’t as much as
sniffle while I was there, which was every bit of half an hour.”