Nelson DeMille - Spencerville

"No!"

"You love it..."

"No! You bastard..." She swung her fist at him, but he caught her by the wrist and slapped her across the face. She rocked back, then slumped on the floor.

He stood. "Get up!"

She buried her face in her hands, curled up into a ball, and began sobbing.

"Get up!"

"Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

Baxter didn't like it when she became hysterical because he couldn't get her to do anything he wanted, couldn't get her to listen to him, so he just had to wait it out.

Annie lay on the floor, curled into a protective ball, her face still buried in her hands. After a few minutes, Baxter said, "If you're through with your bullshit, I'll let you wrap the blanket around you, and I'll let you get something to eat. I'm waitin', but I'm not waitin' much longer before I get the horse whip. Fact, you got ten seconds. Nine." He began counting backward.

Annie uncurled herself on the floor, then slowly got up into a kneeling position again.

"That's good. Listen, darlin', this can be as hard or easy as you want to make it. The quicker you understand that I'm in charge here and that you got to learn to shut your wise mouth, and that you got to do everything I say just like I say it, the easier it's gonna be on you. There ain't no way out for you, sweetheart. You're gonna cook, clean, wash me, suck cock, fuck, and kiss my feet. The better you get at that, the better it is for you. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know, all you Prentis girls has always been stuck-up. You think I don't know you look down on me and my family? Who the hell do you think you are? What I'd really like is to have your bitchy sister here, too. She needs some lessons in cocksucking. Look at me, whore. I'm talkin' to you. How's that sound to you? The two bitches waitin' on me hand and foot with no clothes on..."

"Please, Cliff... I'm not feeling well... I'm going to pass out... I don't want to get pneumonia... I have to have something to eat... I'm going to faint..."

He looked at her closely, then said, "Yeah, we don't want you gettin' sick. I don't want to take care of you. You can't live on suckin' cock, can you? Can you?"

"No."

"Okay, first you get that medical kit and change my bandage. Don't bother to stand, sweetheart. You're a St. Bernard now."

Annie moved on all fours across the room and got the medical kit from a wooden storage chest, then, without him reminding her, she hung the canvas bag around her neck by its strap and went back to where he was now standing beside the sofa.

Baxter lowered his pants and his undershorts, then lay down on the couch.

Annie opened the canvas bag and took out a pair of blunt nose scissors made for cutting surgical tape. She put the lower blade beneath the tape that was wrapped around Baxter's left thigh and cut through it. She noticed that there was still blood on the tape, and when she peeled the gauze away, she saw that the wound wasn't healing properly, but it wasn't infected. She wondered if there was a way she could infect it.

She took alcohol and cotton and washed away the blood around the wound. He winced. She put iodine on the two-inch cut, and this time he let out a small groan. He lifted his thigh, and she ripped off the old bandages, which also caused him pain, then she reapplied fresh gauze and began rewrapping the wound. He never said a word, she noticed, about the wound, or about his eye. His silence on the subject was his way of trying to convince her and himself that everything in the motel room had gone his way. In fact, she knew that Keith had put up a good fight and had almost succeeded in cutting Cliff's femoral artery. At first, she'd almost believed Cliff when he said he'd castrated Keith, but it was obvious, by his unresolved rage, that he hadn't.

She noticed that he had his eyes closed, and she glanced over her shoulder at the end table beside his chair where the holster lay.

He said, "Lookin' for somethin'?"

She turned back to him.

"Now here I am, layin' down with my drawers around my ankles, and you're wonderin' if you can get to that gun belt before I do. Well, darlin', you can. But when you get there, you're gonna be surprised, 'cause..." he drew the pistol out from where he'd stuck it between the cushions."...I got it here." He tapped the barrel on her head and said, "We got a long way to go, don't we? When I'm finished with you, you're gonna go fetch my guns for me and not even think about usin' them on me."

She nodded, but she knew, and he knew, that time would never come. It occurred to her that he enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game; it gave him some amusement during the days and nights. It was important for him to show her he was smarter than she was, or at least more cunning and better able to survive in this world that he'd created. In one way, he wanted to break her, but in another way, he liked her spunk, liked her to present him with challenges. If she broke too easily, or too fast, he might get bored and depressed, then become more sadistic, until finally he'd just end it all for both of them. On the other hand, if she showed too much resistance, or if he believed that she was clever enough to actually get the drop on him, then he'd kill her out of rage, or out of his instinct for self-preservation. This much she'd figured out in the last three days, but she hadn't fine-tuned the balance between spunk and submission. There were moments when she didn't care, when the humiliations were so grotesque that she just wanted to give up. But each time she felt that way, she rallied herself and promised to go on for another hour, then another, until finally he would handcuff her to the bed and let her sleep.

Baxter said, "Wash the Baxter family jewels, darlin'. Use alcohol. I like that."

She poured alcohol onto a gauze pad and washed his genitals.

"Ahh! That feels good. Put some Vaseline on 'em."

She took a tube of petroleum jelly and squeezed it on his penis and testicles, then rubbed it in, noticing he was getting semi-erect, so she stopped.

He said, "You know, I can fuck three times a day. I'd fuck one or two women in a day, then come home and fuck you. How about that? And you thought you was the only one foolin' around."

She never once thought he was faithful, and she didn't know why he thought this revelation was going to hurt her. But his brain was working hard to find things to do to her and say to her that would hurt, humiliate, and cause her to question her own worth and integrity. He thought if he called her bitch, whore, and slut long enough, she'd start to believe it. If he told her he'd castrated Keith, she might believe it. When he told her he wanted to fuck her sister, it did make her angry and anxious. When he used the belt on her, she felt defeated and powerless, but through the agony, she maintained whatever dignity she could, and the beatings strengthened her resolve to keep her sanity.

She said, "Can I get my blanket now and get something to eat?"

"You was naked when I found you in the motel, and you can stay naked." He got off the sofa and pulled up his shorts and trousers.

"Please, Cliff, I'm cold and hungry. I have to go to the bathroom."

"Yeah? Okay, you can stand."

She stood and, without him giving her permission, she wrapped the blanket around her.

"Let's go," he said.

"Can't I go alone?"

"No way, sweetheart. Go on."

She walked past the kitchen, down a short hallway, and turned into the bathroom.

Baxter sat on the rim of the tub, while she sat on the toilet seat and urinated, avoiding his eyes. She wiped herself with tissue paper, stood, and walked back into the hallway, the chain keeping her from taking the long strides she wanted to take. She turned into the kitchen, but he moved past her and stood in front of the refrigerator. He asked her, "What's a whore eat besides strange cocks?"