Sarah Kate - Pretty When She Cries

He was fiddling with an oily car part on the coffee table. “You already did just move around a bit,” he said. “That’s a real pretty dress you got on there, don’t mess it up.”

That night instead of slinking off after he’d finished with her, he simply eased to one side, leaving his arm draped about her waist and she felt his breath against her neck. It was not a comfortable night that she passed. He was practically in the same position the following morning. Only his hand had found its way between her warm thighs and was lodged there. He was sound asleep.

For an insane second she thought of trying to wrap the chain around his neck, or find something to suffocate him. But the reality and the fear of failure kept her frozen next to him, staring at him. When he finally awoke, he gave her a look as if he knew what she’d been thinking. He sat up and rubbed his face and eyes. He took the blanket off her. She was naked from the previous night.

“Are you bleeding yet?” he asked. “Down there. Are you menstruating right now?”

She shook her head. He leaned past her and fumbled with the pregnancy test box. He pulled out a strip. “Go piss on that.”

She did as he told her without question. He stayed with her while waiting for the result. Her mind was a blank. She had no idea how she would react, how he would react, if it came up positive. The box said to wait two minutes for the result. When he saw the results had come up negative he flew into a rage. He grabbed the strip out of her hand and flung it against the wall. He walked around the room, swearing and rubbing his face. He offered to pay her a thousand dollars to have his baby, as if she was somehow deliberately stopping her body from conceiving.

She lost her period altogether, probably from the extreme amount of stress she had undergone, and he made her take the test again in a couple of days.

She knew he wasn’t going to let her go. He intended to keep her prisoner indefinitely. These thoughts were confirmed when he forced her to write a letter to her mother telling her that she had broken up with her boyfriend and was touring until she could get her head straight, and that she would call soon.

“Don’t write your boyfriend’s name,” he said. “I don’t trust you.”

She had little difficulty writing the letter. She knew her family would never believe it, and just to make certain, she wrote in a different handstyle and signed off “Nikkie”, which she would never do.

“I’m going to post the letter from New York,” he said. He dug around in her purse and got out her cell phone. “Call your boyfriend.”

It felt very strange to be calling Cameron. Her stomach was in knots. It seemed a life time ago since she had heard his voice. How could she keep herself from begging him to help her, begging him to come get her? If her mother and he hadn’t had any contact, they might not even know she’s missing. While she dialed with trembling fingers James instructed her what to say. He was holding a kitchen knife. When she put the phone to her ear, waiting for someone to pick up, he put the blade flat on her cheek. “You disobey me—break your promise… ” he whispered, but didn’t finish.

She listened to the ringtone, and small tears began to trickle out of her eyes.

Cameron answered. She heard his voice and she crumbled. Her sobbing was like the chattering of dry leaves. She could hear him saying her name desperately, asking where she was, asking if she was hurt. He kept saying, “Nicole, sweetie, where are you, Nicole answer me!”

She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. So he knew—they knew she was in trouble. They would be looking for her. She was still in Idaho, but she wasn’t sure where, and she knew if she deviated from what she had been instructed to say, James would kill her.

She clutched the phone tightly. “I don’t want to see you any more,” she said in despair. “We never get to see each other anyway!” She didn’t try desperately hard not to cry, because all girls cry when they break up with their boyfriends. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just need time to think,” she managed to say before James snatched the phone from her and shut it off. She sat quietly. She had flipped her hair back, and her bright blue eyes, tears streaming out, were looking right at him.

“You did good!” he said at last and made her flinch.

Speaking to Cameron gave her a small feeling of security, that he would find her.

“Can I put my dress on?” she asked humbly. “The one you bought me?”

“Do whatever you want,” he said, preoccupied. She scooted over the mattress and snatched up the white dress he had dragged off her last night. She slipped it over her head, and sat watching him.

There was a loud knock on the front door. He threw himself on her and covered her mouth. “’Sh-h’,” he whispered. She couldn’t see the front door, but it was just around the corner from the lounge. It took everything she had not to start struggling and screaming. He had her hair wrapped around his fist and his other hand on her mouth.

There was another loud knock, and someone called out, “Jim!”

He suddenly let her go. She didn’t bother screaming, because he evidently knew the man calling. He went to answer the door.

She could hear them talking. In a moment a man poked his head around the corner and looked in at her. Even though she was wearing a dress she felt completely exposed. They both came in and the man stood looking at her with a serious expression, while James grabbed the letter she’d written. He gave it to the other man. They both looked at her as if she was a new piece of equipment.

The guy mumbled something to James, smiling as if it was a joke. Then he went and kneeled on the mattress with her and she froze, hugging herself. He crept toward her. She looked pleadingly at James, somehow expecting him to step in and help her, but he didn’t. She closed her eyes. She sat very still and rigid while the guy took the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and bared her breasts.

“Oh, my fucking God!” he said, half laughing, as if he was dizzy. “Look at these titties.” He squeezed them and sucked them. She was dying with humiliation. He moved up and kissed and licked her neck. The shock of this new, intrusive sensation made her gasp and turn her face aside. She had become almost numb to James’s touch but this was a fresh shock to her already straining nerves.

“Sweet,” he said. He could have kissed her, but he didn’t. It was as if he knew he was only allowed to have a sample. He left her to pull up her own straps. Her throat and breasts were wet with his slobber. Hatred was burning inside her.

“See ya,” said James to the guy on his way out. He was eating a cold sausage leaning in the door way, staring at her. “Don’t look at me all pissy. He’s doing me a favor. I told him he could have a feel.”

She looked away at the wall and stared at it persistently. A touch of fear swept over her as he approached. She kept her face away and wouldn’t make eye contact. He crouched down and she broke and had to look at him.

“I don’t mind sharing my things,” he said. “So long as I know that it’s mine. Are you mine, Nicole?”

She debated within herself whether she should try and coax him, try and get him to start to trust her, or if she should just stay a silent, passive thing.

“I’m yours now,” she said. “That’s why I don’t want anyone touching me, except you.” She was afraid he knew what she was doing, that she had been too obvious, but she kept her gaze steadily fixed on his.

“That’s right, you are fucking mine, whether you like it or not.” He gave her a shove in the head. “You’ll get to love it. You’ll get used to me. Open your mouth, open your mouth!” He stuck his fingers in her mouth, and sawed them in and out, like he would with her pussy. He almost gagged her a few times. “Are you going to stay with me?” he said. “You could go to sleep every night with my come in you. Are you going to stay? Are you going to stay?”