“Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be fine given you have what I came for. Do you have it?”
Charlie could barely remember if she’d brought the initial agreement with her. Did she even create one? It seemed so long ago even though she’d left the office forty minutes ago. “Yes, I have it with me.”
“Good. Let’s have it.”
Charlie forced herself to smile and nod. She didn’t want Katherine to be able to gauge anything more than a perceived nervousness. “All right.”
“Good job,” Katherine said. “But, I am still not entirely satisfied. There’s one more thing I want you to do for me.”
“Katherine, I did as you asked. I’m not going to manipulate Declan any further.”
“You’re right about that. We are going to make sure you don’t have anything to do with Declan again.”
Charlie was about to answer her when a set of hands reached out, pulling her further into the living room. “Griffin!” she screamed. He sported a giant bandage across his forehead, and he grinned maniacally, pulling her close to him.
“My sweet slave,” he said, breathing harshly into her ear. “You’ll never see that bastard again. He has it coming to him, after what he’s done to Kat and me.” His gaze raked over her body, and he licked his lips. “As for you, my dear, I do believe I still owe you a punishment, don’t I?”
No. No … Katherine and Griffin together? I want to go back and explain everything to Declan and get out of all this, but it was now impossible.
“First things first,” Griffin said, spinning Charlie around and grabbing something off the table. “Put your hands behind your back, you stupid slut.”
Frightened, Charlie did as he asked. Without a moment’s hesitation, Griffin trapped her arms, wrapping her wrists in duct tape. He shoved her onto the couch. She fell, her face pushed into the cushions. Charlie quietly sobbed into the soft material, not wanting to anger Griffin any further, but he saw her and heard her weeping despite her attempts to quell it.
“What the fuck are you crying for?”
“Why … Why are you doing this?” Charlie asked.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Please. Please tell me what I’ve done,” she whispered.
“I am not going to bargain with you. You’re still my slave, and you will do whatever I want, no matter what it is.”
“Please,” Charlie pleaded once more. “Griffin, I … ” Thoughts battled it out in her mind against the horror she felt. “Sir,” she spoke, coughing out the word. “Please?”
Griffin stared at her, eyes dark and malicious. Rubbing the bandage on his forehead, he groaned. “Enough! Kat, I’m sick of her stupid mouth. It’s time we did something about it.”
Before she could demand to know what he was talking about, pain exploded through her body. She lay face down on the couch, utterly bewildered. And then pain, more pain, agonizing, splintering through her body as he meted out his violent punishment.
Charlie couldn’t breathe right, it hurt too much. She couldn’t even scream. She was going to die.
That thought hit her, and she didn’t fight it. She couldn’t fight against anything as the needle pierced the flesh of her arm, cold liquid scorching her veins, whisking her away to a place inside her mind.
***
“Are you ready?” Griffin shoved a cup to her mouth.
Charlie nodded, swilling the last of the water he gave her to drink in her mouth. She wished it were something more potent. Swallowing, Charlie slowly exhaled, “Ready.”
Griffin positioned her sitting astride the ladder-backed dining chair. He curled her arms and legs around its wooden frame as Katherine restrained her with the duct tape once again. The hard wood offered her no solace, no reassurance, just cold inanimate indifference. Griffin traced his fingers along Charlie’s face, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear where it had escaped from her ponytail. They continued along her jaw before brushing gently across her lips. Griffin leaned in, placing a feather light kiss on her lips before pulling another chair closer, tucking it underneath himself.
Charlie tried to focus on the conversation Katherine and Griffin were having, but her mind was too shattered from whatever drug it was they had injected into her arm earlier. She heard some music playing in the background, closing her eyes she let it wash over her and for a moment, she found some stillness in all the chaos.
***
Blistering cold, ice, and latex on her face knocked her back into reality. Charlie flicked her eyelids open to see the calm concentration on Griffin’s face as he prepared her for what was to come. She struggled a bit against her restraints, the anxiety pulsing through her veins like electricity. “Stop, Griffin. Please!” She was unable to discern if she voiced her objections or if they were prisoners in her mind. It didn’t matter. The rapid, loud drumbeats drowned out whatever response Griffin issued.. Had the music changed? Charlie realized that the overpowering sound was her pulse pounding in her ears.
Griffin slid his gloved fingers into Charlie’s mouth, pulling her top lip away from her teeth. “I think we are ready.” He smiled, pressing his fingertips painfully into her flesh. “My lovely whore. I do think this will work wonders for that mouth of yours. Perhaps you’ll keep your mouth shut from now on.”
The first pass of the needle burned like fire, stealing Charlie’s breath with a gasp. Griffin drew the thread through her flesh with an excruciatingly slow pace.
“Exhale slowly.” Katherine’s voice sounded far away, muffled. Charlie scrunched her eyes closed, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that one of her gel nails peeled away from its bed.
Charlie breathed out tiny little puffs of air that flowed over Griffin’s fingers. They pushed back in her mouth, beginning the second pass of the needle. The pain worsened, spearing, piercing pain radiating out from her bottom lip as it raced along neural pathways to her ears and the hollow of her collarbone. Charlie released a high, nasal squeal, but as the thread passed through her violated flesh, the squeal muted into a mewling whimper.
An odd bubble of laughter wound its way upward through her body, escaping in a hiccup. Memories of catfish and fishing with her father unexpectedly sprang to life. I’m a fish. I’m a bloody catfish. Charlie freed slightly more maniacal giggles before Griffin clamped his hand over her face, pinching her nose, palm pressed into her mouth, crushing angry lips against teeth to focus her attention.
“Calm, girl!” Griffin spat out harshly.
The third pass of the needle came unexpectedly. Outside in, instead of inside out, and it glanced Charlie’s front teeth as it moved, curving through her throbbing lip. The drawing of the thread became barely noticeable as the tears fell slowly, her body began to grow hot and trembled.
Charlie’s mind seemed to open just then, stretching out before her like her favorite stationery store—all sorts of neatly arranged paper—parchment, hand-cut greeting cards, notebooks, pads of exquisite delicate paper as thin as tissue, stationery meant for fountain pens, sturdy cardstock capable of enduring any pen’s torture. Her OCD in reams of writing material. And she wandered. Charlie remained aware of the stabbing, pulling, shooting pain as each stitch pierced her lips.
Words held such a prominent spot in her life. Charlie loved to read, talk, and write. There was always something personal and achingly profound about the words. Words were the commerce Charlie dealt in, in her personal life and professional life. And Griffin worked today to painstakingly remove them from her world. All of them. Her pleasure, her joy, her safety net, her expression, her toolbox—all removed by a madman who had no use for them. Charlie found herself more vulnerable now than she’d ever been before. There were no words that could stop Griffin’s madness.