Emmet feared failure.
Andy had a severe gluten allergy.
Amber had a fear of getting old.
Jesse was claustrophobic and had a peanut allergy.
Kaylee was allergic to cats and wheatgrass.
Sam had serious commitment issues and was a serial adulterer.
Jerald spent an exorbitant amount of money on penis enlargement products and had even consulted a surgeon.
Jerome was an alcoholic and addicted to heroin.
Alicia had body image issues and feared gaining weight.
Wyatt was also diabetic and had an allergy to bananas.
All of them. They had something to fear. Something to lose. Something to be exploited. I knew it all. I knew their spouses, their kids, their finances, their desires, their dreams…
I had even saved Jerome’s life when he’d overdosed and got him into a rehab program. So far, he had not relapsed and was making something of his life. Good. He did not get to end his own life by putting a needle in his arm. He owed me the right to end him.
I was in all of their lives without them even knowing it. I was the ghost that haunted their very existences. I never did anything to make myself known, though I couldn’t stop certain mischievousness. Nothing that would cause them permanent harm or death.
They would not get off that easy.
Age 25
On the tenthanniversary of my attack, Jason took me to a sex club. One might think that odd of my father-figure, but it was actually done at my request. Though revenge was my ultimate goal, I had tried dating over the years. All of which had come to an utter and complete disaster whenever he, my date, tried to touch me. Even innocent touches would trigger me.
A kiss, trying to hold my hand, lightly brushing my arm… It didn’t matter. I would panic and the date would be over.
The only exception was the one time Jason had followed me on a date. I knew he was there, watching from afar. I didn’t need his protection; he was there to protect my date from me should I panic and attack him. I’d nearly killed my last date when he’d tried to kiss me and had ended up leaving his unconscious body in a dumpster.
On the date Jason shadowed me on, I enjoyed myself. I had a good time being…normal. I had even allowed the guy to kiss me. It had all gone downhill, though, when he’d cupped my sex without me expecting it. Were men so forward on dates that he believed it wasokayto grab my crotch without my permission?
That guy Ihadkilled. I placed him in a reverse chokehold and snapped his neck before he’d even had a chance to shout out in surprise.
That was the last date I ever went on. However, dating aside, I was a woman. I had urges and the brutality of my attack had not taken away those needs. Generally, I took care of it myself. I’d learned early on that I enjoyed orgasms by clitoral stimulation with no penetration. Jason and I were very open about our sexual needs with each other. Neither of us found the topic of sex embarrassing, nor did we judge the other for their needs.
I certainly had walked in on Jason in some precarious situations over the years. He was careful not to show some of his darker needs, like using bondage on a sexual partner, around me. But I’d walked in on him balls-deep in both men and women over the years. While the bunker was our home, we’d lived all throughout the United States and even Canada over the past eight years as I expanded my training and learned about the lives of my victims.
When I told Jason that I wanted to try penetrative sex, there wasn’t even the consideration that he would be the one to penetrate me. That wasn’t our dynamic and it never would be.
Jason suggested trying to penetrate myself with my fingers prior to trying a toy or actual penis. The experience had not been a success as far as achieving orgasm, but it had been in that I did not panic when I inserted my fingers into my vagina.
I’d started off small. Like when someone is trying to train their sphincter for anal play, they start off with very small butt plugs and eventually work their way up to larger sizes. Jason purchased me very small dildos for me to start out with. Over time, I was able to insert phallic shapes of normal width and length.
When I thought I was ready, Jason took me to a sex club he frequented.
I did not end up having sex that night—but it wasn’t due to a reaction to having a man touch me or even discovering that I enjoyed being submissive during sex. No, it was because something beautiful caught my eye and I was mesmerized.
I knew what pole dancing was but had always attributed it to strippers, as I’m sure most people do. I had failed to see the beauty beyond the eroticism. I saw it now. Iwantedit.
That night, Jason installed a pole in the bunker and I discovered my love of pole dancing. I was by no means an expert overnight. But through many trials and errors, and a lot of bruises and several broken bones, I learned to dance.
Dancing took me out of my head in a way that no other activity in the last decade had done for me. I was able to lose myself in the music and the movement and simply…be. I was not training, I was not fighting, I was not spying. There was just me, the music, and the pole.
