Page 72 of Made for Cyn
“What’s going on with Iris?” He looks me over with a sparkle that makes the hair on my neck stand on end.
Shivering, I glance away because I’m starting to hate his pale blue fucking stare.
“Rain?”
I step around the bed. “What? Nothing?”
At this moment, where I’m sure I’m about to be raped, I’m determined to fight my way through, and if it means I kill the bastard here and now, well, I guess it will solve the damn problem. I refuse to allow him to abuse me sexually. I refuse to be Iris with the life stolen from her eyes, and I will see him go to hell, whether it’s me or fucking Saul who does it.
He must sense my strong emotion because he tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes me. “Everything okay, Rainy?”
“Everything is fine,” I mutter, staring into his eyes defiantly.
With a smirk, he leans against my door and raises a brow. I clench my hands into fists at the arrogant look, hatred coursing through me so wildly that my veins practically burn with it.
“I’m sensing a little discord between us, hmm? Before you get any wild ideas, let me remind you of something.”
“What?”
“Everyone in this town knows that Iris is a whore who will fuck anything with a dick, but me? They love me. I donate money to the animal shelter, attend church faithfully on Sundays and help with bake sales. I stay home and care for my whore stepdaughter while my wife pursues her career, and I assure you, Rain, that if it came down to it, I would win.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, and he chuckles.
“You think you can hurt me? You can’t. You think you can stop me? You can’t. I’m the motherfucking Messiah of this house and what I say goes. Pam, the bitch, doesn’t have a clue, but if either of you so much as step a fucking hair out of line, I will make sure she goes down with me. Do you understand?”
I stare into his evil eyes with a sour stomach. Pam? “No.”
“Well, let me tell you. If you tell anyone, I will make sure everyone knows she’s my fucking accomplice, that she stood by and watched the entire thing happen.”
“No,” I gasp. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“No? Well, I’ve got the evidence that says otherwise, and make no mistake, whether the bitch ever had a fucking clue or not, the pictures will send her to prison for just as long as me. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison, Rain?”
Shaking my head, I stare at him in horror because if what he’s saying is true, we have to find the fucking pictures before we end his miserable existence.
“Let’s just say it’s not pretty. Now, do we have an understanding?”
“Yes,” I whisper, dropping my head when he says, “Good, turn around and bend over the bed.”
???
Once again, John rides the line but doesn’t rape me, and I’m left trembling with relief and fucking hatred when he’s done. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll fuck Saul and any other dick if it means killing John and sparing anyone else from the bastard. But now I have to figure out what to do about the pictures, and I don’t know where to start with the dick here almost twenty-four seven.
Besides, if he has pictures, does that mean he’s got cameras throughout the house, which begs horrifying thoughts of whether he has them in my room or the bathroom.
That night, I lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling, glancing around at the corners of the room, where nothing but white walls greet me. I already searched the entirety of the space and found nothing, but my skin crawls with the thought that he’s watching, that he’s seen me changing or has watched me shower.
I’m not safe here, even locked in my bedroom, and I’m stuck until we see this through.
But the blackmail material continues to pile up, and now I’m afraid for my Aunt Pam, too. What a cluster.
The following morning, I shower with my bra and panties on, shivering with each step as I wash quickly and exit without truly feeling clean. After, I grimly dress before searching out Iris in her room, but she’s not up.
“Iris? We have to go,” I say softly, but she shakes her head.
“I’m not going today,” she mumbles, pulling the blanket over her head.
“But John–”
