His Girl

Chapter 12

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As the cab got closer and closer to the house, my sense of dread increased more and more, so much that I was scared I was going to vomit.

"You ok?" The cab driver's eyes met mine in the rear view mirror. "You're shaking."

I nodded and averted my eyes. I hadn't even realized I was shaking. I tried to calm myself down enough to stop. It worked a little.

By the time the car pulled up in front of the house, I was so nervous I was going to pass out in the back seat. Not for the first time, I considered telling the bearded cab driver to just keep driving, to go anywhere, no where. Just, away. Because at this point, I felt like I would rather die on my own than by the hands of Deacon.

I didn't realize that I had been sitting there for a few minutes, contemplating escaping, until the man spoke again.

"You sure you're ok?" He seemed genuinely concerned, but I knew better. I knew not to trust anyone, as innocent as they might seem.

I nodded, quietly thanked him for the cab, and wordlessly stepped out onto the sidewalk. Rubbing my sore wrists, I nervously glanced around. There was only one car in the driveway, but that one car belonged to Deacon. I could forget about slipping in unnoticed. He always seemed to notice me.

I shuffled towards the front door, trying, and failing, to keep my heartrate to a normal pace. Before I could even twist the handle, the door swung open. I jumped back, startled. One of Deacon's goons, a big bulky guy named Eric, smiled smuggly.

"Hey Deacon," he yelled over his shoulder. "Your girl's back."

I paled. They was no way to avoid anyone now.

I heard a deep, monotone voice answer back, "Send her to me."

Eric grabbed me by the front of my shirt and yanked me inside. I stumbled and almost fell, but he reached around me to grab at my chest, pulling my back against his stomach. His hands gripped either breast and squeezed. "You're in a heap of trouble, girl." I closed my eyes, just wanting to escape. He seemed to get even closer as he whispered in my ear, one hand traveling down my stomach, getting closer and closer to where he wanted and I dreaded. "Maybe once he's done punishing you, I'll get a turn. I'd-"

"Now, Emerson."

Eric finally relinquished his hold on me, and I skittered away towards Deacon's office. I might have escaped from a demon, but now I had to face to devil himself.

Wordlessly, I pushed the heavy wooden door open and slid into the room, making sure to keep my eyes on the floor.

"Come here." I shuffled forward around his big desk, still leaving a good bit of distance between him and me. "Closer." I barely moved an inch. He roughly grabbed my sore wrists and yanked me towards him, making we wince from his tight grip on my scratched arms.

My knees collided with Deacon's, our heights almost the same since he was sitting. My mind was racing; I figured he would have snapped or punished me already, but he seemed calm- too calm.

That terrified me more.

"Sit," he said, patting his lap. He showed no emotion as he spoke, only staring straight into my eyes as if he could see my secrets. I bit my lip and hesitated. He had never done something like this before, and my anxiety increased even more. I gingerly sat myself on him sideways, trying to still allow myself space in case I needed to run. My bad was stiff as a rod, and I was practically quivering with fear.