Page 121 of Commit
He seemed content to arrange and rearrange his tools for the last hour, but now his attention is on me.
“Time for the next phase.”
He takes a pair of sharp scissors and begins cutting my yoga pants from my body. I try to struggle, but being cuffed to the bed limits what I can do. Once he has my pants off, he removes my socks and sneakers and then cuts through my panties, leaving me completely exposed.
Oh God, please, no. I whimper and thrash, but he grabs a scalpel and sits between my legs. I freeze when his hand brushes over my scars. He brings the scalpel to my inner thigh and starts cutting.
Not being able to scream is the worst. I feel my whole body start to shake, which brings with it a whole new wave of terror.
“There, perfect. Now for the fun part.”
He reaches for the needle and thread.
I shake my head and buck my hips, but he presses his large hand against my stomach and holds me down.
“Stop being dramatic,” he scolds me as he brings the needle to the left side of my labia and pierces it.
My eyes fill with tears as I feel the thread being pulled through.
“This is a lesson. Men won’t respect you if you don’t keep your legs closed. Not that I should expect anything different. Once a whore, always a whore. I?—”
He stops talking and cocks his head like he hears something.
“Looks like our timeline’s moved up. We’ll save this for another day.”
He grabs the key to the handcuffs and unlocks my ankles first, followed by my wrists, but keeps the rope tied around them. “Try anything, and I will use this scalpel to cut off your eyelids.” He yanks me to my feet and drags me out of the room and up a few stairs to the deck. “Now sit there and don’t move.”
I look around for something I can use as a weapon. But I can’t see anything, not that it would be much use with my hands still tied. I look over the boat’s edge into the dark water and shiver. I promise myself that if I get out of this alive, I’ll take swimming lessons.
The sound of whistling grabs my attention as the gas mask guy drops a body on the deck beside me. I can’t see their face, but the huge hole in the back of their head tells me they’re dead. I watch helplessly as he ties a piece of rope around the dead guy’s waist, then secures the other end around my ankle. He hefts the body over the side of the boat and tosses it into the water.
It takes a moment for my leg to be yanked painfully against the metal railing.
“That should stop you from running.” He points back to the shore, and a house all lit up in the distance. “Once he realizes it’s empty, he’ll come this way. And I’ll be ready for him. All you have to do is stand there, look pretty, and maybe spread your legs a bit. I want him to see my handiwork.”
Jesus, fuck, this can’t be happening. Of all the fucked-up ways I dreamt of dying, this was not one of them.
I hear shouting from the shore, and I pray it’s not Hudson, even though I know it is. I can always feel him when he’s close by.
The masked guy disappears again, but all I can focus on is the house in the distance.
“Starling?”
I whip my head around and find Landon creeping around the side of the boat. A cut on his forehead, blood oozing down his face.
He sees my face and goes pale. “I’m going to get you out of here. Let me just find something to cut the rope with.”
He’s gone in the next breath, leaving me alone again. My leg aches. I lean down and try to loosen the rope, but I can barely feel my fingers.
At the sound of footsteps, I look up and see Landon running back with a knife in his hand.
“There’s a boat getting ready to board. We have to hurry.” He bends down and reaches for the rope.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone climb over the railing. Hudson. I whimper as Landon looks up at me.
“There, there. The worst is over with for now.”
My blood freezes with those words—the exact words the masked man said to me. As Hudson approaches, Landon grins and turns toward him.