“Alrighty, then. Sofiaah,” he said, and the way he drew out the last vowel was his way of telling me he didn't believe it.
He cupped his hand underneath my head, lifting it from the pillow, and held the glass of water an inch from my lips. Then drew it back. “You're lying.”
I kept my eyes locked on his. Tried to fathom the kind of thoughts that were spinning around his wicked, twisted mind. His eyes were so green, and at this close proximity, I could see little flecks of amber next to the pupils. I began to count them, those flecks, keeping my brain focused and my stare unwavering.
Maddox expelled a little burst of air through his nostrils, and shook his head. “But, we'll go with that. For now.”
He touched the rim of the glass to my bottom lip and tipped it up, just enough for a teaspoon's worth to find its way to my mouth. It was cool, and delicious, and coated my throat in sweet relief. I ached for more. Yearned for it, wanted to demand it.
Maddox put the water back on the nightstand.
“Now, for the sixty four thousand dollar question. What was the deal with the gun?”
Twelve flecks. And it looked like he shaved his head on a daily basis. Or had someone do it for him.
“Aw, Sofeee. Seriously? You're not going to tell me?”
It bothered him more than he was letting on. Body language is a dead giveaway, and the way he was pulling at his slacks was giving me a definite insight into what ticked him off. Lack of compliance was close to the top of that list.
“Someone hired you. That's it, isn't it?”
Those pants were expensive. This asshole spends more on a pair of khakis than most people spend on a week's worth of groceries. If that didn’t make him enough of an asshole, I could think of a thousand other things that did.
“Yeah. Yeah, that's it. But who? That's the real question.” He laughed, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Ah, shit, I thought. For a second there I'd thought he'd lost interest. Next would come the belt, then his stupid khakis...
He was still laughing when he took his shirt off, revealing a bare, rock hard chest that he probably shaved, too.
“Whoever hired you, I don't think they got their money's worth, Sofee. Not to be the bearer of bad news or anything, but you kinda suck as an assassin.”
You suck as a human being.
“I'd be pissed if I was them. Hope they didn't spend a whole lot of money for your… services.”
Maddox kicked off his shoes, and as I'd expected, the pants were next to go. He wore silk boxers. Red, and shiny. Is anyone surprised? I certainly am not.
“You're harmless, Sofee. A harmless little flea on the dog's ass of life.”
He crawled into bed, and sidled up next to me. He took my breast in his hand, and squeezed. Not hard. But with the pressure one would use to hold a bird without crushing it. Or letting it go.
I made up my mind that I wouldn't move; that I would not struggle. That would just make him happy and that was the last thing this man would be, if I still had anything to say about it.
He leaned down and parted his lips, taking my nipple in his mouth, and sucking on it. His tongue rolled over against it, flicking it rapidly, then easing back to suckle again.
I stared at the ceiling, at that camera. Was he recording this? The red light wasn't on. He was certainly the type of game-playing asshole that would, and when his other hand grabbed my other breast, his fingers mimicking the same motions of his tongue, I caught my breath.
“...yeah, she likes that,” he whispered.
I threw my head back, and screamed. My entire body went rigid, as if I were having a seizure.
Maddox flew off of me like I'd set him on fire.
“What?” he shouted.
The guttural, horrific shrieking was more than my throat could take, but there was no stopping it. Screeching, and thrashing as much as the restraints would allow, I bellowed; “C-c-cramp!” and bit down on my tongue.
“Jesus, Jesus Christ, where?” he looked shocked.
Maddox didn't do scared, I didn't think, but shocked could be in his emotional repertoire, I was pretty sure.
I screamed again, the tears starting to come hot and full force.
“...leg...” I whimpered, the sorrowful tone of a bear cub caught in a trap. Then I screamed from the top of my lungs once more.
He jumped, that time. And scrambled to the foot of the bed, his hands fumbling to untie the silk scarves Frick and Frack used to bind me to the shackles.
The screams wouldn't stop, they couldn't stop, and the more he couldn't untie the knots, the more I groaned in pure, terrible anguish.
Tears streamed down my face, and I'd bitten my tongue so hard it had started to bleed. Saliva mixed with that taste of copper. A line of pale, ruddy spittle ran from the corner of my mouth. For all intents and purposes, it appeared as though I was in the middle of a severe, epileptic fit.
“Fuck, shit, fuck!” Maddox cursed, and finally, finally, the silk fell from my right leg. A few agonizing moments later, my left leg was also freed.
My leg was numb from the hips down, the muscles all but locked, from being in tied up for so long. It took the greatest of efforts for me to bend my knees, twist awkwardly to the side, and lay in a half fetal position as I gasped, and tried to catch my breath, and wished I hadn't screamed so loud.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Maddox shouted, running his hands across his scalp. “Oh, my God. Oh, my fucking hell…”
I hitched in breath after haggard breath. The foam of blood and spit coated my lips, and formed
