The Forgotten Girl

“Yeah, they talked for a little while. I saw it through the window and then they parted ways and she spent most of the night with either you or clients.” He pauses. “From what I saw, no one seemed suspicious. Including you.”

“You were watching me through the window?” I ask, looking over his shoulder at the window that gives me a great view of the room below.

Get out of here. Now.

He shrugs again, but something in his demeanor changes—grows anxious. “You told me I could watch you that night, so when I wasn’t near you, I studied you from up here.”

I don’t trust him, Lily says.

Neither do I… I want to, but I can’t.

We need a plan. To get you out of here and away from him for a while, at least until you figure some stuff out.

Yes… I guess we do… but how?

Handcuffs, she entices.

Even though it makes me feel sick to my stomach, I decide that it’s time to get the out of here and away from River without him being able to follow me and insist he’s helping me. I need to figure some stuff out before I can go around trusting people. And the route I’m going to take is definitely stemming from my bad girl side—from Lily. I think about the knife and how she convinced me to slit her wrist. Deep down, a small part of me wanted to give into her so easily, just like I’m going to do right now.

“Are you watching me now?” I ask River, gliding my hands up the front of his chest and almost smiling when he shudders under my touch.

“What do you mean?” His voice is raspy as desire blazes in his eyes. “Of course I am. You’re right in front of me.”

“Clever.” I slant toward him and he doesn’t move back.

His eyes flick to my lips. “I know.”

“I’m sure you do,” I say in my most seductive voice then move closer to him. “You sure you want to help me?”

“Positive.” He wets his lips with his tongue.

“Okay then.” I press my lips to his and give him a soft kiss.

I’m not a good girl. I don’t care what they say. This is me. This is all I can be. I can’t fight who I am anymore. I’m a bad girl. I do whatever it takes to protect myself. Be a whore. Be whatever you need to be to survive, otherwise you won’t.

River kisses me for a moment, slipping his tongue deep inside my mouth. He tastes like cherries and smells like rain. It’s delicious and intoxicating, but ends too quickly.

He pulls back, his lips leaving mine. “Maddie, just relax.” He holds me back by the shoulders. “We could go to my place and talk for a little while, if you want.”

That’s the last thing I want to do, go somewhere alone with him. So instead of responding, I slant forward again and taste him deliberately.

“Maddie… we should… talk…” He’s reluctant at first, but then gives in, letting his arms bend and allowing my body closer to his. I kiss him, run my fingers through his hair, while his hands travel all over my body. It feels mind-numbingly good, makes me feel alive at the moment, makes it easier to push away the dirt inside me, the voice that shouts at me I’m being the whore the unknown man always told me I was. I wish it were that easy. That I could kiss him and just enjoy it, instead of worrying if I’m going to snap and kill him.

So that’s what I tell myself to get through this. That I’m doing him a favor by what I’m going to do to him. Protecting him from me. Getting to my feet, I guide him with me, making sure to keep our lips sealed as I back us around the desk, bumping into the corner and knocking over a picture on his desk. I bite at his lip then gently push him into the chair. He gazes up at me, eyes glossy, lips parting to say something. But I silence him by tugging his shirt off and discarding it to the side. My movements are reckless, rough, almost violent and it frightens me so much how I feel inside that I’m shaking. I trace my fingers up his lean muscles covered in tattoos, allowing them to slowly wander to the base of his neck, my fingertips quivering when I feel his erratic pulse. I feel him stiffen and I wonder if he’s afraid of me. But as if answering my silent question, he grabs me by the hips and jerks me forward so I land on his lap. Then he crashes his lips against mine. I slide my hands around his shoulders and to his back, scratching at his flesh, feeling something unravel inside me. I’m not Maddie at the moment. Nor Lily. I’m just a confused person who’s trying to survive the madness. Maybe that’s why I take it as far as I do. I could have just stolen the handcuffs before our clothes came off, but I don’t want to. I want to go further. I want to unfold. Shed my skin and just feel something other than fear for one goddamn moment. I want to become the person that I’m always fighting not to be. So I let him rip my clothes off and I do the same to him. Then he touches me, inside and out, his fingers wander over my ni**les, my thighs, in me while he devours his lips. It feels so wrong, yet right at the same time.

After I explore him, a condom goes on and before I know it, he’s sinking deep inside me. I try not to think about if Lily went this far with him. It’s so f**ked up and I don’t want to think about it—I don’t want to think.

So I don’t.

We rock together in rhythm, driving each other to the edge, fingers delving into each other’s flesh, crying out each other’s names, begging for more. River is as equally rough as me and I start to understand a little, why he might have not cared when Lily hurt him. I think he might like the pain as much as I do. It makes me wonder why. But not for very long because then we’re coming. Together, nails scratching his skin apart, panting, breathless, covered in sweat. It takes me a little while to return to reality and realize what I did. How rough I was. How sickened I am because I liked it, how alarmed and subdued I feel at the moment.

I knew you had it in you. You’re becoming so much like me anymore. Soon you’ll only be me.

She’s right. I do have it in me. The bad. I can admit that now. And it’s terrifying and enthralling. As River’s trying to settle down, I climb off his lap and reach for the drawer, ready to push my bad out some more.

“What are you doing?” he asks, breathless, I pick up a set of handcuffs and the key to them.

His brows knit and his lips part in protest, but before he can do anything, I clip one to a handle on a filing cabinet right by the chair and one to his wrist. At first I think he thinks I want a kinky round two, but when I pick up my skirt and put the keys into my pocket, his amusement turns to alarm.