Miller stops and moves to my backside to remove my blindfold, the untying taking entirely too long.
But once my vision is freed from its confines, I consider putting it back on.
I suck in a short breath and take in the man tied to the chair, the one who looks like someone I used to know, only older, ragged, worn down—aging having done nothing to preserve the features I once thought were attractive. The features that lured me in with a false promise of safety and stole my innocence.
His head is slumped, his arms tied behind him, his legs secured to the chair.
"Is he?" I whisper unsure if this man's fate has already been sealed.
Miller steps to my side and crosses his arms. "No, of course not. I wouldn't deprive you of that satisfaction."
I swallow and hug my chest, suddenly cold and entirely too insecure about the shirt I'm wearing. Is it too revealing? Am I asking for something to happen? But I know the answer to that, so I shake my head and rid myself of those intrusive thoughts.
"Wake him up," I tell Miller and move a little closer.
Miller complies with a smile on his face, quickly going to action and putting smelling salts under my assaulter's nose.
He snaps to life, frantic at first, his sights scanning the place, his chest heaving, until he settles on me.
"Hello, Jerry," I mutter, stalking toward him but not too close.
Jerry blinks a few times and I consider slicing his eyelids off to prevent him from shielding himself from what's going to happen next.
"Co-Cora?" he blurts out. "Wh-what's happening?"
Miller stays near me, his presence like a warm blanket keeping me safe.
I don't answer him, instead, I stalk over to the tray full of torture devices and contemplate my options. I could cut him, stab him, rip his fingernails off, beat him, electrocute him...the possibilities are endless, and yet none of them seem good enough for what he did to me, what he took from me. And would doing any of those things actually make me feel any better, or will they reduce me to being no better than him—my rapist?
Miller places his hand on the small of my back and leans in close. "You can take your time, Cora. Whatever you want. However long it takes."
I chew at my lip and reach for the gun sitting on the tray, the grip cold and hard.
"Come on, Cora. Talk to me, tell me what's going on." Jerry rocks his body and tries to free himself. "There must be some misunderstanding. There's no need for this. What would your dad think?"
Taking the gun in my grasp, I turn and march toward him. "My dad? You mean the man who is no better than you? The one who failed to keep me safe?" I rock my head slowly. "Not from you, not from this world."
Jerry laughs. "Is that what this is all about? All those years ago? C'mon, Cora. Don't act like you didn't want that, too."
"You realize I'm holding the weapon, right?" I point the barrel at him but keep my finger off the trigger.
Jerry jerks but remains rooted in place, the ties holding him there not budging. "Cora, baby, relax. I was drunk, you were a tease, that's the end of it. I don't know what you think happened..."
"What Ithinkhappened?" I dart in front of him, shove the tip of the gun into his temple and hold his shoulder with my other hand to steady him. "You don't remember holding me down, pinning me under the bleachers? You don't remember me telling you no, begging you to stop and fighting you? You don't remember my cries for help or the blood that coated your dick after you fucking violated me?" I drag the gun down and pop the barrel into his mouth, chipping at least one of his teeth with the force. "I should fucking blow your brains out right now."
He mumbles against the gun and his eyes remain so wide that this image of him will forever stay in my head. Instead of him on top of me,thisis what I'll remember—him, helpless, pissing his pants in fear of the girl he assaulted.
I shove the gun forward with force and remove it, watching as he coughs and fights to catch his breath. "You're a pathetic waste of oxygen."
"You-you don't understand," he blubbers. "I have a wife, a child, you can't do this."
"Iwas a child," I yell at him. "And I trusted you. My parents trusted you."
"I'm not that man anymore, Cora. I'm s-sorry." Tears fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks. "I hate what I did to you, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I'm a sick fuck, that I regret doing what I did to you?"
"Say it," I tell him through gritted teeth.
He furrows his brows. "Say what?"
