Since sensationalized news always sold best, reporters and journalists had gleefully expounded on the grisly details of the cult's activities and, later on, its downfall. There was a lot of debate about exactly how many deaths the cult was directly responsible for, and when it was revealed to the world that the cult's leader had been a woman herself, the debates had gotten even more heated. Some believed her crimes were more atrocious because she was a woman. Others believed she had to be forgiven, that being raped herself had broken her beyond repair.
The only thing everyone agreed on was how the cult, which had amassed great power over the years with the help of its wealthiest members, would never have been exposed, much less destroyed, if law enforcement had not found someone willing to work with them from the inside.
And that someone, much to everyone's shock, had been none other than the cult leader's "prophesied" heir. A mere fifteen-year-old boy, but one who was smart enough to get himself arrested in order to have a chance to speak with the police about the cult. Two years later, he had killed his own mother, and with it the walls of Hell had finally fallen.
A lot of lives had been saved that day, at the expense of a boy's soul, and to this day, his identity had never been disclosed.
MY KIDNAPPER'S EYES gleam with approval when I present myself as ordered, and with even a minute to spare. I've tied my hair up with a floral handkerchief, and I've matched my sunflower dress with a pair of jute leather sandals. I know it's ridiculous, but it feels like I'm dressing up for a first date.
"You have good taste, my dove."
I wrinkle my nose at him, mostly just to hide my embarrassment. "I should be the one saying that to you, I think." All of the cabinets and drawers in the en-suite are packed with new stuff, and what I've seen so far is exceedingly pretty...as well as pretty expensive, if the brand labels are anything to go by.
"Mm." My kidnapper clearly hasn't interest in saying anything else about the subject, and I'm still scared enough of him not to push.
We have brunch at the outdoor dining area, with me seated at his right and obediently saying yes every time he asks me to try this and that. A part of me is still not over the fact that he's that boy, and it has my gaze darting to him every so often.
While I still can't remember when exactly it happened, I remember enough to place his age in the mid-twenties. Still young, but he doesn't feel or look like it at all, and when I think about why that is...
A memory unveils itself out of nowhere, and what it reveals breaks my heart. I've remembered something else about my kidnapper, and it makes my heart ache. It makes me want to cry. Enough that I do find myself fighting back tears eventually—-
"You truly take the cake, my dove," my kidnapper says with a sigh, and I'm not sure why, but as soon as I hear his voice, the tears simply start to fall.
He pulls me into his lap, and it gets worse. I start crying in earnest, my tears soaking his chest, but my kidnapper only sighs again when I choke out an apology. "I'm sorry. I never used to cry this much."
"Unfortunately, that makes us even, since I never even laughed at all before meeting you."
I know he's just teasing me, but it only makes me cry even harder.
"It's because I remember," I tell him shakily in a voice that's muffled by his hard chest. "One of the women who survived...I remember what she said..."
"It's all in the past," he says quietly.
"She tortured you, too. She had two women raped for every woman you refused to rape. She—-"
"Enough, my dove."
His voice is still gentle, but it's also that tone again, and I take deep gulps of breath in an attempt to regain control of myself. Attempt being the operative word but when it becomes obvious I'm unable to control my tears, I hear my kidnapper sigh, and it's the only warning I get before his fingers take a rough grip of my hair.
He yanks my head back all of a sudden, and his mouth forcefully takes my mine in a kiss the moment my lips part in surprise. His tongue shoves deep into my mouth, and every stroke burns. My tears dry as the heat of his kiss engulfs my senses, and when he starts sucking on my tongue ravenously, I am completely lost. My arms wrap helplessly around his neck as I moan against his lips, and I can only moan some more as his mouth grinds down harder on mine.