8
Vincent
My cock has been hard for hours, and even though I keep jerking off, it doesn’t seem to go down. I keep replaying this morning in my mind; when I watched Faith make herself come. Hearing her sweet voice moaning my name when she climaxed has the same effect on me as half a bottle of Viagra. Only there is no hotline for me to call for the erection that lasts more than four hours.
I’m about half an hour away from home when my phone rings, interrupting my train of thought. I’m thankful for the distraction, as I had been mired in self-pity at having to give up on Faith.
Tony’s voice reverberates through my skull, telling me over and over that I’ve been acting distracted. Not doing my work as well. Not hiding my obsession. Christ, it probably meant that Faith had already seen through me, too. She wasn’t stupid. All our interactions so far had only seemed good because I was wearing rose-colored glasses. She knew. She knew I was a creep.
I don’t recognize the number flashing on my car’s LCD display, but the area code is local. My cell line is incredibly secure, so this person must know me. I reach out and tap my phone screen to answer the call. As soon as it connects, the sound of heavy, panicked breathing plays from my car speakers.
“Hello?” I ask, turning the volume knob down slightly.
“Vincent?”
My heart leaps into my throat, and I almost brake in the middle of the highway. It’s Faith. She sounds terrified. Panic has taken over her whole voice, her breath, her mind. Immediately, I put more pressure on the gas, pushing seventy.
Just when I swore off her for good…
“Faith?” I say in a low voice, not sure that my phone even picks it up.
“Vincent, I need your help,” she whimpers. “You said to call you if I need anything, and I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Of course. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s a man here. My mom—” she chokes on the words, letting out a hushed sob. My whole chest lights with fire as I realize she’s in danger. That whore Margaret has put her in danger.
“I’m scared…” Her words hit me like a semi-truck leaving behind a deep ache in my chest.
All I want to do is wrap her in my arms and keep her sheltered from everything that could ever scare her. I have to save her. Then I’ll let go. This is the last time, I swear. Faith lets out another keening cry, and my jaw clamps shut.
“I’m on my way, Faith. I promise. It’ll be okay.”
She sniffles, taking in a sharp breath. I can hear raucous laughter behind her, and my blood boils. How dare Margaret laugh when her own daughter is scared out of her mind. How dare she. I nearly stomp on the brakes as my speedometer passes seventy-five, eighty, eighty-two…
“My mom owes him a lot of money, and he said he’s going to…he’s gonna come into my room—” her voice breaks, and she sobs again, then shushes me. “They’re upstairs, don’t talk,” she whispers.
I can hear a knock at her door, and Faith takes a breath to steady herself. She hiccups slightly. Every single muscle in my body is as tight as a stretched rubber band. I have tunnel vision now, I only see enough to know that I don’t hit anyone, and no cops chase me. As I listen in, I am overcome with primal, beastly rage. Only God knows how fast I’m driving.
“Faith,” Margaret’s voice calls, faint on the call. But rage has made my hearing supernatural, and every syllable is clear to me. “Are there any more cookies?”
She’s slurring. Drunk as hell. My inner narrative alights.
Whore bitch cunt asshole deviant washed-up prom queen slut.
“I don’t know, Mom,” Faith calls back, just barely holding her voice level. I’m almost to the exit. I’m almost there. I flash my eyes down to the speedometer and realize I’m nearly at a hundred MPH. I take a deep breath and release the gas, letting myself fall back to seventy. Thankfully, the roads are mostly clear today. Most people are staying home.
Margaret mutters something indistinct, then there’s a few moments of silence. I hear rustling as I make it back into town, and Faith picks the phone up.
“Please, help me, Vincent. He’s going to hurt me.”
“Don’t worry, Faith. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
She sniffles again, and through the rage, I feel a soft tendril of love. The instinct to protect and nurture. Maybe the best way to protect Faith is by keeping her with me.
“Thank you, Vincent,” she says. “Are you almost here?”
“Five minutes, darling. Then I’ll take you somewhere safe. Pack anything you desperately need right now. I’ll buy you everything else.”