The Broken & The Punisher

Chapter 10. "Who are you?"

Continued from chapter 9.

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Theo's POV:-

With the jacket at Mary's waist, she sat up on her elbows and eased the torn shirt the rest of the way off. She tossed the shirt to the floor before reaching behind to unhook her bra.

“No.” I gripped her arm. Her head tilted and her hands rested at her sides. She lay flat on her back and continued to peer at me. I held her gaze for another moment before raking my eyes along her skin. I started at her neck, down past her purple bra that contrasted so beautifully against her skin. As my gaze moved, I tried to memorize each piece of distorted flesh. Some were easily recognizable as burns, others were harder to pinpoint the instrument used in the damage.

When I saw them the first time, I had been shocked. I had still thought of her as the predator, and my mind couldn’t process the evidence showing that I had been wrong. I hadn’t been able to appreciate the beauty of each scar, was only horrified by it. Now, I wanted to feel them, close my eyes as I traced them between patches of smooth skin. It was magnificent. A beautiful masterpiece I craved to be the artist of, but I had never allowed my subjects enough time to heal the wounds I had inflicted into scars.

“Can I touch them?” I asked before I could think through the question. This new part of me didn’t give a sh*t about social norms or manners, it was the darkness without the need for violence or screams.

Mary didn’t answer. It took every bit of restraint to keep my hands on the bed sheets, but I didn’t have to restrain myself for long. Mary’s delicate hand, caked in blood, gripped mine and lifted it from the sheets. Slowly, we moved together toward her until my palm flattened against the icy skin of her waistline.

I closed my eyes as she guided my hand over her stomach. Each time my fingertips grazed a rough patch of skin, I embedded it into my memory, creating a mind map of Mary’s body. My breaths turned from steady to labored, but I didn’t take control of my movements. I allowed Mary to guide me, even when I slipped underneath the silky material of her bra and felt the softness of the swell of her breasts. She didn’t guide my hand further. We paused there, our hands frozen between the petite set of t**s I had drooled over as I had watched her through her window.

'Did she want me to go farther?' I couldn’t be certain. This hadn’t been a s*xual encounter for me thus far. I was far too concentrated on her beauty as an art form to allow such primal urges to take over.

Then something changed.

As the trance faded, my c**k stirred to life and my hand remained in unscarred territory. The normal Theo returned, and as my eyes fluttered open, my morals returned with him.

I slipped my hand from beneath her bra and guided hers to rest on the bed. She didn’t seem to be disappointed, embarrassed, or annoyed. Just curious, always curious.

“I have to go.” I stood from the bed. The way she stared at me, I couldn’t take it. It made my skin crawl.

“Wait,” she called, as soon as my back was to her. I wanted to keep moving, to get as far away from her as I could before I did something stupid—something wrong. So so wrong. As much as my mind wanted to run, my muscles wouldn’t budge. It was strange when I found myself frozen in place, waiting for whatever spell Mary placed on me to be lifted.

“You haven’t done the wrists yet.” Her voice was soft and full. She had no fear of me. She should’ve, but she didn’t. In fact, I think she might’ve been fu*king with me.

Despite my urge to leave, I sat back down on the bed and allowed her to place her hand in mine.

“You never answered my earlier question,” Mary said as I pulled more cotton balls from my kit. I tried to focus on applying the peroxide and dabbing at her wrist, but her stare wouldn’t let me. I wondered if she knew just how penetrating her gaze was. It didn’t feel like I even needed to answer the question, she was already seeing into my soul.

“I don’t understand what you mean by, ‘who am I?’.”

I glanced up to meet her gaze as her head tilted and a small smirk played on her face. “I think you do, but I’ll clarify anyway.” She cleared her throat and sat up on the bed until her face was inches from mine. “Why is it that you’ve got yourself a torture room in your home? What kind of bat sh*t crazy are you Theo? Psychotic? Schizo? What are we talking here?”

I narrowed my eyes and didn’t realize the pressure I put on her wrist until she flinched. It was a small flinch but enough for me to realize my mistake.

I shook my head and went back to cleaning her wound. She was baiting me, and it was my choice either to let her or not. I chose not to.

Until she giggled.

My head snapped her way and a fire ignited beneath my skin. “I’m not crazy,” I gritted. “I’m simply making the world a better place.”

“So you’re like Superman.” She bit her lip as soon as the words were out of her mouth. I assumed it was to keep herself from laughing. 'She thought this was fu*king funny, really? Did she have any idea what I was capable of?'

“You’re the one to talk. Why don’t you start listing off the presidents again and calm the f*ck down.” I said.

“Oh, I’m the one who needs to calm down?” She threw her head back in a laugh.

That fu*king laugh. It echoed in my skull until I snapped. I leaped toward her, covering her mouth with my palm while I situated myself on top of her. Her laughing ceased and, for the first time, I saw fear flash in her eyes. It was brief and shallow, but it was enough to sober me up. At least from my rage. She stilled underneath me and peered at me through those curious green eyes of hers. I sensed the fleeting fear as it drifted above her in a wave, and I inhaled a deep breath as if I could smell it.

I removed my hand from her mouth but didn’t climb off her. My c*ck had hardened and pressed into her thigh.

“Are you going to hurt me, Theo?”

I saw through the facade. She kept her voice light, her lips moving in a way to make the question sound seductive. But those eyes refused to humor the lie. They flashed with fear again.

“No.”

Mary’s brow creased with confusion upon hearing my answer.

“I thought I was going to hurt you,” I said, offering her the explanation that must’ve had her mind preoccupied for hours. “But you aren’t the type of person I target.”

“So then I’m free to go.” She said it as a statement. As if it was the only logical conclusion, and I didn’t have any say in the matter. I had spent the entire day wrestling with that decision, whether or not I should let her leave.

“Why didn’t you call the police when I came for you?”

Her brow creased further, and she wriggled underneath me. “Theo, if we’re going to have a full conversation, could you not be crushing me as we have it.”

I glanced down. Somehow, I’d forgotten I was on top of her. “Sorry.” I rolled off and took my place at the edge of the bed. I took the wrist I had been cleaning and rubbed the ointment around the circle of torn flesh before applying the bandage. She didn’t answer me, but I wasn’t too surprised. It seemed we both preferred to take an enormous amount of time to answer each question. Together, we were an interrogator’s worst nightmare.

“You have a nice smile,” Mary said, pulling me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t realized I had been smiling. I neutralized my expression and didn’t respond.

“I don’t have a phone.”

I raised a brow as I turned to her. Now she had my full attention. “What?”

“I don’t need one. My communication is all online.”

She spoke as if it made complete sense. Maybe it did. I wasn’t fully aware of the daily life of a bat-sh*t-crazy widow, but I literally did not know of a single adult without a phone. What would happen, if say, I don’t know, a man broke into her house and tried to take her? A phone would’ve come in handy then, wouldn’t it?

I shook my head and went back to the wrist.

“Is there some sort of problem with that?” Defensiveness filtered into her tone.

I realized my annoyance wasn’t really justified, but it stuck with me anyway. Some of it even morphed into anger. Not at Mary, but at her husband. What had he done to make her so f*cked up? What was the story behind all those scars? How many times did she scream before she no longer humored him? She had shut down, to a point where I wasn’t sure she even recognized the fear that came in short bursts.

I didn’t know him, but I hated him. I craved the feel of his flesh tearing in my hands. I craved his screams. But I wouldn’t get them. Mary had beat me to it.

I finished with the other wrist, my movements less precise. Too much anger clouded my thoughts for the beauty of the process to take hold. Mary said nothing more, but her stare continued to burn a hole in me.

After bandaging the wrist, I stood and carried the first-aid kit to the bathroom. I placed it in its drawer before storming back into the room. Mary was eyeing the door, probably debating on if now was the right time to run. It was, but she missed her chance. She yelped as I stomped over to her and gripped her hips before pulling her to the edge of the bed.

“Get the fu*k away from me,” she hissed. She clawed at my hands and wiggled in my grasp, but she was no match for me. I must’ve had a hundred pounds on her.

“Don’t struggle.” I dug my fingers into her skin until she stilled. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took, and she turned her face to the side. Is this what she looked like when she was giving up? I didn’t know, and right then I didn’t care. I needed blood. I needed screams. The darkness enveloped me, suffocating me until every cell in my body concentrated on what it wanted.

And it wasn’t Mary.

I threw her over my shoulder and carried her from the room. She kicked and screamed, but I barely registered it. I only needed her out of my way for a short while. I didn’t want to tie her up because she would only damage herself further, but I also couldn’t have her running away. If she went to the police, they could stop me from getting what I wanted, what I needed. I couldn’t allow that to happen, so I took her back to the vault where I knew she couldn’t escape.

I sat her on her feet, and she stumbled backward. Her eyes darted around the room, and she appeared to brace for an attack.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, although my voice was a whisper I could barely register.

I stayed only long enough to make out her expression. Confusion, anxiety, and of course, curiosity. 'My curious little captive.' A rush of control surged through me as I stepped from the vault and shut the door behind me.

The darkness didn’t want her blood, but it enjoyed her company.

It wanted to trace those scars and learn their story. Or maybe it wasn’t the darkness. Maybe it was just me. Either way, I had made up my mind as I hurried into my office and searched for a fitting victim in my scrapbook of options.

I didn’t want to let Mary go. Not yet.

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