16. Aurora

Idon't know why, but a part of me thought my stranger would come to me last night and tell me his note was a joke. Not a funny one but still. He didn't though.

I left my balcony door unlocked just in case and the only hint I have that he was in my room is a small carved pumpkin on my night stand that wasn't there last night. My bedroom door was locked just in case my parents tried to check in on me while he was here, so it couldn't have been them.

I sit up in bed and look at the pumpkin to see it's not the only thing he left for me. A bat flower lays on the desk next to the pumpkin and my heart catches in my throat. It's a shimmering blackish purple. It's a type of orchid that doesn't grow in the area, but it's always been my favorite flower, probably because of how spooky it is. With long whisker-like strands and ear-shaped petals surrounding the smaller hydrangea shaped flowers, it's easy to see how it got its name.

How did he get one? How did he know it"s my favorite or did he just take a wild guess?

Picking up the flower, I bring it to my nose to smell it. I've always wondered what they smell like.

I breathe in and have to suddenly pull it away from my face with eyes wide before I let out a loud cough. It smells like…a rotting corpse. It's rather fitting, but also maybe this is why he chose it. Is this a threat or a symbol of how well our dark souls would mingle together? I have no fucking clue.

I put the flower back on my bedside table and stare at the blank wall in front of me, trying to wrap my brain around everything. If he really is Damien King, why the fuck am I still alive? I've been alone with him a few times. Hell, he nearly fucked me into a coma twice and other than my pussy being swollen and bleeding the first time, he hasn't injured me at all. He's been gentle and sweet, except when his cock is inside me. Then, he becomes a wild fucking animal.

Then, there's the note. On the outside, he addressed it to Trixie. Either, he thinks I'm her or he thinks I know her and the note wasn't even meant for me. I'm not her, but I never actually told him my name, so how would he know?

There's no way though. He can't be Damien King. He just can't. Maybe I'm delusional, but I just can't picture the man who danced the night away with me being the same person who has probably killed over thirty people by now. I know Calvin is dead, but I don't know if Tiffany, Jessica, or Mandy are. There could be more dead and us not realize it.

He's older than he was back when he started killing. He has to be smarter. He is probably hiding a lot of his kills and only making the ones he wants the world to know about public.

I take a deep breath to clear my mind before pushing off my blanket. I almost scream at what I see.

My bare legs are covered in dried blood, handprints covering my thighs. I slam my hand over my mouth to stop myself from making a noise.

If this is a fucking joke, it's not funny.

Reaching my hand down, I scratch at it and it flakes off. It could be paint colored to look like dried blood. Yeah, that has to be it.

It's all an elaborate prank. I swear, if he is trying to freak me out, I'm going to cut off his oversized penis and chuck it in the fireplace. This isn't cool at all.

I jump out of bed and run to the shower. I don't even remove my underwear or my cami before I jump in and turn on the water. The cold spray hits me and I try to rub off the maroon spots. I expect it to flake or peel off like paint, but it doesn't. The markings rehydrate and a trail of pink tinted water falls down my legs, like blood.

Is this him giving me a warning? Today is Halloween. Am I on his hit list somehow?

I start hyperventilating as I rub at what I can only assume now is real blood. Once it"s gone, I grab my bar of soap and start scrubbing until the pink tint to my skin is gone.

I've always been told I'm paranoid and maybe that's what I'm being now, but for the first time, I'm scared of Damien King and whatever he has planned for me. I don't want to die, but I also don't want him to want to kill me.

No matter how dark and twisted it is, I want him to want me. I want him to crave me like I've always wanted to be desired. I want to be the final girl, the one in horror movies that make it out alive and become an obsession for the killer to finally get. However, in my head, the horror movie ends differently. It ends with him taking me away from this town and being content just having me.

That's unlikely though. He's probably plotting the way he's going to kill me as we speak. What he did to Calvin was brutal and I have no idea why he did it. I still believe he always has a reason, but I don't know what it is.

I nearly jump out of my skin when a figure stands outside the shower and I throw open the door.

I nearly shit myself when a masked figure stands in the doorway, the purge LED mask is cloaked by his hoodie and his clothes are covered in blood and the knife in his hand drips it all over the white tile floor. My heart lodges in my throat as I hide behind the shower door. Like that is going to save me.

He just killed someone and came straight here afterward. The way he raggedly breathes puts me on edge and yet my cunt drips my desire down my thigh. I'm so fucked that I'm pretty sure he's about to kill me and my clit vibrates with its need for him.

"Da-da-Damien?" I ask as I try to think of some form of escape, but there is none. There is only one exit and he has it blocked.

He gives me a single nod before he steps closer to me, but I cower with fear. He stops and tilts his head, like he has no idea what I'm scared of.

"Are you going to kill me?" I sound like a meek little mouse. My voice even squeaks as I tremble.

Am I really destined to be like Sidney from Scream? Is the guy I gave my virginity to trying to kill me?

He groans before he shakes his head.

"Isn"t that what you would say if you were trying to kill me?" I snap, but the one thing I didn't expect was for him to laugh. The mask shakes on his face before he drops the knife into the sink. I back up quickly as he steps into the shower fully clothed and reaches up to pull off his mask, but I grab his wrist, stopping him. His movement halts and he tilts his head again as I drag down the zipper of his hoodie, exposing his bare chest below. He's covered in tattoos, much like I am, but mine are all small symbols of things I found to be significant, like a box of graham crackers or a clown face. His are all random designs that blend together perfectly.

I trail soft kisses down his chest as I move to my knees in front of him and work at his belt. He shrugs out of his jacket and it falls to the floor in a heap as I trail my tongue along the line of hair leading into his pants.

He grips my hair hard and yanks my head back to look up at him with a loud moan falling from my lips. I desperately need to be fucked and I think he does, too.

He shoves down his pants until his dick springs out and slaps my breasts from how hard he is. I moan from the impact as he grabs my arms and crosses them behind my head, holding me exactly how he wants me. He pushes his cock into my waiting mouth and the groan he releases makes me even more slick between my legs. However, my mouth was not built to fit around his monstrous shaft. My lips feel like they're going to split open before he even touches my tongue and when he forces his way into my throat, I lose all ability to breathe. Still, he fucks my face with the same passion he does my pussy, digging his fingers into my wrists. The way he has my arms behind my head stabilizes my neck so he can keep fucking me after I die from asphyxiation. Drool runs down my chin as my eyes water from the lack of oxygen. My skin heats and yet I'm still turned on by all of this.

He grunts and groans with each thrust until he's had enough and pulls out. Without warning, he comes all over my face and neck and some even lands on my tits.

Releasing my arms, he grabs my hair and pulls me back to my feet before running his fingers over my bottom lip. I gasp heavily to catch my breath before I take his blood-soaked thumb into my mouth. I suck every drop from his digit and metallic liquid tastes so good on his skin.

He growls before pushing my back against the shower wall, towering over me. The mask glares down at me as his thumb pops free from my lips and I whimper for more of him.

"Damien," I moan as he takes his finger still covered in blood and draws on my chest a pattern that I can't decipher without breaking my staring with his mask. My head drops and I recognize the symbol of a skull and crossbones written in blood.

In his note, he called me his pretty little dead girl.

I know instantly why he wrote that and excitement courses through me as I nod enthusiastically.

He strips off the rest of his clothes except for the mask before shutting off the shower. My core weeps as he lifts me into his arms and carries me back to my room before tossing me on the bed, flipping me over onto my stomach. Without any instruction, I let my body go limp, completely lacking all life, as he moves over me. He runs his fingers over my vulnerable body before grabbing my ass in his hands, rubbing his slowly hardening cock against my slippery cunt. I swear, I'll probably come the second he's inside me. Goddamn I'm wound so tight.

I stay silent, barely even breathing as he adjusts my positions and uses his thighs to hold me in place as he presses inside my spasming cunt. It's so hard not to scream or even moan as he rams his cock deeper into me before slapping his hand against my ass. Grabbing the fronts of my thighs, he thrusts harder, faster, deeper with each move, sexy as fuck grunts coming from his lips.

My insides convulse again and again, timed perfectly with every unyielding thrust he delivers until I can't hold back anymore and I press my face into the blanket and scream as my release soaks him. It feels so good I can barely hold onto my sanity.

He pulls out and he flips me over before slapping my pussy then slips three fingers inside me. I hope to god my parents are gone because the way he's making me feel is impossible to control.

He removes his fingers before thrusting back into me. Wrapping them around my neck, he pins me down as he fucks me and my head spins.

* * *

After he fuckedme within an inch of my life, I checked my phone to find that school has been canceled for the day and a city wide curfew has been put in place until further notice. After five, everyone is expected to be in doors and to lock themselves in. No movement at all, period.

I try to call my mom and my dad since both of their cars are still here, but I get no answer in the house or on their phones. My dad wasn't happy that my mom gave me back my phone, but we were both done with his bullshit.

However, when I go to my call list, I see I have a missed call from my mom. With a hum from me, I click on the voicemail she left and put the phone to my ear.

"Aurora, dear, I know you're probably asleep and your door is locked, but we need to talk. Your father wouldn't agree with this, but you're everything to me. I can't risk your safety any longer."

My breath catches in my throat with anticipation for what this could be about.

"You're right. We have been keeping secrets from you. I'm so sorry. Your dad thought it was in your best interest that you never know the truth. He said it would cause damage to your mental health and I just wanted what was best for you. I thought by hiding the truth about where you came from that we were protecting you." She takes a deep breath and my heart seizes at the next words that she says. "Dear, you were adopted. Your dad and I tried to have children on our own, but I had fertility issues. When the Halloween murders happened and the Rothchild family said they'd have to give you up for adoption because they couldn't take care of you and work the jobs they had, it seemed like a blessing. I suggested that we take you, but your dad…he thought the only way you would be safe is if we took the steps to make sure you couldn't be traced back to that horrible night. He was so afraid of what Damien King would do to you if he ever got out. We had every record of Bellatrix Rothchild expunged from everything. You weren't even mentioned during the trial. That's why he wrote that name all over the wall of his cell, the Clark home, and on Mr. Daily's table on Main Street. He's looking for you. He used to call you Trixie. He's come back to finish what he started fourteen years ago. You were the only one who made it out of that house alive. As soon as you wake up, you need to pack a bag, get in my car, and drive as fast and as far as you can. He's getting too close. You have to run before he finds out who you are." My fingers shake as I turn around and watch as Damien walks down the stairs fully clothed in his freshly washed clothes, except for his mask. He tilts his head at me, questions in his eyes, and honestly, I have no idea what to say. I'm in shock.

Do I think he wants to hurt me? Not anymore, I don't, but my mom does. She thinks I'm in danger and she's been holding this in. It's been a stupid, misguided notion. I wouldn't have cared if she told me the truth, but I'm so pissed because they tried to make me feel like I was crazy.

I wasn't crazy.

I was told stories growing up of me in my mom's belly and of her giving birth to me. All this time, it was a lie to cover up who I really am. The truth would've been good enough. It doesn't matter to me that I was adopted because clearly my birth parents didn't give a damn about me if they would give me away just because my babysitter was killed. I care that they didn't tell me the truth until they could no longer hold in their lies and manipulations.

I'm Bellatrix Rothchild. I'm that little girl Damien carried out of that house of horrors.

The voicemail cuts out and my phone drops from my hand as I take in a ragged breath. This is why I felt connected to him the second I saw him and that flash of a memory of the little boy in the purge mask…that was him. I should've connected it sooner, but I guess I didn't want to see what was staring right back at me.

No one could seem to figure out why, out of everyone he encountered that night, he let her live. He didn't even want to let her go. He was rather docile before, but when she was ripped from his arms, it took seven men to contain him. He put two of them in the hospital.

I remember my dad's words from the morning after Damien escaped prison and I also remember thinking he must've loved her. Is that true? Does he love me? It seems so insane now that it's me and him. He doesn't know much about me. At least I don't think he does.

"I'm her," I say.

Damien raises a brow at me, a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

"Bellatrix Rothchild. That's me, isn't it?"

There is no delay in his response, like he expected that I already knew this. The cautiousness in his eyes says as much. He quickly nods.

It hits me like a ton of bricks, like I was in shock until he confirmed what my mom said on the voicemail. "I…I didn't know. They kept the truth from me. I…I was in that house with you."

His eyes narrow with what looks like anger, the first negative emotion I've seen him show period, and oddly enough, it's sexy as fuck on his handsome face.

I know he can't answer me and I know it's not his fault. I've done research on people who suddenly stop talking without any physical trauma. What is happening to him is called selective mutism. It can be a side effect of childhood trauma, a confirmation of what I've suspected for days. Something happened to him back then, something really bad.

"Why did you come back?" I ask and his gaze darkens as his lips thin with frustration. "This is the one place you could easily be caught. You ran the risk of people recognizing you instead of going somewhere that no one knows who you are. Now, Calvin is dead. Tiffany and her friends are missing and I know you had something to do with that. The guard is in the hospital. Why did you do all of this, Damien?"

He takes a deep breath, stress clear on his face, as I move closer to him. I take his hands in mine, knowing he probably won't give me an answer. He hasn't given me many in the time that he's been back in my life, but I know how hard it must be.

He opens his mouth and my heart stops as, for the first time in fourteen years, Damien King speaks. "You," he says and my entire chest aches as tears fill my eyes. His fingers come up and trail down my cheek as love shines in his captivating eyes. His voice is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard in my life. Deep, husky, and hoarse, but I know part of that is probably from the lack of use. For all I know, he might have been using it privately where no one could hear him speak. "I… did… all… of this… for… you." He spaces out his words as he leans into me, pressing his forehead to mine, and my entire soul breaks apart, remolding into who I was always meant to be.

His.

His fingers tangle in my hair as he holds me close, a sob falling from my lips. Damien is the man I've been waiting for. He did all of this for me, to get to me, to keep me, to make me his. He came back to Chippewa Falls for me. I didn't think this level of devotion existed. I thought it was only possible in my fantasies, but he's right here, staring at me like I hung the moon and created the stars.

"You're…mine…Trixie."

I nod even as tears still fall down my face. I never knew I could be as happy or feel as loved as I do right now. I kind of like him calling me Trixie.

"Yours yesterday, today, tomorrow, and every day after."