3. Cherise

Chapter three

Cherise

Two Months Until Christmas

“ M ommy took the candy away from me again. She said it rots your teeth.” I glance at the girl who lies facing me in the single bed, in a room lined with padded white walls under the bright fluorescent lights that flicker every so often. Her brown hair is in tight pigtails, and her bright blue eyes burn into my soul and portray the very image of innocence. She’s wearing a knee-length cream-colored dress with frills at the wrists and around the hem. She visits me every night while I lie here in this place, surrounded by the bad men—she’s my only friend.

“Did your Daddy catch you with the candy?” My friend wrinkles her nose at me and giggles softly—you must be quiet to not draw the bad men’s attention. Don’t let them know you’re awake.

“No, not this time. Mommy took it away before he could see. She told me before the Rite of Blessings she would give me a candy cane if I was a good girl, but I had to promise to eat it in my room where no one could see me. I promised I would be good,” she whispers as she looks down, but not before I catch the hint of sorrow reflecting in the murky waters of her tears.

I grasp her chin gently and force her to meet my stare once more. “Did your Daddy hurt you again? You are such a good girl, I’m sure he had his reasons. You’re his favorite, after all. ” Her chin trembles, and she exhales a shaky breath. “One day, once you complete the Rite yourself, you will make your parents so proud, and I’m sure they will reward you with all of the candy in the world. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you anymore when you fulfilled your duty, remember? It won’t be long now.” I stroke her chocolate brown hair, twirling my fingers all the way down to the end of her pigtail.

She sits up, adjusting her legs so she sits criss-cross. I mimic her actions and do the same, so we sit face to face and knee to knee. “Yeah, but I’m only eight. Daddy said that I need to be older before I can complete the Rite of Blessings.”

I give her an incredulous look, raising a brow. “He’s allowed others younger than you to do it. Did he say why you needed to wait?”

My friend grabs her feet and rocks back and forth. Her eyes cloud over, lost in deep thought. She does this every now and then when I talk to her about her Daddy. I lost my own parents, so I understand that it can sometimes be hard to talk about them—especially the bad things they can often do. She snaps her face to meet mine, as she blinks repeatedly—probably to make the bad thoughts go away. She explodes into a chorus of giggles and shakes her head. I love the way she laughs, her smile with her missing two front teeth. But we have to be quiet. I shush her, placing my index finger against her lips. “You have to be quiet, or else the bad men will find you and take you away from me again.”

“Did you hear that, Scryer? I think our girl is awake and wants to play.” My spine stiffens, and I hold my breath. The bad men are coming.

I hear their laughter from down the hall, the sound like nails on a chalkboard—making my stomach churn. I cover my mouth, to quiet my uneven breaths from becoming too loud. My friend tugs on the sleeve of my shirt, demanding that I lie down again to pretend to be asleep. I follow her lead and lie my head on the pillow, coated in red stains from my previous visits with the vile men who want to hurt me.

“I think you’re right, Branson. What do you think, Ashcroft? Should we go teach her another lesson about disobeying the rules?” The three men’s voices are louder now, I hear their snickering outside my door.

My friend places her hand in mine to reassure me that everything will be alright. It won’t be, but I appreciate the sentiment either way. The door bursts open, and my body jerks from the loud bang. I squeeze my eyes shut to avoid their hungry eyes—they always come to take from me… always taking.

“Aw, you’re so cute, pretending to be asleep. We heard you whispering.” This time, it’s a voice I dread more than the others. Will Ashcroft, the one who wields a knife and cuts into my skin when he takes from me—he’s the most gruesome out of the three men. The footsteps stop next to the bed, their sinful presence looming large over me. I swallow hard, trying desperately to push down the acidic bile rising in my throat. “Not gonna answer me, little crazy bitch?”

A scream emerges from deep within me as rough hands grasp a handful of my hair, and yank me into a sitting position. My eyes flutter open and I’m met with the cold stare of Will, flanked by Jack Scryer and Thomas Branson—the men who haunt me during the night. I glance down, and panic settles into my core when I realize my friend is no longer next to me. They fucking took her away from me again. Tears well behind my eyes—I’m all alone again, alone with these monsters. A sharp hiss through clenched teeth emerges as Will tightens his grip on my hair, forcing my gaze to meet the malice in his eyes. “Are you gonna cry? You know I love it when you cry, crazy girl.” I shout in his face at the mention of him calling me crazy—I fucking hate being called that.

“I’m not crazy! I swear, I’m not! Just let me go, I’ll be good, I promise!” My pleas always go unanswered, and I know nothing I say or do will stop what’s about to happen. Will shoves his blade against my throat, a murderous sneer pulling his lips back. I try to pull my head away, but his hold on me is firm. The cold bite of the blade on my flesh sends my heart rate into overdrive. “No more scars. Please…” I whisper softly. A tear escapes me—I’m no longer able to contain them as reality sinks in.

“Oh yeah? Who were you talking to then? It’s only you locked away in this room, so you must be fucking crazy if you’re in here talking to your invisible friends,” Scryer chimes in. He stands to the left of Ashcroft, and the stench of cigarettes wafts into my nostrils and makes me gag.

In my periphery, in the only dark corner of this padded, soundproof room, I see my friend. She cowers against the wall, fear etched into her beautiful features, as she stares wide-eyed at me. I cry out when I lock eyes with her. “Don’t watch,” I murmur, as the tears fall in a cascade down my pale cheeks. A fist connects with my jaw and pain rolls through my face, as I feel my facial bones shudder under the blunt force exerted in the blow. The metallic tang of blood covers my tongue and I cry out in agony. I bring my fingers to touch my aching jaw, when laughter surrounds me, and both of my wrists are held by the other two bad men. “Why? Why do you do this?”

Will’s lips warp into a repulsive smirk. He brings the blade to my cheek, making a small cut. I wince and cry out as I feel the warmth of my blood trickling down my skin. “You know why. Don’t act fucking stupid.” Will backs away and lifts his shirt to reveal the jagged scar across his abdomen. “You almost killed me that day and ruined the offering to Lucifer. You almost got us killed by The Saint because of it, and I will never let you forget that. You can keep trying to suppress your memories all you want, but I will ensure to brand your flesh the way you did mine, whenever the fuck I want.” He leans in closer to my face, brows furrowed. “Every. Fucking. Day. I will make you pay for your failures. Your parents were so disappointed.”

I search his eyes frantically. I have no recollection of any of this. “I didn’t do anything! The Saint killed my family! I would never let him hurt anyone on purpose!”

Will snorts a laugh and looks to his left, and then his right, at the others. They break out in wild laughter while they look at me. “You’re so fucking crazy. Take her clothes off.”

My heart pounds to a dangerous beat, as I try to kick and claw at them. They continue to taunt me with their laughter as they tear at my clothes, ripping my pants down my legs. Pain explodes behind my eyes and shoots down my spine as another fist connects with my face. One of the men slam my face down into the pillow, while another moves behind me and lifts my ass into the air. I scream and I cry—but no one ever saves me.

I lift my head briefly, and I look at my friend who hides in the corner. Good, at least they leave her alone. I will take this punishment so that she never has to—never again. A single tear slides down my cheek, but I no longer make a sound. I let my muscles go slack, and I let the bad men take from me. I smother my face in the pillow and cover my ears with my hands to drown out the sound of loud grunts that echo throughout the room. I draw in a deep breath—dragging my sanity along with it—and I shed the final tear that seals their fate. I vow to never let another tear fall again, not until every last one of my tormentors are exorcized from this world.

I shake my head and focus on the fingers that snap in front of my face. The sound is dull and appears distant, until it becomes clear and sharp—the sound resonating in my ears—and the thoughts dissipate like a rolling storm cloud out of my mind. My breath catches when my eyesight focuses on the handsome man sitting across from me—on Nik.

“Cherise?” he asks hesitantly, setting his hand down on the table in front of us. “Are you alright? You just zoned out for, like, five minutes.”

I squint, dragging my eyes lazily to get a look at my surroundings. I’m in a coffee shop, sitting at a table with Nik Saintclair— my fucking shadow for the past month. I don’t know why I agreed to meet with him here, but his persistent begging made me finally cave in. This man won’t leave me the hell alone. I’ve told him countless times that I’m not interested in a relationship, but he won’t let up. He ensnares me in his piercing caramel eyes, and my breath hitches. At least he’s pretty to look at. His clean-shaven, chiseled jawline is framed in perfect harmony with his long, tousled brown hair. Sometimes I picture myself running my fingers through his hair, but then I recoil at the image. I can’t lose focus on my mission, and he’s just a fucking distraction. A very sexy distraction… my thoughts wander as I rake my eyes past his jaw, down to the perfect view of his muscular chest—visible beneath his shirt with the top few buttons undone. My mouth waters at the sight of his toned arms flexing, as they stretch the seams of his tight, satin, maroon button-up shirt.

I hear a low rumble of laughter, and catch sight of Nik’s shoulders moving up and down. “Cherise,” he muses, his tone a few pitches deeper than usual.

I dart my eyes back to his, with my bottom lip nibbled between my teeth. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Were you just checking me out?” A devious grin emerges from his lips, accentuating his prominent cheekbones.

I pin him with a death glare. “Definitely not,” I snap.

He huffs out a laugh and leans forward. “I think you were. Were you fantasizing about all of the things I could do to you for the past five minutes?”

I scoff and cross my arms. “Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p’ sound.

A low hum rumbles in his chest. “Then what were you thinking about? Was it your friend?”

I narrow my eyes into slits, and slam my fists onto the table, hard enough to make the glassware of the coffee mugs, plates, and silverware shake. A few customers sitting around us shoot me worried glances. I ignore them and give all of my attention to the annoyingly handsome man in front of me. “I’m not crazy! My friend isn’t in my head, she’s real. I told you this already.”

He chuckles, which sets my blood on fire. I reach into my coat pocket, and grip the handle of my knife tight in my hand. I could fucking slash his throat for mocking me. “I never called you crazy, now did I?” I furrow my brows in confusion, loosening my grip on the knife. He leans in even closer, and brings his voice to a whisper. “In fact, if anyone here is crazy—it’s me.”

I lean my face closer to his, placing my elbow on the table and resting my cheek in my palm. My other hand still clutches my blade. “Why’s that, Nik?”

“Because I’m infatuated with this beautiful woman sitting in front of me, who has a knife in her pocket and is ready to cut me open at any second.” My eyes go wide, and my jaw drops at his confession. My fingers twitch against the blade. How did he know? “And you know what else?”

My heart hammers roughly inside my chest. “What?” I whisper.

“I’ve never been more turned on in my life. You fucking fascinate me.” He places both elbows on the table, grinning wide with his cheeks pressed against his palms.

My own cheeks flush, and desire pools low in my core. It would seem he is, in fact, psychotic. “How did you know I have a knife? You think I won’t use it?” I don’t even bother to lower my voice. The whole coffee shop can hear this for all I care.

“I know you’d use it, and that’s the best part about you. I’ve never been this enthralled by a hum-uh-woman, in my life.” He bites his lower lip slowly.

“And how did you know I had it?” My eyes focus on his lips, and I clench my thighs together tightly.

“You can say I’m very perceptive. I know you don’t trust me, and you probably shouldn’t hon—”

I fling my knife from my pocket and place the tip under his chin. Nik doesn’t even flinch—doesn’t even seem phased in the slightest. Instead, his grin widens like the Cheshire Cat, and his eyes darken to a ravenous, slightly crimson shade. He laughs low, pushing his neck onto the blade. I let out a sharp gasp, and for the first time, I’m in a situation that I don’t even know how to comprehend. I’m totally out of my element with this man. “Why can’t I trust you, Nik?”

A growl emits from deep in his chest. “You are so fucking sexy. Make me bleed for you, Cherise Bates.”

My hand trembles, and my core pulses at his sinful words. “You have fucking problems, sugar,” I respond, sweetly.

He opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by a man shouting from across the shop. I flick my eyes over to see a short, heavy-set man stomping over towards our table. I glare at him. How dare he fucking interrupt this? “Excuse me! There are children in here! What do you think you’re doing flashing that around?”

Nik swiftly pushes out his chair, the legs screeching on the floor at the harsh movement. I feel pressure on my blade before he stands, and I stare blankly at my knife—noticing that I nicked him with it. Nik swipes up the blood dripping down his neck with his thumb, and gets in the angry man’s face. “I would lower your tone when speaking to a lady, if I were you.” He places his thumb inside his mouth, laps up his blood, before slowly dragging the thumb out.

The man dons a disgusted look at Nik, his face beet red. “She held a knife to your throat in a public space where children can see! You’re both sick, I’m calling the police! That is unacc—”

Nik roughly grabs the fabric of the man’s shirt and growls. “What’s your name? First and last so I know who to address my Christmas card to.”

The man gasps, and his eyes go wide. “R-Robert Nichols,” he stammers out.

I can’t see Nik’s face, but he does something that scares the living shit out of this man because he begins squealing like a pig, with piss pooling in the crotch of his brown slacks. Nik lets out a vicious laugh, loosens his grip on the man’s shirt, and smooths out the wrinkles. “I hope you have a Merry Christmas this year, Robert Nichols. Stay safe.”

The man spins on his heels and runs out of the coffee shop, screaming. Nik turns back to me, offering his hand. “Come on, my sweet sin. Let’s get outta here.”

I’m confused, but also extremely aroused. Why was that so hot? I’ve never had someone stick up for me like that before. I put my knife in my pocket, then place my hand in his, and he pulls me up. He interlocks our fingers and leads us out of the coffee shop with a bright smile on his face. “What did you do to him, Nik?”

With his other hand, he reaches into his pocket and yanks out a cherry lollipop. He brings the wrapper to his mouth and rips it off with his teeth, spitting it onto the ground. My eyes light up, and I let out a squeal of excitement.

“I feel weirdly protective of you. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but no one fucks with you.” He brings the candy to my lips, and I open my mouth for him to place it in.

A giggle emerges out of me once the cherry sweetness hits my tongue. I pull the stick out slowly, taunting him with the slow pull of the lollipop out of my mouth. “You’re so sweet,” I muse in a singsong tone.

Maybe I am delusional, but Nik just scared the actual piss out of another man and then gave me candy? I’m still confused about why he hasn’t left me alone for the past month, or why he feels the need to be so possessive of me—I’ll admit that I like it. I can’t remember the last time someone cared for me, except for my friend. I think he can stick around after all.