12. Lights Out

Twelve

Lights Out

I felt a sharp prick puncture in the side of my neck, and my vision started to blur. I stood up and fell right back down while the world around me was moving in a slow blur. When my vision becomes slightly clear, I find my head in a position where I am facing Ghost. He looks at me and grunts out something. I tried to yell, but nothing came out except his name "Ghost".

I looked up to see the devil himself towering over me, his presence exuding a sinister aura that seems to draw me in. His eyes bore into mine, waiting for me to succumb to his spell. The stars above, once a comforting sight, now seemed distant and cold. The world around me feels like it is closing in, the vast sky pressing tighter with every passing second. My vision begins to blur, and I feel myself slipping away, losing the battle against the darkness that threatens to eat me alive.

Ghost reaches out to me, his hand trembling with urgency as he pleads for me to fight through it. His voice is desperate, but I can feel the darkness already taking hold. It's too late—the shadows envelop me, and my strength fades. My eyes grow heavier with each passing second, and despite his pleas, I can't resist the overwhelming need to close them. I just need a moment, just a brief respite. I need to rest.

* * *

I'm trying to adjust my eyes and the bright light above me is no help. I can feel that I am laying on something cold and hard, my wrists and ankles are tied down and I can't move. My body feels like it's been hit by a truck and dragged for miles. My head is throbbing and my vision is still blurred.

I can hear footsteps approaching me from a close distance and I am trying to get my hands free from being bound. A voice speaks out.

"Hello, my little Sinister," he purred, his tone dripping with false affection. "Did you miss me?"

Terror crashed through me like a tidal wave. It couldn't be… But I knew that voice, that twisted nickname. The man who had molested and traumatized me as a child. The one I had thought I escaped when he went to prison for other crimes. I had heard about it all on the news and was sure I'd never have to worry about him again.

Marklov. My mother's ex-boyfriend. The devil in human form himself.

He moved closer, trailing a finger along my cheek. When I caught a glimpse of it, it was the finger I had bit the tip off of when I was a little girl. I flinched and recoiled from his touch, bile rising in my throat. "Oh, don't be like that, Little Sinister. We're going to have so much fun together, just like old times." His voice was a mocking sing-song.

I wanted to scream but my mouth was so dry and my throat ached. "You're all grown up now," he said, his voice low and menacing. "And I have plans for you." How long was I out?

I started struggling against the ropes again, thrashing and bucking against the table. "Help! Someone help me!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and raw. But I knew no one could hear me down here.

Marklov chuckled darkly, enjoying my fear and pain. "No one's coming to save you, Sinister. You're mine now. My special pet. I've waited so long for this day."

He reached over and grabbed a knife that was on a nearby table, bringing it to trace my cheek down to my throat and down my chest onto my stomach.

"Please, don't do this," I begged, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry, I'll do anything, just let me go!" I feel so powerless and weak. I'm usually on the other end of that blade.

But he ignored my pleas. Marklov ran his hands roughly over my exposed skin, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise me. He pinched and twisted my nipples until I cried out in agony. Then he unfastened his belt, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Please don't fuckin' do this to me," I said in a low voice with tears stinging my eyes. "Shh, don't fight it, little Sinister," he cooed, even as he positioned himself between my spread legs. "I'll make you feel so good… We're going to play for a long, long time. I'll never let you go again."

I opened my mouth to scream at him but he shoved a rag in it, muffling my cries.

He took the knife cutting off my thin underwear and exploring with his free hand. "I wouldn't move too much if I were you Little Sinister, this blade is very…very sharp." He moved his hands down to my folds spreading me open for him. Then he was inside me, tearing through my dryness, stretching me open.

I screamed and screamed behind the gag, my vision going white from the agony. Just kill me, please.

He pounded into me mercilessly, grunting and growling like a wild animal feasting on its prey. The pain was unlike anything I'd felt before, shredding my insides. I sobbed and shook, thrashing my head from side to side. The tears I tried so hard to hold back came bursting out. His moans echoed off of the walls causing me to feel sick to my stomach.

Marklov rode me hard and fast, chasing down his own pleasure. Taking his knife he sliced an area on my thigh and used that blood as a lubricant. I can't do anything to stop this. I just have to accept what this is for now.

When he finally finished, I was left a whimpering, broken mess, covered in his seed and my own blood. He looked down at me with smug satisfaction, like he had won some game. A sick twisted game and I was the prize he got to take home.

"Such a good girl," he praised, petting my hair. "You're going to be the perfect pet. I'll train you to love your place at my feet. To crave my touch. My cock will be the only thing that brings you joy now. If you try to leave you will end up like your mother. Dead."

I stared at him with hatred and horror, wishing I could reach out and strangle him or better yet slit his fuckin' throat. But I was utterly at his mercy, a prisoner to his depraved whims and sadistic desires. He has taken me into my own personal fuckin' hell.

I closed my eyes, tears streaking onto my cheeks, and waited for the next round of agony. The devil had me now. And he would never be satisfied.