Brutal Discoveries (9 page)

DAMON

It was drizzling rain the day Damon made Sandy his wife.  With just her mother as their witness, they stood side by side in the courthouse and declared their love to each other.  Sandy wore a pretty cream dress that reached her knees and showed off her pregnant stomach.  On her head she had on a little hat with some netting that came down over her eyes.  Those eyes were shining with unshed happy tears.   Damon didn’t want or need a ring, but he had purchased Sandy a pretty plain gold band from the jewelers, and when he slid it on her ring finger, she beamed at him.  They signed the paperwork and then drove back to Sandy’s mother’s trailer where she prepared a wedding feast for them.  Baked pork with all the trimmings, and yellow cake with white frosting for dessert.  It was delicious. 

That night, Sandy and Damon went back to the small unit they had moved into just six weeks before, and he made love to her, sealing their vows. 

Despite being heavily pregnant, Sandy still worked at the diner, and Damon continued to take his out of town ‘work’ trips.  Sandy was the perfect wife: she didn’t ask too many questions, and when she did, she always accepted his lies as truths.  She never denied him access to her body, and she made their house a home.  Damon hadn’t raped a woman since the day Sandy told him she was pregnant, but he did kill women during that time.  They had a baby on the way and they needed money, so Damon saw to getting it.  He also had an untamable urge to kill his parents over and over, so he did that, too. 

Late one night, Damon was almost done murdering the woman who lay lifeless below him, when he heard a door in the house click shut.  He narrowed his eyes and quickly jammed his knife into the throat of the black woman, ensuring she was dead, before he crept out of her bedroom.  He heard water running, so he made his way in the direction it was coming from.  The bathroom.  Damon put his ear to the door and listened.  He heard the water shut off, then the soft splash of water against the side of the tub as the person sunk down.  Then a feminine sigh.  He tested the door handle and it turned easily.  He stepped inside the room and saw her back was to him and she had buds in her ears.  It was loud, he could hear the thrum of the music.  Damon didn’t bother wiping the other woman’s blood off his knife before he launched a surprise attack on the girl in the tub.  The water went from clear to bright red as he repeatedly drove the knife into her back and shoulders.  Her terrorized cries turned garbled as she slunk down in the water, drowning in her own blood.  Before he left the bathroom, Damon slit her throat, and when he did, he pictured his mother’s face.

After he had cleaned up and raided the house for money and valuables, Damon walked to a truck stop and sat at a table.  He ordered a coffee and a plate of food, and ate it while watching the truck drivers come and go.  When he was done, he walked outside and approached a man, asking for a ride.  He agreed and Damon climbed up in the cab.  Two hours later, he was jumping out of the truck at the diner where Sandy worked.  It was four in the morning, so she would be home in bed.  Damon and Sandy didn’t live far from there, so he made it home quickly. Just like always, she didn’t ask any questions when she roused as he hopped into bed beside her and hugged her pregnant body to him.  He needed to fuck her, work all of that adrenaline from the double murder out of his system, but as her soft snores resumed, he knew he would need to wait until morning.

Damon had never been exposed to a lot of love in his life.  He didn’t know what it felt like to be loved by his parents.  He didn’t know how it felt to be loved by a friend, and he certainly didn’t know what it felt like to love someone.  But Damon knew that what he felt for Sandy was love.  He loved her.  She loved him.  With the dysfunctional childhood he experienced, Damon didn’t show his affection regularly to Sandy; however, she easily displayed to him her love.  Random kisses, touches of the hand, an embrace.  As was her way, she never asked for more than he was willing to give, and maybe that played a part in how much he loved her.

The rest of Sandy’s pregnancy passed quickly, with Damon helping her in the nursery when she requested it, and doing odd jobs around the house to make it safe for a baby.  Sandy’s mother purchased them a cradle from a yard sale, and Damon sanded it down and painted it white.  Sandy spent her days making clothes for the baby and wall hangings to decorate the nursery.  Damon wanted to surprise her, he wanted a way to show her the love he felt for her without actually saying the words, so he went out and bought a stroller.  He spared no expense, purchasing a top-of-the-line stroller that the sales assistant assured him was every parent-to-be’s dream.  Damon made sure it was assembled before he wheeled it inside and showed Sandy.  She had clutched her swollen stomach and gasped as tears of joy streamed down her face.  That very same night she woke him in the early hours of the morning and told him the baby was on the way, and they had to get to hospital.

Damon called Sandy’s mother, and she drove them to the hospital.  He waited outside the delivery room, pacing the corridors for fifteen hours while his wife labored with her mother by her side.  He had decided early on he didn’t want to be in the room when the baby came out.  It wasn’t his scene.  He wasn’t interested in seeing Sandy’s pussy torn wide open as the kid he wasn’t sure he really wanted was brought into the world.  But after pacing those corridors for all those hours, he changed his mind.  Damon barged through the swinging doors that led to Sandy’s room and then slid aside the curtain.  He was confronted with his wife on the bed, her face twisted in pain and wet with sweat, her mother beside her, clutching her hand.  Sandy’s legs in stirrups, spread wide, a doctor between them.  It was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen.  It didn’t look normal.  Damon felt the blood drain from his head and he worried he might pass out, yet he couldn’t look away.  He silently watched as Sandy delivered the baby.

“It’s a girl!” the doctor had cheered.  “Congratulations.”

They had asked if Damon wanted to cut the cord, but he declined.  He stood against the far wall, not coming closer.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to be near the screaming kid that was still covered in god knows what.  It was odd for Damon to feel so reluctant.  By that time, he had murdered many women, been covered from head to toe in their blood, reveled in watching the light drain from their eyes.  Yet he didn’t want to be near his newborn daughter.  Maybe it was because he felt nothing for his victims, and he felt
something
for his child.

She weighed seven pounds.  Sandy and her mother, even the nurses, said that she looked just like Damon.  When the baby was cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket, and Sandy had a blanket over her, Damon ventured closer.  He ordered Sandy’s mother out for a moment.  He just wanted some time with them alone.  He wasn’t sure why.  He just
needed
it.  The kid had chubby pink cheeks and Sandy’s lips.  Damon couldn’t see any resemblance to himself.  He stroked her cheek softly with his finger and she opened her eyes and looked at him. 

“What do you think we should call her?” Sandy’s soft voice broke the silence, but Damon was enraptured by the baby so he didn’t answer right away.  The kid was nearly bald, except for the light spray of mousey-brown fluff on her head.  Even so, Damon had to admit, she was pretty.  And she was tiny.  So fucking tiny.  Her entire head could have fit into Damon’s palm.  He didn’t want to hold her, but he found a small part of himself enjoying watching as Sandy did. 

Once the nurses had moved Sandy into the ward, Sandy’s mother drove Damon home before continuing on to her trailer.  Damon walked inside and took his last beer from the fridge.  He popped the top and drank it down while leaning against the kitchen counter.  When he was done, he walked to a bar not far from there and sunk a few more beers.  He was trying to drown the swelling feeling of love in his gut, at the same time trying to come to terms with it.  When he realized no amount of alcohol was going to help him, Damon walked home and fell into bed, fully clothed.

Sandy stayed in hospital for four nights.  Damon didn’t visit her once.  When the time came for Sandy to bring the baby home, her mother drove her.  Damon was struggling with the depths of his feelings for the baby.  He was three sheets to the wind the night before when he started to wonder whether his own parents had felt like that when he was born.  Thoughts of them only led to questions he would never get the answers to, and in turn, it would fuel that unbridled urge in his gut.  He contemplated going out for a hunt, executing his rage on a helpless woman, but wisely decided he was too drunk and would likely get caught.  It was sheer luck the police hadn’t thrown him away as it was. 

SCARLETT

The guard’s voice signaled the end of visiting hours and also cut short Damon’s story and I grimaced as he closed the book.

“You were conflicted, because you’d only ever known hate, except for with Sandy, of course.  Then that helpless little baby was thrown into the mix and all of a sudden, you felt that overwhelming love only a parent knows.  Except you didn’t know what you were feeling,” I surmised.

“Sounds about right,” he responded gruffly.

“I think I can imagine how that would have felt,” I said.

“VISITORS ARE REQUESTED TO LEAVE THE VISITING ROOM.  FINAL CALL.  VISITING HOURS ARE OVER.”

“I guess I better get going.  See you next time, Damon.”

He nodded swiftly.  “Thanks for the cakes.”

“My pleasure.”

I left South Glenn and drove back to the city.  Aden had finished work at six that morning, so he was sleeping and promised me he would come by my place after he woke up.  It was already midday by the time I pulled my car to a stop in my driveway so I went inside and made myself some lunch.  I ate my sandwich sitting outside in my Adirondack chair as I thought about Damon and the confessions he had revealed.  Maybe to some I was naïve for always seeing the best in people, but I preferred to think of that personality trait as a credit to my upbringing.  My parents had always instilled in me not to judge others, and to always look for the good in a person.  I guessed they figured there was already so much ugly in the world, it was better to concentrate on the beauty.

As I finished off my lunch, my cell rang, the screen displaying Veronica’s name. 

“Hi, Veronica,” I answered with a smile.

“Scarlett, hi.  How are you?”

“I’m great, thanks, and you?”

“Wonderful.  I was calling to see how you’re enjoying the Friends For Lifers program?  Is everything going okay?”

“Everything’s fine.  I actually, not long ago, got home from visiting Damon,” I shared.

“You’re liking it then?”  From her hesitant tone, I had to wonder how many volunteers began the program but soon had to pull out.  Maybe it was too much for them, more intense than what they had imagined. 

“Yeah, it’s fine.  I’ve discovered Damon has a sweet tooth, so I bring him treats from my bakery, and he shares passages from the journal he writes in.  In the beginning, those confessions frightened me, but I learned to tuck them away and think of it as a fiction book he’s writing,” I admitted.  “It makes it less real and doesn’t play on my mind when I’m alone then.”

“That makes perfect sense.  I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Scarlett.  The feedback I received from Damon indicated he feels the same way.  If you have any concerns or questions, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Thanks, Veronica.  Bye.”  I ended the call just as my doorbell rang, so I jumped up and jogged through the house.  I opened the door and there he stood.  I smiled like I hadn’t seen him for years. 

Aden.

He looked delicious in a pair of dark jeans and a pale blue button-down.  The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was damp from his shower.  He toed his boots off inside my door and followed me through the kitchen, where I handed him a beer.  I refilled my own drink and fixed us a plate of snacks.

“How was your day, or should I say night?” I asked before popping a cube of crumbly cheese into my mouth.

“Eventful,” he replied. 

“Can you share, or is that against the rules?” I wasn’t entirely sure on the privacy and disclosure rules that Aden would have to follow.

“A group of inmates caused a riot in the yard, and during the fight, a guard caught a blow to the head.”

“Oh, my god,” I gasped.

“She’s fine,” he assured me swiftly.  “Nothing an ice pack and a few days’ rest won’t cure.  Still, it causes tension among the inmates and the guards, and considering we’re all under enough stress as it is, anything extra has everyone standing on edge.  Plus, it’s a lot of paperwork,” he added the last part with a one-sided grin and I had a feeling it was to drown the ball of anxiousness that was slithering up my throat from the depths of my stomach.

“Were you… are you… I guess I never really realized how dangerous your job was.  Are you safe?” I all but whispered as the significance of the situation seemed to hit me head-on.

“I’m properly trained, and I take no risks.”

“Okay.  Good,” I replied softly, not at all feeling reassured.  Of course I knew what he did for a living, and the people he surrounded himself with while he was working, but I never let myself consider how extremely dangerous his job was.  The more I thought about it, the more afraid for his safety I became.  I had watched enough fictionalized television shows to know criminals could be creative and manipulative.  They would do anything to get what they wanted, not giving a second thought to the people they affected in the process. 

“Baby,” he called softly as he approached me.  His strong arms rounded my slim waist as he pulled me flush against him.  “I’m as careful as I can be.  Every job is dangerous – you could burn your hand on one of your ovens, or get your hair caught in a beater and rip it from your scalp.  We all have to contend with different situations every day, and just like you know how to safely operate your bakery, I know how to keep myself as safe as I can be when I’m inside those walls.”

“Have you ever been hurt?”

He shook his head.  “No.  That’s not to say I haven’t been in some precarious situations that could have turned dangerous, but the important thing, and the thing to focus on, is those situations
didn’t
turn dangerous.”

“Okay.”

“Relax, sweetheart.”  He kissed me softly and I moaned into his mouth when his expert tongue pushed past my lips.  My hands wrapped around his neck and I pulled him to me, hoping to convey everything I couldn’t say out loud in that one simple, heart-consuming kiss.  He kissed me back just as desperately.  His hands squeezed my ass in sheer possession as he kept my entire frame tight against his own.  When we pulled back to draw in precious air, I was panting and he was breathing heavy, his eyes clouded with lust.  Molten indigo.  Hypnotizing. 

“You want to eat first, or fuck?” he asked huskily.  I thought about it for barely a moment before I tugged his neck back down and crashed my lips to his.  “Fuck it is, then,” he murmured against my lips.  His words gave me the perfect opportunity to slide my tongue inside his mouth.  He groaned and it sent a heady shiver up my spine.  I couldn’t hold back anymore.  My fingers clawed at his shirt as I desperately tried to tear it from his body.  He unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall to the floor before I stepped out of them, my mouth still connected to his.  I was wet, achy. 
Needy.
 

“Arms,” he muttered, and I instantly lifted my hands so he could lift my top over my head.  I shoved his shirt down over his shoulders and let it fall before I went to work, unbuckling his belt, then his buttons, and then shoving his jeans down over his glorious, tight ass.  My bra was next to fall on my kitchen floor, and I was left in nothing but a skimpy pale blue lace thong.  Aden was completely naked, his cock jutted out, hard and waiting.  He boosted me up and my butt met the cold marble on my counter.  I didn’t have time to shriek though, because his mouth closed around my nipple and he sucked deep while his teeth nipped.  His fingers worked my other breast and I was so turned on, I was trying to shuffle close to him so I could get the friction I desired on the part of me that was throbbing relentlessly. 

“You like these panties?” he asked, at what I thought was an extremely odd time, considering his tongue was swirling around the tightened bud on my breast.

“Uh, yeah?” I breathed, squirming on the counter.

“I’ll buy you some more,” he rasped.  Then his hands went to my panties and he ripped them clean in half before tugging me to the edge of the counter so my lower half was barely seated on the marble.  I gripped the sides with my hands to steady myself and then Aden’s deft fingers were slipping through the warm wetness between my legs.  I gasped his name on a wisp of breath as he circled my clit and then dipped down further to enter me.

“So fucking wet,” he growled, pride evident in his tone.  “Drenched,” he murmured reverently.  “Line me up, Scarlett.”  I gripped his cock, stroking it a few times, watching as the thick beads of pre-cum pooled on his angry head.  “Stop teasing.”  His face was so close to mine that when I licked my lips, I licked his too.  “Fuck it,” he decided on a desperate rasp as he moved his length from my palm and thrust inside of me in one long, smooth stroke that had my back arching and my mouth falling wide open. 

“Yes!” I cried as he began to pound into me.  His pace was bruising.  Furious.  Oh so good.  My fingernails made little moon shaped marks in his shoulders as I gripped him.  My heels dug into his back as I wrapped my legs around him tightly.  My mouth opened and closed, my lips moving as I silently breathed his name.  His strong hands held me securely at my hips, so tight I was sure I would wake up with bruises, and I didn’t care a bit.  The sounds of his balls slapping against my wet flesh consumed my ears. The high was building, coiling in my stomach like a venomous cobra, ready to strike at any moment.  The first ripple hit me hard, suddenly, then I was closing my eyes and clenching tight around him.  I felt the vibrations from his tortured growl move through my chest.  His thumb found my clit and he pushed and circled, sending another wave of pleasure rolling through my system. 

“Fucking
fuck
,” he rasped.  “You’re soakin’ my balls.”  He pounded into me harder and harder and I held on, watching him.  The tightness in his jaw, his teeth clamped together, his lust-filled indigo eyes that were trained on my breasts.  A sheen of sweat coated his forehead.  I felt his arms as my fingers ran over his tattooed sleeve, and I moved down to feel his ass as it clenched and relaxed with every precise thrust he inflicted on me.

“You feel so good,” I murmured.  I licked his neck, loving the burst of salty flavor that hit my taste buds.

“Never felt better than you, baby.  God, so fucking tight.  Can’t get enough.”

“Don’t stop,” I begged as my breath hitched and I felt my womb contract.  “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised ruggedly.  “Never stop fucking you.”  His teeth found my neck and he bit me almost to the point of pain as I came for the third time.  When I came down from the high, his thrusts had slowed and he was fucking me with lazy precision.  Slow.  Every outward pull of his cock scraped against the tender nerves inside of me, and every inward push had my lungs expelling air in a
whoosh.
 

“Aden,” I whispered.  His eyes were locked on our connection, and I looked down to see his cock emerging from my pussy, covered in the slick essence of my arousal.  Not being able to help myself, I reached down and gripped him as he sunk back inside me.  My fingers found his balls, wet, covered in me, full and tight, ready to explode.  I squeezed him gently and his eyes clamped shut.

“Again,” he demanded hoarsely.  I squeezed him again before releasing and repeating.  His thrusts began to falter and then with a guttural groan he planted himself inside me and came.

***

Not long after I had cleaned myself up, I went in search of some new panties and redressed, my cell rang. 

“Hey,” I answered with a smile.

“Hey, chicky.  I was calling to see if you wanted to come and have drinks tonight at Marsden’s Bar?  It’s opening night and I promised Freddie I’d be there to support him, but I forgot until just now,” Ella told me, her tone apologetic with an undercurrent of whiny.

“Um…” I glanced across to Aden, who was eyeing me speculatively. 

“Come on, Scar,” she begged.  “It won’t be a late night, I promise.  Just come, have one drink, maybe a little dance, and then you can go.  Please.  Pretty please.”  I could tell she was pouting.

“Just a second.”  I held the phone against my chest and looked to Aden.  “So, Ella wants me to go to her friend’s bar opening tonight.  Do you want to go?”

“Sounds good,” he replied easily.

I put the phone back to my ear.  “Els, I’ll be there, and um, Aden, too.”

“Awesome!  I’ll text you the address.  See you there in about an hour.  Love you.”  Then she was gone.  I rolled my eyes.

“Well, I guess we’ve got to be at Marsden’s Bar in an hour to meet Ella,” I told Aden.

“Cool.”  Just then, Aden’s cell rang.

“I’ll go get ready,” I said.  “We can stop by your loft on the way if you need to get changed?”  Personally, I thought he looked good enough to eat and perfect as he was, so I was glad when he said he was good to go in what he was wearing.  I left the room as he answered his phone, and made my way into the shower.