Church Girl Gone Wild (24 page)

“Eva. I brought you some tea for your stomach. Are you doing all right, baby?” Mirna's called out to me through the bathroom door.

I bet she did want to give me some more of that damn tea. She was obviously only checking on me because they were probably watching me.

“I'm okay, but thank you. I'm just going to take a shower and go to bed,” I called out from the floor, the sound of my voice making me feel miserable.

“All right, baby. Do you want me to leave the tea for you?”

I struggled to sit up and responded, “No, thank you, Mirna. I don't really care for peppermint that much.”

The clinking of the tray as she turned and left was reassuring. I climbed into the shower, sighing as the hot water washed over my skin. Glancing at the ceiling I couldn't make out any lenses or shapes that looked like one over the vanity and it didn't seem like it was aimed to see into the shower. Relaxing as I realized showers were the only chance that I'd get some privacy, I lathered myself up, reveling in the fragrance of the shower gel. The smell of the ginger and peach seemed to calm my headache down, but I only made it worst when the desperation of my situation hit me. I was being held captive and used as some kind of personal sex slave. It sounded like the plot to some kind of suspense, drama movie and yet I was actually living it. From what I could figure, everyone who knew me or of me thought I was either locked up or dead.

“Teach me how the hell to do it then, since you think you're an expert.”

“This is the first crash-test dummy that I actually like, so pay close attention because this won't happen often.” Two voices bantered back and forth somewhere nearby.

I tried opening my eyes and it felt as if my eyelids were attached to one hundred pound weights. They were so heavy that lifting them seemed to drain me of all my energy. There was no way this shit could possibly be happening again. I exhaled an indignant breath beyond furious at the fun the two of them were having at my expense. None of it made sense. I ate the same things Mirna ate. I didn't touch the champagne or drink anything and still my ass was stuck going through this bullshit again.

As their conversation registered in my head I realized why the fingerprints on my side and back were so odd looking. They weren't the bishop's; they were Mirna's.

“Flip her on her stomach; it's my turn to get this shit going.”

The bishop's strained grunting and the sound of sheets sliding were the only indicators that I was being repositioned. Breathing now seemed harder, and even though I'd tried to suffocate myself the night before, the thought now had me in a panic.

“Baby, gimme that candle,” the bishop's voice was directly beside my ear and I screamed, cried, and cursed him in my mind, praying for a chance to at least bite him.

Strawberry-scented wax filled the air and as it scorched my back all the way down to the crack of my ass. Searing pain ran along its path and scorching every single one of my nerves. The skin on my back was on fire and I began grinding my teeth together to block out the pain. I could feel everything and the familiar tingling in my toes was evidence that I'd be able to move if I wanted to.

I waited until he pulled all the way out, leaving my ass feeling equally raw and just as sore as my back. The sound of the Bishop and Mirna kissing passionately beside me riled my temper. I knew I'd only have seconds. Edging my hand up under my hips I slid my fingers in between my legs as deep as I could from the angle I was lying in.

In one swift movement I pulled the wadded up toilet paper from inside myself where I'd hidden it. Yes, right up in the baby maker like a damn drug mule. My fingers quickly unraveled the paper that had turned into a semi-hardened shell. Turning my head in their direction I could see Mirna on top of the bishop. I dove at them, slicing wildly in every direction, a small razor in each hand. I was hell-bent on revenge and nothing was safe as I lashed out, shredding sheets and pillows.

One, two, three
. . .

It was as if they were momentarily stunned at my sudden mobility. There was no fight or flight; the bishop and Mirna were both stupefied. He was sputtering, his eyes bulging out of his head in shock, and I couldn't make out what he was saying over the sounds of my angry breaths and slashes. I'd somehow tapped into a deep and hateful place. It had me growling a low predatory sound with every slice. Controlling my hands was frustrating and I still couldn't fully sit up because the drugs were still wearing off.

Five, six, seven
. . .

I counted in my head the number of times I slung the blades in their direction.

An angry red gash opened across Mirna's lower back and she wailed, rolling onto the floor in agony, momentarily escaping my reach. I leaned over, grabbing the candle from the side of the bed, smashing it against the fat pig's forehead. The glass shattered and piping hot wax covered Bishop's face and eyes. He squealed and flounced around on the bed before going into convulsions.

“Oh Jesus Lord no, he's having a seizure. Please help him.” Mirna sobbed.

Well, looks like we've already got one down,
I answered my evil inner twin as I pulled myself down off the bed and stalked Mirna as she crawled pitifully toward the bedroom door.

When I'd taken my shower I had no real intention on doing what they'd made me do. I'd broken one of the razors, removing the twin blades and burying them in the center of a wad of toilet paper. In prison I'd seen Aeron do it with razors when she wanted to hide them in plain sight on the wall. She'd wet and then smooth the toilet paper out until it was almost see-through, and it would harden like papier-mâché or plaster. I had no clue if it would even work with a ball of moist toilet paper but what the hell did I have to lose?

This was all supposed to go down in the kitchen when the bishop was at work. I was supposed to get Mirna first and then wait for him to come home and catch him off guard. Thankfully the stuff they gave me wore off early for whatever reason. No one was ever going to humiliate me again and especially not under the guise of helping me. Antonia had to learn, these two needed to learn, and if my dearest, sweetest Dontay didn't give me the right answers he'd damn sure learn as well.

Mirna moaned from the force of my weight as I hoisted myself up and sat on her chest.

Dontay was out there somewhere and he was either thinking he'd pulled off the crime of the century or was sick to his stomach for having to do what he'd done. I should have just stayed with Deacon from the get-go. Aeron said money unmasks people and from what I'd seen of the bishop and his so-called godly wife maybe Dontay wasn't what I thought he was from the jump. Lost in my thoughts, I'd momentarily forgotten all about Mirna as she squirmed beneath me. Sneering down at her in disgust I thought about my life, the things I'd worked and longed for.

“The two of you could have easily helped me or sent me on my way. So tell me, Mirna, what turns good Christian folk into hostage-taking rapists? Is it the lust or the power?”

I waited for her answer and had to give her credit, for even now she glanced in her husband's direction for support. He'd stopped moving and was either dead or unconscious.

She stared up at me as her eyes did that shimmery dance that eyes do just before the tears start to fall. Under normal circumstances when a person cried I'd have felt bad, but her tears only made me impatient and irritated.

Her voice was a quiet, shaky whisper: “Kevin said that he bought you from a man. I don't know which man. I never asked. The man didn't want you anymore and Kevin bought you, that's all I know.”

Time stood still as the meaning behind her words settled into my being. Not only had Dontay played me for all of my money and my clients' money, but he'd also sold me? Like I was property? No, wait, like I was his property?

I couldn't have agreed with myself more.

I locked them in the basement after grabbing my sweats out the bathroom and went running through the house looking for cash, my phone, grabbing anything I'd need. Upstairs it was pretty obvious which bedroom was the master. Two oversized French-style doors sat facing me at the end of the long hallway. I kept waiting for some kind of combat Christian intruder alert system to go off somewhere. The adrenaline and my nerves had my stomach in annoyingly painful knots. The Bishop had close to $500 in his wallet that was lying out on the dressing table closest to the door. I shimmied open a drawer looking for his rainy day bama. Everybody has one. If the power goes out or a storm hits and ATMs don't work, you should always have cash in the house. Rich folk just keep extra.

There was a small bronze box with weird engravings all over it. It looked important and felt heavier than it appeared. I slid my fingers over the smooth etchings that ran deep into the metal diamonds carved inside squares and circles. A small panel slid sideways. Taking that as a step to open it I slid my fingers gently pressing other places on the little puzzle box sliding panels up and sideways until it bloomed like a square blossom.

I stared down into it at what looked like gum until I realized they were teeth and I jumped. The box slipped from my hand and hundreds of teeth scattered to the floor. Some of them were so tiny that I could almost envision all these tiny faces with happy gap-toothed grins. Bishop and Mirna didn't fit the charity Tooth Fairy profile type. Teeth were everywhere like oversized grains of rice at my feet. My palms got sweaty and my pulse sped away in my neck. Some were chipped others were covered in dried brown blood. They'd done so many things to so many girls and they had all these trophies. I was enraged at them and caught off guard when my chest ached with a dark sense of foolish envy. It was only be jealousy. I didn't dare take anything from Antonia; I'd felt too bad.
There are some sick
-
ass people who just like shooting fish in a barrel. Time for the fish to start shooting back.

I grabbed one of Mirna's purses and ran downstairs to get the keys and get myself out of this hell house. The bishop's study was the only place I hadn't checked for my phone and I actually debated on leaving the thing. The door to his study creaked open; the light flickered on automatically from the motion sensor in the wall. Rushing over to his desk I hesitated when it came to opening the drawers scared I'd find fingers and toes next. Holding my breath I pulled down out the center drawer first.

The only there was a small keyboard, beside it a press-button box.
Well where the hell is the computer? I can start looking up how to get Jada back, map out how to find Dontay.

It took me looking all underneath and around the desk to figure out the keyboard was wireless. That meant his laptop or computer could be anywhere, just like my phone that was dead so I couldn't even call it. Without it, I was lost because I didn't know anyone's number by heart anymore. Frustrated I punched the keyboard and whirled around to face the bookcase behind me. A small flat-screen television was mounted to the frame. Bishop was on the bed, with his hands across his chest like a funeral service. Mirna was kneeling beside him, rocking back and forth on her knees, praying.

I looked down at the push button next to the keyboard and pressed it slowly. Taking a slow, calming breath, I called out in a cold, flat voice, “Mirna?”

She stopped rocking herself and with her eyes closed she slowly lifted her head skyward. She suddenly whipped around with her lips drawn in a thin, angry line. She glared directly into the hidden camera as if the lens were my eyes. I took an involuntary step back from the screen. Her anger was frightening but I was on the other side of the door this time and my guard was now the prisoner.

“Mirna,” I called out in a softer tone than before, “I'm gonna burn this bitch down, and then hunt down Mona and Reena just for the hell of it if you don't tell me the combination to the safe.”

It was a gamble, but with everything they had I was pretty sure they had one and I didn't feel like wasting any more time looking for it. I could have asked her where the safe was but there wasn't anything to make her tell me and then tell me the code.

“Figure it out yourself.”

I rolled up my sleeves and cracked my knuckles. Mirna obviously wanted to meet my bad side. There was some yellow polypropylene rope sitting on a tall red and silver toolbox. It was the plastic floaty kind they used in swimming pools to mark lanes. Grabbing that duct tape, and a socket wrench, I went into the kitchen and spun around in a circle thinking to myself. The turkey baster sitting in the wash rack by the sink gave me an idea.

Minutes later after a few quick breaths I ignored my wobbly legs and charged into the room that used to be my holding cell. The air was thick with the smell of body funk, fear, and Bishop's bowels emptying as death became him on the bed. Caught off guard Mirna shrieked, wild-eyed; still naked on the floor she scooted back, toward the wall. I smirked, stalking her just as I'd done earlier. Now she was the little girl and I was the tooth hunter. But I didn't want teeth.

When I got close enough I lassoed her ankle with the yellow rope and yanked with everything I had. Before she could get her bearings I had her other ankle in a tight tiny harness. Anger and determination kept me from getting winded. Sweat beaded into my eyes and the skin on my hands was red and raw. I dragged her screaming, crying, and cursing across the floor. Using the fortified bedroom door as a pulley I stood on the other side with my foot pressed against it for leverage and pulled until I could hear Mirna's back sliding up the other side.

“Eva, child, this was all a mistake I swear. I know we can work something out if you just calm down and talk to me.”

Mirna went from cursing, to praying, to pleading and I ignored it all. I peeked around giving myself a silent high five. She was hanging upside down, just like I intended. After looping the rope around the doorknob, I taped her mouth and her eyes so I could tie her hands to the knob on her side without getting clawed to death.

My nose wrinkled; now that her ass was up in the air, unwashed sex and the aroma of sweaty hot lady bits wafted freely.

“Mirna, you and Kev left me with a bad feeling. You weren't good hosts. Earlier I asked you for a safe code.” I tsked at Mirna. “I think it's only fair that I return the favor and show you what it feels like. To be violated. Left with a bad feeling.”

My hands were so shaky I had to hold my breath when I lifted the turkey baster from the floor just outside the door. I did my best not to cringe or jump at the muffled gagging sounds Mirna made when my nervous icy fingers parted the lips of her sex. I undid the bulb on top of baster. The plastic tube was slick from the cooking oil I'd used to lube it with but it slid neatly inside her. Our little insemination was going torturously smooth. She was still for a breath of a second; her brain was trying to understand what was going on. It was the sensation of thousands of tiny legs running into her and all around inside of her at once.

“Fire ants, Mirna. Stay calm and I think they'll be calm, they think they have a nice new warm tunnel to explore. Tell me the code and I'll let you down and you can try to get them out before they start biting. One bites, they all bite. Okay?”

She barely nodded and I peeled back a corner of the tape on her mouth.

She rattled out the numbers shakily: “Thirty-six, thirty-seven, forty-three, sixty-two.”

I memorized her shaky rendition before putting the tape back over her mouth and patting it in place. I then turned and left humming to drown out the sounds of her muffled screams, and her body slamming into the door.
Too many baby teeth up there for her not to feel some teeth.

The study was the first place I checked. After clumsily knocking a painting off the wall and pulling hundreds of books out of the bookcase I gave up and moved to a different part of the house. The Maiden statue was no nicer close up than it was from a distance. There wasn't anything odd about it either except up close they weren't wood they were some kind of stone. Walking around the Guardian I flexed my fingers to ease some tension. Angry hopelessness was trying to sneak its way back into to the picture.
Maybe I should have yanked some fingernails until she told me where it was, too.

My eyes roved down the Guardian pausing at his crotch. Giggling, I rolled my eyes.
Up in here eye molesting a statue. Wonder what he'd have going on up under there if he was real though.
Leaning in close enough to smell acrylic paint mixed with museum musk, my eyebrows came together in a concentrated frown. There was the tiniest notch on the side of the Guardian's hip closest to the wall. It felt pervy as hell but it was the only way I'd find out if he was a safe or not. Running my hand along the front, side, and back of the statue I felt for something that felt safe-like. Something clicked toward the notch on his hip and the front of his chest opened. I tapped the numbers Mirna gave me into the keypad and my jaw hit the floor. If anybody was embezzling from anywhere it was this nigga and my cell phone was on top of that. Grabbing my supply purse I didn't even think. I just started bagging as much as I could.

The bishop's keys were hanging beside the garage door. If his study was that high-tech he'd better have a damn car charger. I pressed the garage door opener on the wall and headed toward the car.

A gruff voice called out, “I was expecting Kev.”

I jumped so hard the car keys fell out of my hand and I got an instant headache on top of the headache I already had. I almost got whiplash from snatching the keys up and snapping back to attention. The garage door had made so much noise opening I hadn't heard or thought to see if anyone was outside. All thoughts of company or a concerned neighbor coming over in the middle of the night vanished when I laid eyes on this fool looking like Dog the black bounty hunter. Momentarily stupefied I just stood there waiting for him manifest a bullwhip, handcuffs, and a pistol from underneath his black leather vest. On second thought his vest was actually a little too tight to hide anything, as were his matching leather pants. He jabbed a long, dark finger in my direction. “You must be Mirna?” he asked when I still hadn't moved or responded. “Grab Bishop for me, let him know Guinness is here.”

I offered a timid nod. “Um, Kev had an emergency and—”

“That's that bullshit! I knew he ain't have no girl who could do anal. Excuse my language but a black ho who can take it up the ass on film is like a damn unicorn. Even when they drugged up they ain't believable. Talkin' about he got one already broke in. I got his broke in. Gonna make me have a crew on standby for . . .” His words were lost on warm night air as he stomped craters into the driveway marching toward his black Navigator that was sadly blocking me in.

Did he just say all of what
. . .
So, what'd they think? They were about to sell me again and have someone making movies wit' my ass, literally.

My stomach did a somersault and I bit at the inside of my bottom lip to hide the instant look of hatred fighting to spread across my face. I could feel my cheeks flushing hot and probably turning red from anger. Guinness sneered like he'd just walked out of a jungle dragging a full-sized panther. The teary-eyed girl couldn't have been older than sixteen; she looked like a baby shuffling along fearfully behind him.
Please, don't tell me he wants to see Mirna do some kind of raunchy kinky mess right now. There's a hammer on that toolbox over there. Gasoline in the cans. I will tear him down and burn everything.

He all but flung her in my direction. She stood barefoot beside me in her filthy, tattered jean shorts and tank top shivering even though it was warm. It was too dark to tell if she was hurt and it wasn't the time to ask. My heart ached for her and the sooner he left the sooner I could help.

“You tell Kev Mr. Guinness came by. And Mr. Guinness said a deal is a deal.” The duffel bag landed with a solid thwap against the concrete. “Hoes who won't be missed ain't cheap, and they sure ain't easy to come by these days. Kev can just call this a custom order.” Guinness took a step toward me staring down the length of his round, bulbous nose at me. He ran his tongue over his top teeth sucking like he'd just finished off a whole plate of ribs.

“So, Mirna, if Kev don't get that message I'll be coming to make you a custom order.”

“Police; freeze, hands up where I can see them, nobody move.”

My knees felt like they were about to give out. The world would have gone black and I was sure I would have fainted if flashlights weren't shining directly in my eyes.

One of the police officers walked over. “There's been a report of a safe break in at his residence, are—”

I jumped on the opportunity. “It's him; get him, please, somebody get him. He's trying to kidnap us. I'm Mirna. I put the numbers in: thirty-six, thirty-seven, forty-three, sixty-two.”

Desperation had me in complete hysterics pointing wildly at Guinness with tears streaming down my face. The last thing I needed was for them to find Kevin dead and Mirna with her fire ant issue at the hands of my ex-con self. Add Guinness trying to sell some girl to Kevin and Mirna, and me standing here with the money. The whole thing would look like a complete mess with me stuck right in the damn middle of it. Words and explanations bumbled out of my mouth.

“It's just me and my niece; my husband is out of town. That man blocked my driveway, threatened us, and took my money; look in the duffle bag.”

All mayhem broke lose as they rushed Guinness who was in the process of trying to charge at me.