Page 47 of I Will Break You
One night, I awaken tangled in sheets and covered in sweat from erotic nightmares. My clit throbs so hard that I have to relieve the pressure with my fingers and bite down on my bottom lip to stifle my moans. Every dream involves the same creature—a masked and hooded figure with glowing eyes.
During bouts of lucidity, I type out transcripts of my viral videos to add to the manuscript, along with some of the worst troll comments. Since I can’t come up with a satisfying ending, I’m using a bit of creative license with a cyber-stalking subplot about an unknown copycat.
The transcribing goes well until my entire account gets banned for community guidelines violations again, making my videos, along with the troll comments I needed to pad out the manuscript, go poof.
All that bullshit I went through with Gavin was for nothing. I’ve lost my account, along with a large chunk of my cash.
Mom continues to keep me separated from Uncle Clive, but I catch glimpses of him sitting in the garden with his gaze fixed onmy window. Meanwhile, my stalker sends disturbing dick pics set against a black backdrop.
On the seventh day, she comes in under the pretext of changing my sheets and asks about my plans to return to Parisii Drive. I mumble something about needing a safe space to complete my manuscript. When she continues pressing me to leave, I ask her why Dad hasn’t come home, which has her rushing out.
That night, I bolt awake in the middle of the night to the thud of heavy footsteps. Cold air swirls around the room, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
Pins and needles prickle across my skin, awakening every nerve ending through the fog of drugs. My heart races in a sluggish rhythm, and my stomach roils with cold dread.
It’s happening again.
Every nightmare returns to full clarity. The Grim Reaper who haunts my dreams will step out of the shadows to demand answers. Then, after he’s interrogated me until my voice is hoarse, he’ll begin the sexual torment.
He’ll edge me until I’m on the brink of release, and then he’ll leave me humiliated, frustrated, and begging him to let me come. When I’m crying out for release, he’ll drag me into unconsciousness and return the next night to continue the eternal edging.
Just when I think I’m in sleep paralysis, I twitch my fingers, but they respond to my command. My eyes snap open to a dark figure obscured by one of my bedposts.
Alarm squeezes my chest. This isn’t the tall, hulking grim reaper who teases me in my sleep. He’s shorter, more slender, more sinister.
“Who’s there?” I ask, my voice catching.
Uncle Clive steps out from the shadows, the whites of his eyes glowing in the semi-darkness, his bony hands clutching a pillow. His tawny hair stands up at all angles like he’s run his fingers back and forth through his scalp the entire night.
I scramble back across the mattress until I’m pressed against the headboard, then I scream, “What are you doing?”
He rushes at me with the pillow and snarls, “I know what you did!”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Alderney State Penitentiary,
Dear Amethyst,
I will never get tired of hearing your sleepy, sultry voice. Before I die, I will have you wake up in my arms. Once I savor you with all five of my senses, I will know that everything I suffered was worthwhile, because I wouldn’t have otherwise enjoyed this moment of bliss.
The clip of you in the cream camisole will forever be seared in my mind. Your luscious breasts and beautiful pink pussy are but snippets of a portrait of perfection. May I see a complete nude?
I can’t tell you in writing how I smuggled in a penis molding kit. Let’s just say the guards only get to read my incoming mail. The volume of correspondence I receive is too vast for them to scrutinize every piece.
Your letter is the only one that makes my heart skip. Everyone else’s goes into a pile that I donate to other prisoners.
The offer my father made that he would come to regret is a long story, involving corruption and conspiracies that stretch across the higher echelons of society. After sharing this information, you will never look at men in power the same way.
It involves children being forced to commit the most heinous acts of depravity. Are you sure you want to be burdened? If the wrong people knew you had this information, they would stop at nothing to ensure your silence.
Let me know how you wish to proceed. I will deny you nothing, but you must know that obtaining this information comes with risks.
Xero
P.S. How is your memory, now that you’ve stopped taking the medication?
TWENTY-EIGHT