The Bouquet

Chapter 11

"Jackson, I am so disappointed in you." She tisked, shaking her head swiftly from side to side. "Give it to me."

He blinked slowly, his hand coming up to cup his aching ribs. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play fucking stupid with me Jackson, my phone, where is it?"

"I don't know where it is, I didn't touch it." He was telling the truth.

"Jackson, you know how much I hate liars, remember?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, a look of violent glee warming up in the depths of her cold eyes.

Yes, he did remember. The scars on his forearms ensured he wouldn't forget.

"I'll give you one more chance to be honest with me, and I think I am being very generous given the circumstances."

"It's your phone, I don't know where the fuck it is." He shot back, his voice rising slightly in irritation.

He was tired, in pain, and scared, he couldn't control his attitude. But the minute those words left his mouth he knew he made a mistake. The familiar cold chill of fear unfurled in his spine, his fingers tingling as his tongue anxiously swiped over his lower lip. He had fucked up.

Her face was quickly overcome by rage, her manicured nails digging into her skin as she balled her hands into fists. "You're really pushing your luck today, Jackson. If I didn't know any better I would think you liked being punished. Are you a dirty little masochist?"

"I'm not," He croaked, unshed tears burning at the corners of his eyes, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't take it."

She sighed through her nose, her fingers tracing the opening of her purse, "Sorry isn't going to cut it, you never seem to learn."

"No, no, no, no, no, please! I said I was sorry, what else do you want? I'm sorry!" He cried, not moving from his position. He knew it would only make things worse.

"What else do I want?" She asked, her voice stoic and cold, "I think I deserve a sincere apology don't you? I think I deserve to come home to a boyfriend who doesn't raise his voice at me and steal my things." She seethed, pulling the remote control from her purse.

"Please, I'll be good, I swear! I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry, so, so, so sorry!"

"Empty words mean nothing to me. I've given you chance after chance to correct your stupid fucking mistakes but you just keep fucking it up, don't you? I was easy on you last time, that was my fault. This is the only way you'll learn."

He squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for the pain, no matter how many times he had endured it, it never hurt any less. It was nothing like a dog collar, an unpleasant vibration. This was something else, something that took the breath out of his lungs and had him falling to his knees. It was like being tazed, and the controls were in the hands of your temperamental, sadistic kidnapper.

He held his breath in wait, anticipating the pain that was to come. But, when he heard the familiar click of the remote, there was nothing. He still flinched at the sound, trained to know that that noise was associated with pain. But no shock came.

He slowly opened his eyes, warily looking towards his captor. Instead of seeing that villainous, twisted grin he had become accustomed to, he saw panic. He saw fear.

Her eyes were wide with fright, all color had drained from her surprised features. She clicked the button again and again until she was rapidly flicking it on and off over and over again. And still, it refused to work.

Jackson's heart was violently thumping in his chest, a shot of adrenaline coursing through his body. It was that feeling of urgency, the realization that he was presented with his only chance to escape and he needed to take it now. He didn't think twice.