Legacy

Chapter 11: A Small Change

The man with green hair sits across from me at the table. His smile is sweet and his skin is intact.

"You've got a serious pair of balls," he says before sputtering blood and hunching over. I watch as his thick hair gets slightly shorter and turns black.

"Mason," I breathe.

He giggles as he grins at me the way he always does. "What in the hell happened to you, Sep? You just disappeared on me!"

I open my mouth to answer but-

"I believe I can answer that." Michael's voice surrounds me. I look around, frantically searching for him.

When my eyes come back to Mason a large knife is poking out of his chest. Blood is crawling across his shirt, staining it a dark red.

As a scream tears from my throat a pair of arms wrap around me. "Shh," Michael coos. "You don't need him anymore." His hands run over my abdomen. "We have our own problems to worry about now, sweetheart."

My stomach cramps worse than it does every month. I can feel my skin stretching as my belly begins to bloat like a balloon. A baby's cry rings through my head as it grows.

The pains get worse as the cramping pain turns to more of a stabbing pain. Michael covers my mouth as I scream.

My bellybutton pokes out and up. My flesh tears and a long blade slides out of my belly; the handle clutched in the baby's hand.

Michael's chuckle drowns out the crying of the baby.

~~~~~

I crash to the cold floor and land hard on my arm.

"Nightmare?" Michael's voice is completely monotone from across the room. As I sit up, I shake my head. He doesn't even look up from the doorframe he's working on. "What were you dreaming about, then?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I run my fingers through my hair to detangle it.

"Really?" He chuckles, causing a shiver to crawl up my spine. "You know you were touching yourself. Don't act like you weren't."

"I wasn't," I snap.

Michael roles his eyes and smirks up at me. "Kinda enjoyed our fun in the bath, did we?" I scowl at him. "I'd be more than happy to help you relive that experience, if you want."

Please, God. Give me the strength to overpower this man and get away. Please, God. Before he... he kills someone else.

I've never been very religious, but a silent prayer just might save me... I hope. I just know that Mason and his church are praying for me. Their wishes will keep me safe... in a way.

I climb back up to sit on the bed. "What are you doing to the door," I ask so we can change the subject. My shoulders pop as I stretch them up and across.

"I'm replacing it," he answers as a tiny screw clatters to the floor.

"Why?" I lay down and prop my head up on my palm.

Michael sighs and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes. "A barred door is easier to manage. It's stronger and it eliminates the option of you ignoring our," the hinge pops out of place and clatters to the floor, "guests."

He tosses the screwdriver to the floor and gets up to drag a large set of metal bars in the doorway. It looks too much like a door you would see in a prison.

Once the bars are in place, Michael begins to attach it... but not to the doorframe. I notice two similar sets of bars on either side, jutting out from the wall. I assume the doorframe wouldn't be strong enough to support the heavy iron door.

As if I needed more proof that I'm his prisoner. I'm totally at his mercy... so why hasn't he tried anything with me outside of punishments?

My stomach twists into a knot. "Look, if you're gonna impregnate me, just get it over with, you asshole."

Hopefully letting him rape me will distract him enough that he won't kill as often. Not my best idea, but my body is my greatest asset at this point.

He chuckles at the name I shot at him. "Is that consent, sweet September," he perks up with another smirk. "Because I have absolutely no issue with doing that." He shrugs. "Who knows? You might even enjoy it." A wink.

I role my eyes and move my body to face the wall. The white brick stares back at me. The cracks curve in odd directions and split off every once in awhile. If I follow one of them with my eyes, it's not long before the crack eventually stops.

Michael's hand lands gently on my waist and I hold my breath. He guides my body over so I'm laying flat on my back. His face is inches from mine and I close my eyes. The prickly hairs on his chin and upper lip scratch my skin. Those smooth lips brush against mine and I force myself to close my eyes and kiss him, releasing my breath in the process. His tongue slides between my lips and I feel the weight of his body as he crawls on top of me, one leg on either side of my hips.

My eyes slowly open and I see him fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, causing my muscles to suddenly stiffen. He pulls his lips away from mine as he tosses the jumbled shirt to the floor.

I blush as he grabs my hand by the wrist and guides it to the scar on his upper arm. He had removed the six stitches just yesterday.

Michael bites his lip sheepishly as I run my fingers over it. I feel the difference between the scar tissue and the smooth skin surrounding it. My eyes meet his as I start to feel sorry about the cut I gave him.

God, I had balls. Let's hope I still have them.

Our lips collide again and his hands run over my tiny frame until they reach my hips. I keep going, just to see how far he'll go. My guess is pretty far. It's not too long before those long fingers hook themselves under the hem of my shirt and start to yank it upward.

When my shirt comes up over my bellybutton, I shove his hands away on instinct.

The vision of the baby's fist closed around the knife flashes through my head and I cringe uncontrollably.

Michael breaks the kiss and slides off of me.

My cheeks are red hot as he crosses his arms over his hairy chest, a smirk stretched across his face. "You're such a tease." He shakes his head, running his thumb along his bottom lip. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy that."

I sit up and fold my arms across my chest, training my eyes on a couple tiny holes in my bedsheets. Michael's hand pats my shoulder gently. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it," he purrs.

"Hmm?" I role my eyes up at him.

"Whatever you dreamed about is bugging you. I can tell." He sits down on the rickety bed next to me.

"Or it could just be the fact that I'm being held captive in a stuffy basement by a serial killer who wants to get me pregnant and breed a whole new generation of serial killers, not to mention the addition of literal cell doors-"

"Oh my god, September breathe!" His hand clamps around my leg. I take in a slow breath and release it. "I think I have an idea of what the problem is." I look up at him. "You just need some fresh air."

Fresh air? Outside? This might not have been such a bad idea after all.

"Is it still summer," I ask, pushing my hair behind my ears. It's grown a little since he kidnapped me.

"It's almost August." He holds his hand out to me and I take it.