Fan Fiction by VTW
|Peter whipped his head around. "What are you talking about, boy?" He
was amazed to see Todd up on his feet. He was staring a hole through him
and looked lucid and in complete control.
Pete laughed harshly. "Boy?" He sneered. "I know you're not talking about me, are you? That title is reserved for that idiot Todd, or maybe that fool Tom, it sure as hell isn't me. I haven't been a boy in a long, long time."
He shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it on a foldout chair. He stood clad in a tight white tee shirt and faded jeans. His star tattoo was on full display, only adding to his ominous appearance. He flexed his shoulders and grinned whitely. "Hey, you mind if I bum a smoke?"
Peter inclined his head slightly. He watched him like a hawk. What the fuck was he up to? "Go ahead," he said roughly.
Pete casually crossed the room and opened the cigar case. He pulled one out, inhaling its aroma. "Nice brand," he remarked, rolling it between his fingers. He put his hand in his pocket and produced a stick match. "Never leave home without one of these," he joked lightly.
He put a booted foot up on the card table and struck the match off the bottom of the sole. Peter never saw Pete reach in and slide his switchblade out from the side of his boot. He slipped the blade in his pocket. He cupped his hands around the flame and coolly puffed until the cigar was burning nicely. He took a long drag and held it in his lungs, then slowly released it through his mouth. The smoke curling around his head looked sinister. He stared at Peter steadily. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Peter rapped out. He shifted uneasily. The way Pete was staring at him was unnerving. He wasn't one bit nervous or rattled. The opposite in fact, he was enjoying the cigar and looked cool and remote.
"Well I wanna fuck her," he enunciated as if he were talking to a stupid child.
Clarice was breathing rapidly. She could not believe what she hearing. Everything seemed surreal. "What are you talking about Thomas," she whispered helplessly.
Pete pointed a finger at her. "Shut-up," he said in a low voice. "There was never any Thomas. Ever." He spread his hands and smiled. "Like what you see, Clarice? This is the real and only me." He was standing with both hands at his hip, in a male, arrogant stance. His eyes were like lasers and they pinned her like a moth to a card.
Clarice shook her head. "No," she trembled. Tears were rolling down her face.
He tipped his head to the side; he had the cigar clamped in between his white teeth and narrowed his eyes through the smoke. "Yes," he whispered sarcastically. He threw back his head and laughed. It was deep and throaty.
Peter was watching the exchange avidly. "Tell me Pete, just what the hell makes you think I'd let you do her?"
Pete turned his attention back to Manning. He dropped the cigar and ground it out with his foot. He raised an eyebrow. "Because I know you want Todd's money, so do I. And guess what? I'm the only one who knows how to get to it."
Peter stared keenly. "I'm listening."
"A couple of months ago I moved his funds. They're in about ten different accounts in the Cayman Islands, earning a shitload of interest. All tax free, of course. I'm the only one who knows the numbers to those accounts. Don't bother trying to find out where I have them written. It's all in my head. They're burned into my memory. And you know I have a lot of things goin' on in my head," he joked. His smile faded abruptly. "If you wanna see one fuckin' dime of that money. You better plan on having me for a partner. Because a fuckin' nut house just isn't my idea of a good time."
Peter glared at him. He tried one more tack. "I thought you cared so much for the girl and your kid?"
Pete shrugged indifferently. "Todd did. I could give a rat's ass about the kid or Clarice. But I do want to fuck her though." He tilted his chin in Clarice's direction. He smiled nastily. "And I know you like to watch, Manning. I know just how much it turns you on," he whispered. "Come on," he urged. "Slide those keys to the bitch's chains on over here."
Peter bit his lip. For now he'd have to go along.
Besides, he did have a dark thrill running through him at the thought of the both of them taking turns with the woman. He took the key from his pocket and kicked it across the floor to Pete.
Without taking his eyes of off Manning, Pete bent down and picked up the small key. He rose slowly and advanced towards Clarice. His eyes were locked on hers; his tread was slow and deliberate.
Clarice stared hypnotized. She leaned back against the pole as far as she could. "Please, Thomas I know you are there," she begged.
He stopped about a foot from her. "Call me by my real name," he said roughly. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Say it," he commanded softly.
"Pete," Clarice said faintly.
He briefly closed his eyes. "That's good, Clarice. I knew you were a smart girl." He reached out and lightly ran his knuckle down her cheek. He brushed his fingers down her collarbone, in between her breasts, and on down to her stomach. He kept his eyes fixed on her, inspecting every emotion that raced across her face.
He ran his hand back up and circled the burn around the side of her breast. He bunched his jaw. His eyes narrowed darkened. He looked scary and ominous.
Clarice bit her lip and trembled, bowing her head in shame. Peter Manning was leaning against the wall watching. His eyes were feral, like a wild animal. God, please don't let this happen.
Pete moved in closer, until he was straddling her and the pole between his legs. He lightly rubbed his hips into hers, biting the side of her neck. He wrapped his arms behind her back to unlock the padlock that was securing the heavy chain.
She moaned in terror and shook violently. He was going to rape her. She stood passive and waited.
He slid his open mouth against her ear. "I'm going to get you out of here, Clarice," he whispered urgently. "Please just go along with this. It's our only chance, do you understand, baby? I need you to get Starr out of here. I love you I love you. I would die before I'd let Manning touch you."
Clarice sagged against him sobbing in relief. "Thomas?" She whispered back.
Todd glanced up at Manning who was watching intently. He ground his hips into Clarice's a little harder, grinding against her crudely and letting his hands roam insultingly all over her back and buttocks. "No, honey. Not Thomas. I'm Todd and I'm Pete. I don't know where one of us ends and the other begins. This is who I am."
I am you and you are me. He finally understood it. Todd and Pete blended together. The best and worst sides. Making up one whole person.
"But, I swear on my life. The three of us will walk out of here," he whispered in her hair. He worked the key into the lock and opened it. The heavy chain dropped. Clarice sighed in relief as the Todd removed her from the shackles. He closed his long fingers around her wrists and rubbed them, working the circulation into them. He looked at her worriedly; his stomach churned at was he was about to do. He silently pleaded with her to forgive him.
Clarice slightly nodded. She understood and forgave.
Todd glared at her and yanked her to him. "I've been waiting a long time for this, baby." He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her roughly, biting at her lips and rubbing his open mouth all over her face.
Clarice moaned and struggled. Kicking her bare feet against his calves.
He grabbed her wrists holding them in his one hand. "Go ahead, fight me. I love it." He laughed in her face. He picked her up and walked across the room a couple of feet from where Starr was being kept. He dropped her and pushed her against the concrete wall. He pinned her with his body and breathing harshly, began to simulate raping her. He eyes were locked on Clarice's. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he chanted desperately. Tears of helplessness ran down his face. He felt like a monster, a destroyer a rapist.
Clarice saw the devastation in his eyes, the guilt and the self-loathing. She lightly touched her mouth to his. "I love you, and I will never stop. Do you understand me? We are doing this for us for your child, Todd," she whispered. Clarice knew how much danger they were in, his child was in peril and that was unacceptable. Peter would kill Starr and feel no remorse. She trusted him with their lives.
Todd clenched his jaw and stopped. He was out of breath and trembling violently. Getting his emotions under control, he turned around. His expression was blank and cold. "Your turn I believe," he said remotely.
Peter grinned. "Why I do believe it is, Pete." He strutted over, his face a mask of pure undiluted evil. "I am gonna rip you open, kitten," he said softly.
Todd smiled a white, toothy grin. He waited until Peter crossed in front of him. He yanked the gun out from the back of his waist, and held it hard against the side of Peter Manning's temple. "Wrong again, motherfucker. Get ready to die," he snarled into his ear.
|To be continued...|
Peace and Love,
Email The Author
Back to Remember Roger Howarth