Chapter 15: Little Stranger: Part 2 – Chapter 15

I pause, my lungs halting, my heart restarting as I stay still, as if I just imagined her saying my name. Did she? Or is it her voice in my head again? When I was locked up, I always had conversations with her, but never real ones. I was losing my fucking mind and deluded myself into thinking she was lying beside me some nights.

“Malachi,” she says again, and I pulse inside her, pushing my arm straight so I can get off her.

But she traps me by wrapping her legs around my waist, her lips parted as she erratically looks at my eyes again. Her shaky hand lifts, and I don’t pull away as she slides the balaclava over my chin, my mouth, my nose, then removes it completely.

My black hair, long and falling over my eyes, catches her attention. She brushes her hand through it, her legs still tightly wrapped around my hips as a tear slips from the corner of her eye.

Her gaze follows her fingers, dropping from my hair to trace one of my brows, down the side of my face to my jawline, grazing over the stubble to my lips.

Mesmerized.

Like she hasn’t seen me in over eight years.

I mean, she hasn’t, but I expected her to scream at me to get off her or hit me, to curse at me for what I’ve done—not to do… this. She’s tracing my facial features.

I’m letting her. Instead of making her pay for ruining nearly a decade of my life, I’m letting her touch me so freely, and I love it.

I’m all warm and tingly and I… like it.

Her fingertips are soft. I’ve been so deprived of touch while being locked up that when her palm cups my cheek, I press against it.

“You can talk,” she says, her bottom lip trembling. “You can… You can talk, Malachi.”

I stare down at her, my lips moving but no sound coming out. I shake my head—then freeze all over when she lifts her head and kisses me. Her lips are so fucking smooth and addictive, and I relax into the kiss and part my lips, allowing her tongue to slip in to move against mine. Her taste, her fucking kiss—I had no idea I needed it so much.

She rocks her hips up, and I meet her movements with a slow thrust, both of us gasping into each other’s mouth. She grabs a fistful of my hair and tilts my head to deepen the kiss while I slowly move in and out of her.

She’s soaked, gripping my cock, but I’m more focused on her kissing me, the way she whimpers and fists my hair, the way she controls this as she pushes me off her and climbs on top of me.

Olivia looks like a fucking angel as she straddles my hips, lifting to her knees to hover over my cock then lowering herself so I fill her again. Her hands are on my chest, digging into the thick muscles there as she bounces on my cock. I hold her hips, fucking up into her cunt, gritting my teeth as a deep growl rips from my throat.

She cries out above me, her pussy gripping me like a fist as she slams down onto my thickness, scraping her nails down my chest as her inner walls clutch me through her orgasm. She’s shaking but still bouncing on my cock, taking control as she drops and grinds.

“I want to hear you moan again,” she says, leaning down to grab my throat, dropping her hips on me faster, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Let your little sister hear your voice. I want to feel the vibrations in your throat while you moan for me, Malachi.”

Her forceful words, the way she cuts off my oxygen, and how hard she’s slamming down on my cock makes my balls tighten. I came not long ago, what the fuck is happening?

I go dizzy as I let out another moan and grab her shoulder, keeping her still as I pulse every drop of cum deep inside her.

She collapses on top of me, and I hold her in my arms, my heart pounding in my chest, sweating between us, gasping to draw air into my lungs.

After about ten minutes, she sits up, looking down at me. “Jesus, Malachi. What the hell are you doing?”

She could be asking me a number of things here.

Why did you fuck me while I was unconscious?

Why did you shove a screwdriver in my ass?

The chains? The spider? The cuts and bites and burn marks?

So many questions, and all I can do is watch her above me, calling me by my name, willingly on my cock, and looking all beautiful and mine.

But then I remember our reality, and what she thinks I did to her years ago.

“Anna… lied,” I force out, feeling the rage already coming when I think about that bitch and how I stupidly didn’t snap her neck as soon as I was free.

“She lied?” Olivia asks, her brow furrowing.

I nod, twirling my finger around a lock of her hair. “You w-w-w…” I stop, shaking my head in annoyance. It was way easier to talk with my identity hidden.

“Take your time,” she says, smiling down at me, capturing my hand as I pull it away from her hair and linking our fingers. “I could listen to your voice all day. Just… breathe. I’m listening. Go slow.”

“You w-were my first. I pr-promise. My… first and… my only.”

At least she isn’t laughing at the way my speech is. She’s being patient.

“I had a feeling it was all lies. My friends went a little weird on me after the allegations about us, and our parents made me deny that we were ever intimate. I… hated you for what you did to Dad, but I missed you. I even had a feeling it was you all along, but I wanted you to punish me. You wouldn’t have been locked away if it wasn’t for me testifying.”

Then she frowns and slaps my chest. “You put a damn spider on me, asshole!” She points at her body, the burned initials with raised brows. “Really? And what took you so long? You were released months ago.”

I grin and lift my hands, signing, I was waiting until the right time to show myself.

She snatches my wrists and shakes her head. “No. Use your voice. Talk to me.”

“I’m…” I stop, nervously licking my lips. “Not good at that.”

“You were perfectly fine whispering a nursery rhyme in my ear while your monster crawled all over my body.”

“You came,” I say with a shrug. “You… liked it.”

She grins wide. “It’s so deep.”

“Yeah.” I lift my hands again. “Let me… s-s-sign this.”

She nods and watches my hands.

I’m not sorry for beating up Dad. He made my life hell for no reason. I do miss Mom, though, and I know we have a little sister. She seems nice, but I don’t plan on speaking to her

“She is nice,” she says. “I think you’d like her. She’s quite talkative and full of energy.”

Then I’d hate her.

She rolls her eyes. “You were the one leaving chocolates and flowers in my house?”

Yes, I sign. I also fucked you while you were unconscious on your bathroom floor.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you sign that.”

You wrote in your journal that you wanted to experience somnophilia. You came on my cock and everything. Tick it off your little list.

She flattens her lips. “Fine. Where are we?” she asks, changing the subject.

This is our home. I’ll renovate and decorate it. I knew you wanted to live somewhere secluded, and when I saw this, I used the money Mom gave me to buy it. We live here now. I know neither of us want kids, but if you ever do, there are spare rooms I can decorate. I’ll even get a dog if you—

She grabs my hands to stop me, and I furrow my brows.

“Malachi,” she says, her face going ghastly pale. “I don’t want to live here.”

I pull my hands free. Do you want to live somewhere else? I can sell—it’s fine. We can be together wherever you want.

“No.” She moves off me. “I mean… I don’t want to live here… with you. Or anywhere with you. What’s happened since the festival doesn’t change the fact you nearly killed Dad. I don’t forgive you for that.”

My heart sinks. “Why?”

“Why?” she asks, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Are you really asking me that? Because I don’t love you. I’m… We… No, Malachi.”

“Y-You don’t lo-love me?” I stutter the words, but I don’t fucking care. She’s a liar. She’s lying, and I refuse to fucking take it.

I get off the bed and walk over to my combats, pulling my phone out. It takes me less than five seconds to find one of the voicemails she left me, and I play it while she sits up on the bed.

Sniffles, and then… “Malachi, where are you?” She sobs, as if she’s hyperventilating. “I can’t find you anywhere. Mom said you were released a few weeks ago—why haven’t you come for me?”

She’s crying, and I watch as her frown flattens, her shoulders hunching as she listens to herself, and she looks away as the voicemail keeps playing.

“I’m so, so sorry I didn’t protect you. I should have told everyone what you meant to me, and I didn’t. I was scared of the backlash, and everyone said you were vulnerable and that you were sick, that your obsession with me was down to you wanting to own something—someone. Me. And I was scared they were right.”

She sniffs some more. “I want to know if anything was ever real for you. Any of it. If you tell me you love me, that I mean the world to you, then I’ll admit that I feel the exact same. Because I do, Malachi. I love you so much it hurts.”

I shut off the voicemail, and step forward, my body shaking with rage. “It was r-r-real. All o-of it was r-real. Everyth-thing was real. You mean th-the world t-t-to me. But you won’t s-s-say it back, w-will you?”

She lowers her head and shakes it, and I feel like my entire world just collapsed.

Olivia’s slipping through my fingers. What the fuck do I do?

“I am sorry,” I say, fucking up the enunciation but who the fuck cares? “The spider. The knife. The cameras. All o-o-of it. I’m sorry.” I close my eyes and blow out a breath. “I need you, Ol—” I stop, my heart racing so fast, I think it might stop.

“I don’t need you,” she murmurs, and I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the chest. “I’m getting married soon, Malachi—I signed an agreement. I can’t back out. I won’t. We have no chance in this life—don’t you see?” She stands, and I gulp and step back as she wraps the duvet around her body. “Society would never accept us.”

I grip the phone in my hand. “Fuck society.” I don’t think my words have ever been clearer than right now. “Fuck everyone against us.”

“You don’t even know how to love properly. Your diagnosis proves that. Why would I give up a marriage for someone who can never feel the same way about me?”

I stay quiet, because she’s right.

My version of love isn’t enough for her—I love her, I do, but how am I supposed to know what’s normal and what’s not? My world revolves around her and always has. And if that’s not a good-enough version of love for her, and I can’t make her happy, then what’s the point?

She goes through the dresser, shaking her head when she sees it’s filled with clothes I bought for her over the last few months. She puts on underwear, slides yoga pants on, then grabs some other items.

She pulls on a shirt, buttons it up to her neck to hide the marks I gave her, then sits on the edge of the bed as she fixes her hair over her shoulder and puts on some socks.

I stay against the wall, my hands behind me, and try to think of everything possible to make her stay. Willingly. I want Olivia to choose me.

Please choose me.

Nobody ever chooses me.

She stands, slips on her shoes, and wipes under her eyes. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you,” she says, her head down. “Mom will want to know where I’ve been the last few days, so I’ll need to lie and make up a story. If you let me leave, I’ll forget this ever happened. Don’t be difficult about this, Malachi. I’m leaving one way or another.”

I can’t answer. I just look at the ground as she moves towards me then stops. “Goodbye, Malachi. Please take care of yourself. Please.”

Something weird is happening to me. My chest is sore, and my eyes feel immense pressure, and they’re… wet. I think I might be crying for the first time in my life.

She opens the door, but I rush in front of her, blocking her exit as I drop to my knees and grab her hands. “Olivia,” I whisper clearly. “Please don’t leave me. Please stay with me.”

Her sadness is all over her face—she’s looking at me like I’m the one breaking her heart, her eyes following a tear as it slides down my cheek.

“Please,” I beg. “Accept my v-version of love. Pl-ease. I love you, Ol-l-l—”

Olivia doesn’t tell me she loves me back, or that she’ll stay. She just gives me a warm smile and pulls her hand away before squeezing past me.

I don’t turn around to watch her walk out of my life for good.