Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (reading strategies book TXT) 📕

“Go back to your room.”

“I need Teddy. I can’t sleep without him.”

Peter retrieved his toy, hushing the little boy and girl inside. “Izzie, go back to your room. Now. You don’t come out until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” The boy wrapped his toy bear to his chest and ran.

He watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, curled up in the covers. He envied the characters on screen. He looked at his arm, noticing the red marks, some of them were covered in plasters. Robin Hood and his merry men got to roam the forests, breathe in the natural air, fighting the bad men, helping the needy. He wanted to do that too, maybe when Peter and the others were finished with their tests, they’d release him.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Summer 2017

It always started off the same way. Her heartbeat was so relaxing to him, just watching her sleep was a pleasure in itself but that wasn't why he was here. He approached the bed, the axe in hand. She moved in her dreams, tumbling, restlessly sighing as she did so. He couldn't control his thoughts watching her like this. He wanted her limbs wrapped around his waist; his hand clutched around her throat whilst his hips pounded into her body. He leaned over the bed, slowly raising his axe. Her eyes snapped open. The jolt made him drop his weapon.

“You’re the lumberjack,” she said softly.

“You called me,” he replied. “Your pain is something I can’t ignore.”

“Really?” She reached up grabbing at his gas mask, ripping it free. “You're not him. You’re the Night Scrawler.”

“I’m, I'm sorry. I...”

“You’re pathetic.” She glared at the true face of her assailant. She pushed herself into his space, mashing her lips against his. She grabbed his shoulders manoeuvring his body, pinning him underneath. A smile danced across her mouth as she watched his expression glide between fear and desire. She pinched him and he winced in pain, pleading at her to stop. She walloped him across the face - he deserved a million of them.

You’re a bad person.

She told him to stop fighting her and doled out another slap. When he resisted, she slid down onto him. Their legs wrapped around each other like a contorted spider. A laugh echoed from her throat, she moved back and forth along his body, the pleasure glowing and growing in her belly. She swatted his greedy fingers as they tried grasping at her buttocks. He squirmed in shame, trying to suppress his moans.

You’re a sick twisted fuck.

Her fingers were intertwined with his as she rode him, never breaking her gaze. She laughed lightly between growls, shoving all of her hate and spite into him, hoping her movements would knock the lock in his conscience. She picked up the pace, her thighs slapping against his belly. His free hand slipped up her body, grabbing her breast. She shoved him deeper into the bed, grinding with all her might. He was beginning to convulse and shake inside her.

He took your father away…how could you do this?

As their bodies tightened, she felt that falling sensation, darkness pooled beneath her feet when she was ripped from her dream.

Stripe fell back against the covers, the moan still travelling from her throat. She heard the crystal crisp sound of Lorraine Thurman's voice seep through the stereo. Waking up in the real world, she was reminded of every gruesome little detail. At least being asleep has its perks. She roused her daughter for breakfast, cracking eggs over a pan whilst the baby twirled her tiny spoon in her oatmeal.

“We’re broadcasting live on this cold morning to announce that the father of Anna Crawford is scheduled to make a statement to the press. If you’re just tuning in, Anna was brutally murdered at the start of this week. Authorities have made the association that these awful killings are similar to the murders of the Night Scrawler back in the nineties-”

“Let’s try something else shall we.” Stripe changed the dial on the radio, to some classical music. She didn't want her daughter listening to poison. Let’s hope it will inspire something. Please nothing morbid or depressing. It’s all I need right now.

Her heart thundered when Isaac appeared in the kitchen. He was raking a towel through his coal black hair and steam rose from his pale skin, a nine-o’clock-shadow was growing across the lower half of his face. Facial hair suits him.

“I see you enjoyed the shower,” Stripe said, flipping the egg in the pan.

A look of a concern flashed on his face, it vanished when he locked eyes with their daughter.

“What’s the matter?” Stripe asked.

“Her glare,” Isaac replied. “It reminds me of you.”

Stripe sniggered, sensing a pit of dormant nerves bristling. God knows what he must think of me. He’ll have so many questions about you, and her. Father and daughter were identical, the dark hair, the ice blue eyes. It was disturbing yet beautiful at the same time. “She’s got stranger fear. All babies have it. Don’t be concerned. She hasn’t seen her daddy up close before.”

A flame of a smile glowed on his mouth. “I think Sofia suits her.”

“I'm glad you like it. I wasn’t sure what name to go with at first. Didn’t want something plain or something long and drawn out.” Stripe laid the breakfast on the table and they sat with Sofia in the middle, on her little throne. “Anyway, I'm sorry about last night.”

Isaac took a bite of his eggs. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m never normally… like that.”

“Like what?”

“Well you know, primal. I-I just didn't know what came over me.”

Isaac smiled warmly. “You don't need to apologise. I think we both enjoyed last night.” He glanced at Sofia, lowering his voice. “Can we not talk about bed stuff in front of her?”

“We’re babbling. It’s a language she can’t understand yet.”

“True, but you know what I mean.”

“I do.” She stabbed the yoke of her egg and watched it bleed onto the plate. “So, how have you