Chapter 28: Chapter 28: Wig Twisting Season
The moonlight filtering through the curtains casts a soft glow on Jason's sleeping form, nestled against my bare chest. I inhale deeply, savoring his familiar scent mingled with the clean aroma of soap from his recent shower. My arms tighten around him instinctively, as if my embrace alone could shield him from the horrors he's endured.
"You're safe now," I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. My voice catches in my throat as tears begin to well up. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should have protected you."
Jason stirs slightly but doesn't wake. His peaceful expression belies the trauma he's experienced, and a wave of guilt washes over me. How could I have let him out of my sight at that damned haunted house?
I trace my fingers lightly along his arm, marveling at the warmth of his skin against mine. The intimate contact after weeks of agonizing separation overwhelms me with a bittersweet ache.
"I missed you so much," I murmur, nuzzling his hair. "I'll never let anyone hurt you again, I swear it. I won't ever let you out of my site again."
My mind drifts to the passionate lovemaking we'd shared earlier. It had been tender, almost reverent, so different from our usual dynamic. I'd been hesitant to initiate anything, worried about triggering painful memories for Jason. He looked devastated that I would be so gentle, but… I just want him to feel so cherished.
"Erica," he'd breathed against my lips. "Please... I need to feel you. To know this is real."
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. The relief of having him back in my arms wars with the rage simmering beneath the surface. Someone had dared to touch what was mine, to violate and traumatize my precious boy.
"I love you," I whisper fiercely, cradling Jason's sleeping form. "More than anything in this world. You're everything to me, Jason."
As I hold him close, I make a silent vow. 'I will heal him with my love and protect him with every ounce of my strength. I've been lazy. I've been too easygoing. He could have been killed. I will never allow something like this to happen again. Momma should be the one taking eye's not my beautiful boy.'
I'm startled from my thoughts by the sudden vibration of my phone. Carefully, I reach for it, trying not to disturb Jason. The screen illuminates with a message from my mother:
(I sent you all the videos you asked for. These are really bad. Much worse than we thought. I really don't think you should watch them.)
My heart races. The surveillance footage. I've been waiting for this, dreading it, craving it. I need to see to understand what Jason went through. But Mom's warning makes me hesitate.
Gently, I slip Jason's head off my chest, replacing my body with a pillow. He stirs slightly but doesn't wake. I pause, watching him, torn between staying and seeking the truth.
"I have to know," I think, steeling myself. "For both of us."
I pad quietly to my computer, slipping on headphones. As I upload the files, my hands tremble. I open the first video file, my heart pounding. The grainy footage shows a dimly lit room, sparse and clinical. In the center, Jason sits on a chair, his wrists bound behind him. My breath catches at the sight of his exposed, vulnerable form.
Then, she enters the frame. Lindsey wearing a cheap blonde wig and blue contacts. The bitch who dared to impersonate me, to violate my Jason. Rage boils in my veins as I watch her saunter towards him, swaying her hips in a poor imitation of my walk.
"Oh my god, did I actually get kidnapped? Erica finally did it? That's so cool" I hear my baby say something very much like him.
Suddenly I wonder to myself. 'Wait he's always wanted to be confined like this. Is there a world where he wanted this kind of thing from Lindsey?'
As I scrub through, I see Lindsey put a blindfold on him. I watch her suck and fuck my fiance. If she wasn't already dead, I would have killed her myself. I sigh low, trying not to wake up Jason, and I decide to scrub through all 14 days' worth of footage tonight. We're not going to school tomorrow anyway.
*****
I stare at the screen in shock, my heart pounding as I watch the gruesome scene unfold. Jason, my sweet, gentle Jason, is straddling Lindsey's lifeless body, plunging a large knife into her face over and over again with savage intensity. The sound of metal striking flesh and bone fills my headphones.
"What if she hates me!" Jason screams, his voice raw with anguish. "What if she can't even look at me anymore!"
Each thrust of the blade is punctuated by a guttural cry. Blood splatters across his pale skin, mixing with the newly haunted look in his eyes. I feel... empty. Hollow. I should be elated that Lindsey is dead, that Jason fought back. But something gnaws at me, an unsettling realization I can't shake.
As I scrubbed through more footage, my suspicions grew. In between bouts of isolation and fear, I caught glimpses of... anticipation? Excitement, even? When Lindsey or Lyra entered his cell, there's a flash of eagerness in Jason's eyes before he cools his expression.
During their sexual encounters, his responses seem too enthusiastic and too genuine. He arches into their touch and moans with apparent pleasure. It's subtle, but I know every nuance of Jason's body language. This isn't just survival instinct or Stockholm syndrome.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head in denial. "He couldn't have... wanted this?"
I fast-forward through days of footage again, watching Jason's mental state deteriorate. The moments of terror become rarer, replaced by a dead stare while he's confined and sex. By the time he snaps and kills Lindsey, It seems like he had zero resolve left. It's surprising he was able to do it all.
Tears stream down my face as I close the video files. I feel betrayed, confused, and utterly lost. How can I reconcile the Jason I thought I knew with this complex, damaged person?
I glance back at the bed where he sleeps peacefully, looking so innocent and vulnerable. My love for him hasn't diminished, but it's tangled now with doubt and a fury I've never felt before.
"I'll fix this," I vow in a panic. "I'll fix this right now."
With a fierce determination in my heart, I walk over to my bed and mount Jason. He stirs, his hazel eyes fluttering open in surprise. He's about to speak, but I silence him with a finger pressed gently to his lips. Tears of anger spill down my cheeks, betraying the turmoil within me.
"Shh," I whisper hoarsely, guiding his already rock-hard cock into my waiting pussy. I begin to ride him, my hips moving with a fierce, almost desperate rhythm. The intimacy of the act feels like a balm to my fractured soul, yet it does little to quell the storm raging inside me.
Without warning, I wrap my hands around Jason's neck, squeezing tighter than I ever have before. His eyes widen in shock, but the fear quickly fades, replaced by a deeply held love for me. Despite his vulnerable position, he gently rubs my neck and cheek, silently offering comfort.
The pressure on his throat intensifies, and I can feel him struggling to draw breath. His hands drop to my waist, trying to slow the violent rhythm of our lovemaking. But I'm lost in the maelstrom of emotions, my actions driven by a primal need to possess and protect him.
"How could you!" I scream lifting the veil of my anger. My voice barely recognizable through the sobs that wrack my body. "After everything I've done, how could you let her touch you like that?" My nails dig into his skin, leaving angry red marks on his neck.
Jason's face contorted in pain, but his eyes never leave mine. He tries to speak, but the words are choked off by my relentless grip. The harder I squeeze, the more desperate he becomes to talk.
Yet, even as I lash out at him in anger and betrayal, my body responds to him in a way that I can't control. Each tortured gasp from his mouth sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I can feel myself teetering on the edge of release. It's a twisted, perverse response, and I hate myself for it even as I give in to the sensation.
As the first wave of my orgasm crashes over me, I tighten my grip even further, my teeth gritted in a feral snarl. Jason's eyes roll back in his head, and for a moment, I fear that I've gone too far. But then, with one final, desperate effort, he manages to force out a single word: "Erica."
My name on his lips is like a bucket of cold water, snapping me out of the dark spell that had taken hold of me. I release my grip on his neck, and he gasps for air, his body shaking with the effort. Tears stream down his face, mixing with the sweat beads on his forehead.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice thick with guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry, Jason."
Jason's chest heaves with sobs, his entire body trembling beneath me. He clings to my bare chest, his fists tightening around my sides as if trying to ground himself. "I didn't want them," he choked out, his voice barely audible. "I never wanted to be taken like that by someone else. I just... I just wanted you to confine me, to make me feel safe."
My heart aches at his words, and I stroke his hair, trying to soothe him even as my own guilt threatens to consume me. "I know, baby," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I know you didn't want that."
Jason takes a shuddering breath, his eyes screwed shut as if trying to block out the memories. "It's... it's impossible to understand what sitting alone in a room for days does to your head. The only time I even still felt alive at all was..." He trails off, his voice breaking on a sob.
I tighten my arms around him, holding him close as if I could somehow absorb his pain. "Shh, it's okay," I murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Jason takes another deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "The first chance I got, I killed Lindsey," he says, his voice low and intense. "I did it to prove my love for you. I did it to show them that I belong to you and no one else. I was so afraid you'd hate me for being raped by them."
The thought of him going so far to show his love for me. It makes me so proud of him. Proud that he was willing to do whatever it took to protect himself and prove his devotion to me.
With trembling hands, I gently lift Jason back onto my chest, cradling him against me as we both dissolve into tears. His body shakes with silent sobs, and I can feel the dampness of his tears on my skin. I stroke his hair softly, my fingers tangling in the messy brown strands.
"Shh, it's okay," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry for doubting you and for accusing you of cheating. I was wrong, so terribly wrong."
Jason's arms tightened around me, his fingers digging into my sides as if he were afraid I'd disappear. I continue to murmur soothing words, rocking him gently as our tears mingle.
"What you did to Lindsey, what you did to Lyra... that was proof enough of your loyalty, your love," I say, my voice wavering. "You fought so hard, my brave, beautiful boy. You survived, and you came back to me."
I pull back slightly, cupping his face in my hands. His hazel eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, but there's a glimmer of hope in their depths that makes my heart swell. I brush my thumbs across his cheeks, wiping away the tears.
"Listen to me, Jason," I say, my voice low and intense. "You're never leaving my sight again. Never. I can't bear the thought of losing you, of anyone else touching you or hurting you. From now on, where I go, you go. Do you understand?"
Jason nods, a small, tremulous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yes," he whispers hoarsely. "I don't want to be apart from you ever again. I need you, Erica."
Relief washes over me, and I pull him close again, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. "I'll keep you safe," I promise fiercely. "No one will ever hurt you again. I swear it."
We lie there for a long moment, our breathing slowly syncing as the storm of emotions begins to calm. The room is quiet save for the soft rustle of sheets and the distant hum of the air conditioning. Moonlight spills across the bed, bathing us in its ethereal glow.
Finally, Jason shifts slightly, tilting his head to look up at me. His eyes are clearer now, filled with a warmth that makes my breath catch. "I love you," he says softly, his voice rough but sincere. "I love you so much, Erica. You're my everything."
"I love you too, Jason." As I spoke, I couldn't help but notice the dark purple hand prints forming perfectly on his throat. It seems I went too far when I choked him. But it's okay. Any mark of mine is proof of my love for him. I'm sure he will gladly show it off because he's a little crazy, too.
'Fuck his mom might hate me though if she see's it. I'll garb him a turtle neck tomorrow.'
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