Page 19 of Pound of Flesh

Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I crouch down on the floor, riffling through my discarded clothes to find my cell phone. I’m surprised and relieved to see a message from Roger on the screen, and my numb fingers hurry to retrieve it.

Came up with the $

Tracked you north

Where the hell are you?

I cover my mouth to muffle my sob. Am I relieved or disappointed? My head hurts too much to tell. Right now, the man who crawled under my skin is an unknown, much as my heart screams the contrary. Insists I misunderstood what I heard. But Roger is familiar and safe. There’s no decision except to leave.

After punching in the name of the motel and finding out Roger is only twenty minutes away, I instruct him to pull around back when he arrives. Then I don my clothes in record time and climb out the tiny window, an ache already forming in the dead center of my chest.



My beautiful doll has been in the bathroom too long.

I heard her sniffling in the shower, and it made me crazy. She confuses me as much as she entices. One moment, she’s snuggling into my chest, the next her little nose is red and she’s upset. I don’t think I handled it well, either. No, if I had, I think she would still be tucked into my lap. Right where I need her. Or maybe she’d be spreading her legs again, offering up her cunt for more seed.

My cock throbs, the length of it tenting the front of my boxers. I reach in and start to stroke myself, but the pain and guilt I’m feeling over making Delilah cry forces me to stop and I slump myself down onto the bed. I continue to stare at the bathroom door, willing it to open so I can try speaking to her in a quieter voice.

What will I say, though? She nearly called me on my deception. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes her guess was correct. I don’t give a shit about the money Roger owes me. I never expected him to have it ready. Hell, I was counting on him being an irresponsible asshole so I would have an excuse to take Delilah instead. The sweet blonde I’d been burning for since watching her ride in circles on her bike three years ago. God knows I never could have charmed her into coming with me willingly. I don’t have an ounce of charm in my body.

Then again…I could be wrong. Delilah didn’t say she wants to leave me, right? Only that she wanted to see her brother from time to time. A conversation is what she asked me for. And I panicked. I panicked because I don’t know the right words to make her understand I’ve been waiting to be with her so long, I want to run down anyone who might remind her I’m not worthy.

Only, Delilah thinks I’m worthy. Maybe I need to trust her, because that’s the only way she’ll trust me in return.

When is she going to come out of the bathroom? I miss her. She felt so good sitting between my legs, and now I’m just empty. Regret over shouting at her and slamming the table is making it so I can’t even sit up straight. I need to cuddle her.


No answer.

My throat burns.

We need to leave the motel soon so I can meet the buyer I just spoke to on the phone about my Pontiac. I’ve got important things to worry about now, like making Delilah happy. Providing for her and our child, when the time comes. Until the garage is running and cash is coming in, I need the money the sale of my classic car will bank. After putting this particular buyer off for years, I’m finally going to let him take her—my Pontiac—off my hands.

Too restless to sit still and wait anymore, I stand up and knock on the bathroom door. “Delilah?” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”

Again, there’s no answer. A buzzsaw starts spinning inside my skull. The silent treatment doesn’t really seem like her style. No, she’s a passionate little thing. More the type to continue the argument or come flying out of the bathroom into my arms. Quietly moping doesn’t fit.

As soon as the certainty occurs, I raise my fist and bash it down on the doorknob, ripping the brass piece of shit clear out of both sides. When the door sways open to reveal an empty bathroom, I can barely believe what I’m seeing. She…ran away? No. NO. I-I didn’t mean to yell. The whole argument started and ended so fast…I can’t. I lost her? She left me?

A savage pain slices into my chest, stealing my breath and doubling me over. My knees threaten to lose power and send me crashing to the ground, but fear keeps me standing. My beautiful doll is out there somewhere on her own. Last time she ran away, a man tried to do something despicable to her. What if I’m not there to save her this time? She’ll be hurt or worse. Oh fuck. My vision goes black, clears, goes black again. Clears. She’s gone. She’s gone.