Candyman by Jas T. Ward

Author:Jas T. Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Shadow-Keepers, Jas T. Ward, Paranormal, Science-fiction, Reno Sundown
Publisher: Ink-N-Flow Publishing
Published: 2013-12-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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IT WAS MONTHS.

Long, torturous months that Jess put me away alone in the dark and the cold. But he changed the terms of my imprisonment.

See, after that day, that one wonderful night, Jess and Emma got together. He used the night I gave her to start a relationship. You know, one of those bittersweet love stories you read about in those cheesy novels? Yeah. That.

While that was painful enough, it wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst part was he punished me for being with her, for coming out and taking control—something I still didn’t know how I did—by teaching the most painful lesson possible in the most painful way he could.

I got to see and hear everything. Everything that mattered.

So as I sat in the hole, in the dark and cold, it would suddenly all play out like a projection on the walls in full color and sound for me to be tortured by.

So unlike the century before, when I would go into a numb and unknowing stasis for months, I was made to watch the woman I loved, the only woman I had ever been with, fall in love with a man I was learning to hate with a murderous vengeance.

I had to see every laugh and smile from her to him. See every kiss, hug, and touch. And even worse than that?

I had to watch them make love. I closed my eyes every time and wrapped my arms around my head, rocking and screaming to please make it stop. But the sounds I could always hear. Her crying out his name, her moans, and his, all of it—sound and picture—in stereo because I had no escape; there was nowhere to go.

My torture took its toll. If Jess was teaching me a lesson that he would make me hurt if I took something from him, I learned it. That created a new goal for me—make him hurt as much as he was hurting me.

So when I did get to drive, I made it as painful and as violent as possible. I wanted him dead and didn’t care if that meant I died, too. We were stabbed, beaten, bloodied, and got gutted a few times.

But even that came back at me for whom did he go to for healing, care, and tenderness? My. Witch.

I got to see that, too.

Every time I was out, once the obsessive need to hurt him faded, I would think to go to Witch and explain it all to her. But with the wane of that need came a calm, and I would be right back inside. He had gotten very good at keeping me leashed.

And I hated him even more for that.

So as those months went by, I hated him more and more. And he hated me. It was at least mutual. The only bright spots—those times when they would eat dinner, share lunch, or watch a movie—were also the most painful spots. I saw it all from his eyes, and

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