Gravlander by Erik Wecks

Author:Erik Wecks [Wecks, Erik]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-24T23:00:00+00:00

Twenty minutes later, Jo sat in a chair next to Chapman, watching him as he lay on the bed. She shivered a little in the cold, dirty, rock-carved motel room she had made her home for the last forty-eight hours. In contrast, the pimp lay perfectly still. Only his shallow breathing and rapidly moving eyes gave away that he was still self-aware. His lack of movement felt uncanny to Jo, and it only added to the sick feeling in her stomach.

Sitting just beyond the reach of Chapman’s roving eyes, Jo leaned forward, her hands folded together between her knees. She kept quiet while she tried to gather the courage to finish what she had started. She knew she was doing herself no favors by continuing to watch Chapman’s breathing and desperate eyes. In order to steel herself to finish the job, she ought to look away, but to avert her gaze felt dishonest. If she were to find the courage to do this thing, she felt that she had to do it honestly, without shying away from its horror.

In order to preserve her cash, Jo had spent the last two nights in the coldest, most flea-bitten motel she had ever laid eyes on. It had taken all her will to sleep behind the flimsy plastic door inserted into the frigid rock—will and some help from the sketchiest auto-doc Jo had ever seen. Even as a trained doctor, she couldn’t name half the drugs listed in the menu.

Thankfully, she would only have to be here a few minutes more… or so she hoped. She was supposed to have left already, the deed done quickly and cleanly. Her small bag was packed, waiting by the door.

While she’d prepared, she’d played this moment over and over in her head. It was supposed to be her moment of triumph—the moment when the man finally felt what he had done to so many women. But now, instead of anger, joy, and following quickly thereafter, resolve, Jo found herself plagued with doubt, and she hated herself for it. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she reminded herself that Chapman had ruined the lives of countless women; she couldn’t find the anger that had consumed her only a few minutes before. Jo closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

You weak pussy, Jo thought, using Tabbi’s disdain for her. Figure this out and get it done!

“How does it feel to have your body not be your own?” she finally said. Her voice sounded sharp and harsh in the rock room. “Are you afraid? Do you feel violated? Unclean? What’s it feel like to feel afraid for your life? Do you like it? I know you don’t. I know it horrifies you. I imagine that’s what it’s like for your escorts—afraid, desperate, and alone—pinned to the bed with someone who has almost unlimited power over them, lying on top of them. How does it feel, Chapman?”

Jo had hoped that if she spoke her thoughts, they would make her feel angry and therefore strong again.

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