Page 40 of Volatile Waters

The sincere moment had me trying to muster through guilt for creating more deceit. “How about we make a deal?” It may have appeared I was being kind, but I was only attempting to gain more trust.

Crash’s whole body perked up, hope gleaming from his expression. It felt… nice to know I could make his shitty predicament a tad more tolerable, even if it were a lie. “How about she gets to wear a shirt—”

I didn’t have a chance to finish before Crash ripped off his T-shirt, shoving it over Sam’s head. It was somewhat comical, especially with Sam’s hungry mouth following his hand—even through the cotton—for more food. Crash and I started laughing as he popped her head through the neck-hole. He said, “Oh, damn. Sorry,” and rushed more cheese to her mouth.

Covered, she seemed to relax, too, giggling, as Crash stuffed crackers in her mouth. When she spoke, “You ea’ too,” cracker crumbles puffed from her lips, causing us all to laugh even harder.

Catching his breath, Crash asked me, “So, what’s the price to keep her dressed?”

“Only a kiss.”

Crash snarled. “You want to kiss me?”

I recoiled. “What? No!” I pointed between them. “You two.”

Crash studied Sam, who was gruesomely still chewing. He asked me, “Now?”

“I don’t think that wise.” I threw him a bottle of water.

Rising to his knees, he caught it, but he suddenly appeared very distracted in thought. I’m sure many scenarios raced through his mind. “Why do you need me to kiss her?”

I was stealing the tiny laughter reprieve they’d just enjoyed. “If things do not work out between you two, she will be sold.”

Sam rushed to her knees, facing him, horror blanketing her face.

Crash, still distant in thought, brushed a crumb from her lip but asked me, “The kiss will lead to more, won’t it?”

Sam’s eyes found mine, so many questions present, especially with us reverting to Russian. I found it hard to look at her while answering the truth, so I stared out the window. “It will lead to the end.”

“Don’t take her from me.”

“I won’t,” I answered him, telling myself, this time, I wasn’t lying. I told myself that it was my dad who was going to rip Sam and Crash apart. I also told myself I wasn’t feeling guilty for all the empty promises I told the two souls I was leading down a path of destruction.

Crash stared at Sam’s young, full lips. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

She stared at his. “I have.”

The room became so quiet I could hear him swallow. “Your dad?”

It felt like I was violating them in so many ways as I watched their private moment, one that I was literally forcing.

She whispered, “Yeah.”

“I don’t want to be like him.”

As the predator, I watched their first intimate moment, the first of so many to come. Father was right; the awkwardness between the two eventually disappeared over time. Due to the encounters becoming more frequent, and the kisses and touches progressing, it was like a relationship between the three of us, even though I never physically participated. I didn’t become aroused watching the tenderness, but I started to recognize the infatuation with such a sight. The man who had already paid for Sam, he desired an unusual rawness. It was there. It was very present while two young people were learning their bodies together.

Again, I witnessed maturity at a stupendous rate. Crash kept Sam by his side, night and day. They slept on his floor bed, her against the wall where she wanted to be. She only got privacy in the restroom. Only my restroom was allowed, per Crash’s orders. No complaints came from her, and she loved to be in his T-shirts. I think the coverage gave her the ability to forget she was completely naked underneath.

Crash was caring for her at such a level I had to feed him extra, or he wouldn’t eat. He insisted on giving her part of his portions. I had no choice. I needed him strong and healthy to do his job—the one he had yet to admit was his.

I found his dedication mystifying, so I allowed it. I could’ve forced a different outcome, but I had other things to force. And, I was curious to what Crash’s reaction would be once he finally noticed his sacrifices were not being reciprocated. It was blatantly obvious, but Crash was still far too naïve for such grim thoughts. He couldn’t even see my betrayal, truly.

A heaping plate of fruit was in my grasp as I unlocked my bedroom door. When I entered, Sam’s eyes locked onto the sweet, juicy delights, just as I had hoped. Crash? Sitting on the floor, he glared at me, not the sweets in my palm. When he saw the Elite following me, he pulled an entranced Sam into his lap. Her mouth was gaping, her tongue almost reaching out for the fresh peaches promising juice from the heavens. I walked past her to be sure she could catch a whiff of vitamins on a plate. Her body was begging for what cheese, crackers, water, and bread weren’t providing. Sam hadn’t felt sunbeams in many weeks. She was starving in more ways than one.

In the middle of the large bedroom, I faced the two young spirits. The Elite kept her eyes down as she sunk to her knees next to me. I praised, “What a good girl,” as I sat next to her, placing the plate in my lap. I was sure to pick an Elite who spoke English. “Would you like some delicious fruit?”

“Yes, Master.”