FicWad

There was a long silence. I debated whether or not to tell my mother who the child's real father was. Would she be angry? Probably not. Well, probably not anymore angry than she already was. I knew she disapproved of sex before marriage, but she hadn't really lectured me on it since I had come home. I figured that was probably because I was so sick.

Finally, after coming up with no real reason not to tell her, I said, "Cutler Beckett." Mother looked confused for a moment and then her eyes widened as she asked in surprise, "Lord Cutler Beckett? The man Mr. Mercer was working for?" I nodded, thinking that there was certainly no other Cutler Becketts from around here. I mean, not most people would name their child that.

My mother was silent for a few moments as she took in this news. I could tell she wanted to know more, but if she did, she was going to have to ask for it. I wasn't just going to be throwing around details about my relationship with Cutler. Curiosity piqued, she leaned forward and asked in alarm, "Did he grab you and rape you? Or was it some little fling you agreed to?"

I raised my eyebrows at my mother's ideas. Wondering why she would assume it was rape or a one night stand, I replied, "Neither." Mother looked puzzled. Finally, she asked blankly, "If it wasn't rape or a fling, then what was it?" Sighing to myself, I wished we could just drop the subject. I didn't really want to go on discussing Cutler. He was dead after all.

"We were in a relationship, alright?" I said a bit defensively, "It wasn't like some one time thing. I was living with him before he died on the Endeavor." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Mother certainly didn't need to know that last bit. Already, her features were stiffening and she was trying hard not to give me a dirty look.

Knowing that she really loathed the idea of living with a man who you weren't married to, I quickly tried to come up with a distraction and said, "Mother, I'm really thirsty. Could I have a glass of water?" It was true; I was still thirsty. For some reason, I had been drinking a ton lately. I had no idea why. Strange things just kind of happen sometimes I supposed.

Still looking rather shocked, mother agreed and stood up to go and fetch me some water. Grateful that she was going away, I watched her leave and noticed baby James was starting to cry. Figuring he was hungry, I pulled my dress down and put him to my breast. James started suckling hungrily just as I heard loud voices coming from the parlor.

I could hear raised voices. That made me nervous. Who the hell was out there? Before I could figure that out, mother came back into my bedroom looking all flushed and irritated. She pulled James away from me and dumped him at the end of the bed. James gave her a mad look and started whining loudly. Before I could ask what she was doing, mother had grabbed my arm.

As she hauled me to my feet, I gave her an indignant look and asked, "What the hell is going on here? Why did you do that to poor James?" Little James, still angry, decided to try and get to me. He started crawling across the bed. Mother started straightening my dress and tucked a messy strand of hair behind my ear, asking, "Why didn't you tell me you ran away?"

Ran away? From who? From what? Confusion clouded my mind as I asked, "What are you talking about?" Giving me a dirty look, mother gave me a push out the door and said firmly, "Go and find out." Now rather curious about what was going on, I stumbled out the bedroom door and out into the parlor. I opened my mouth to speak and then quickly shut it.

None other than Ian Mercer was sitting across from my father in the parlor. My eyes bulged and my jaw dropped as I stared at him. Where had he come from? Hadn't he died? Well, now that I thought about it, there had never been any proof that Ian had died. Supposedly he had gone down with the Flying Dutchman but nobody had every found his body.

Father was also giving me a dirty look. He stood up and crossed the room, grabbing my arm roughly. I stared at Ian, completely frozen. Ian turned slowly, fixing his black glittering eyes right on me. A small smirk came over his face. Pulling me into the center of the room, my father ordered me loudly, "Jenna, I think you have something to say to this man."

I looked with horror to my father and then to Ian. There was no way I was apologizing to Ian. I tried to think of a way out of it. The papers that showed Ian had abused me had been with Cutler. I was sure they were long gone by now. Even though I wanted to, I couldn't tell my father he had abused me either. I would not show him my naked body and the scars Ian had left on it.

"Jenna!" my father yelled loudly in my ear, cutting off my trail of thought. "Apologize to your husband immediately!" My what? My husband? Certainly not! Ian was not my husband. At least, I liked to think he wasn't. Unfortunately, we had never legally separated and probably were still considered husband and wife by the law. Shit. Why did things never go my way?

Having no choice really, I mumbled, "I'm sorry." Still looking rather furious at me, my father said sternly, "I expect you to go with Mr. Mercer now and do the duties he tells you to do." He gave me a shove in Ian's direction. I fell against Ian's chest. Ian wrenched me to my feet and started dragging me to the door. Little did I know that earlier was the last time I would ever see baby James.

As soon as we were out of the door, I decided to try and run. It was a last minute plan, but I really didn't want to end up with Ian again. Taking a deep breath, I yanked out of his grasp and started running. Sadly, I didn't get very far. Ian was much quicker than me. He lunged forward and grabbed my shoulder, pushing me to the ground. I fell.

Ian leaned over my body and sneered as he yanked me to my feet. He started dragging me along again, hissing in my ear, "Don't think you're going to get away with this, girl. You have lots of punishment coming in your direction. You have disobeyed me so many times that insulting isn't even enough to explain how I feel. Enjoy the fresh air because this was the last time you'll ever feel it."

Oh god, so did that mean Ian planned on killing me? I wouldn't be surprised if he did. I had never seen him this furious before and that was really saying something considering just how often Ian was angry. As I thought about all this, I realized death wasn't such a bad thing. The thing that did make it bad was the fact that Ian was certainly going to torture me until the end.

Ian dragged me to the house on the beach. Apparently he still lived there. Ian kicked the door open and slammed it shut behind him. Once we were alone, Ian grabbed me and threw me other his shoulder in a very uncomfortable manner. I wanted to protest, but found that was probably not going to work. For now, I would keep quiet until the point where I really had to scream.

Ian pounded up the stairs and threw open a door that led to a small bedroom. It was a rather nice room with cream walls and a small bed in the corner of the room. There was an open window across from the door. If you looked out of it, you could see the ocean. Too bad I couldn't just observe the scenery all day. No, Ian had things he wanted to do with me.

Tossing me on the bed, Ian grabbed something from a desk from the corner opposite the bed and came to stand over me. His eyes were glinting with malice and I could tell he certainly wasn't going to go easy on me. With an evil look on his face, he decided to start a conversation with me. Leaning against the bedpost, he stared down at me and asked, "Where have you been?"

I gave Ian no answer. He didn't deserve an answer and therefore was not going to get one. Ian, however, thought otherwise. He selected a knife from his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand suggestively. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "I heard you were living with none other than Cutler Beckett, is that not so?" Eying the knife nervously, I gave a short nod.

"How very romantic," Ian said in a mocking voice. "Did he actually love you?" My eyes narrowed at the question. This time, I did not answer. Who did he think he was to be asking about the love between Cutler and me? That was a private thing and it was absolutely none of Ian's business. On the other hand, Ian thought everything to do with me was his business.

Still annoyed at him, I replied, "Does it matter? Would it make a difference to you? You never loved me." Ian tilted his head, still tossing the knife from hand to hand as he thought. Finally, he shrugged rather indifferently and replied, "Well, no to both questions. I was just trying to imagine how anyone could love an annoying, bitchy cunt like you, that's all."

As I listened to Ian's hurtful words, I found they didn't really bother me anymore. I was used to him hating me and I was even more used to him using those kinds of words. By now, they simply bounced off of me. Ian noticed my oblivion and was suddenly leaning over me, pressing the knife against my chest. Frowning, I looked down at it, hardly daring to breathe.

In a swift motion, Ian ran the knife straight down my dress so that it fell open. Picking me up as if I were a doll, he yanked all my clothing off and slammed me back onto the bed. I flinched as the cold air hit my naked body, but besides for that, I remained still. Ian looked me over and clicked his tongue in annoyance, "I see you haven't change much."

When I again made no reply, Ian picked up something from the bed next to me. Peering upwards, I could see it was rope. Ian grabbed me roughly and flipped me over onto my back. I could feel him yank my hands together and tie them with the rope. Next, he gave the same treatment to my ankles so that my hands and my feet were bound and I couldn't move.

Ian flipped me over so I was on my back once more. Tapping his chin, he asked, "Should I gag you or not?" I made no reply. To me, it didn't matter anymore. I just wished he would hurry up and do whatever it was he was going to do so we could get this over with and I could die. Ian answered his own question, "I suppose not. You're being quiet and I want you begging for mercy."

Ian held the knife to my neck and pressed it down slightly. I closed my eyes and waited for the sudden pain. Unfortunately, it didn't come. Ian commented, "No, not decapitation. It would be over much to quickly. I want you to suffer. Hm." Ian ran the knife over the curves of my body and rested it on top of my nipple. I made the mistake of jerking away when he put it there.

"Ah, so I found a tender place," Ian stated. "Well then, I give you my thanks for showing me where to start." Ian positioned the knife directly above the little nub before slamming it through my sensitive skin. A bloodcurdling scream reverberated around the room as I heard the noise of Ian cutting into my flesh. The whole room seemed to be dyed red as I revolved in a sea of agony.

Ian laughed sadistically and yanked the knife out, pressing the blade against my other nipple as he said, "Let's do the same thing here, shall we?" I kept screaming as Ian dug the knife into my body once more. Streams of blood ran down my chest and stained the white sheets a dark crimson color. Apparently, that didn't faze Ian at all.

"How about I do this next?" Ian asked. He yanked a hand between my thighs, grabbed the knife, and shoved it up me. He would've done more, but at that moment, there was a loud knock at the door. Ian froze and waited to see what would happen. There was another urgent knock at the door. Ian cursed. I wondered what would happen to me now.