Raven didn’t glance over, but lifted her shoulders in response, indicating she didn’t know.
Julie frowned. “This is so weird. I wonder—”
Raven glared at her, bringing a finger to her lips. Julie swallowed the rest of her thought. Minutes passed, and though she didn’t know exactly how many, it seemed like forever.
The night was sticky; their half-crouching positions uncomfortable. A mosquito buzzed in Julie’s ear, and she swatted at it, annoyed. Why was she here, bored and hot and being eaten by bugs, when she could be home, curled up in her comfortable bed? It was stupid. This was stupid. She was taking a big chance just being here. And what for? She opened her mouth to tell Raven exactly that, when her friend caught her arm, stopping her.
“He’s here,” she hissed.
Heart in her throat, Julie popped up and peered over the ledge. Mr. X wore a ski mask. He had a rope. He came up behind Mrs. X; he brought the rope to her throat. Using it, he tugged her roughly against him.
Julie brought a hand to her mouth, shocked and frightened. Aroused. As she watched, he ran the rope over Mrs. X’s body, caressing her with it, making love to her with it. Julie watched as the rope coiled around the woman’s neck, then slithered over her shoulders, her breasts. Then lower.
He used it as another man might use hands and fingers. He brought it between her legs. Mrs. X arched; her mouth opened, though Julie heard no sound.
Julie’s breath came in fast, shallow gasps. Her cheeks were hot, her nipples hard. She closed her eyes, struggling to get control of herself, her runaway thoughts.
When she opened them, Mr. X was binding the woman’s hands with the rope, roughly, yanking her arms behind her back. She didn’t fight him, didn’t struggle or try to break away. Julie didn’t understand. Mrs. X didn’t fight him, yet it looked as if he was scaring her, as if he was hurting her.
Did he own her? Julie wondered. Was she his slave, his property to do with as he wanted? Or was she in love with him, so in love she would give him anything he asked for?
Julie could understand that; she could imagine herself loving, needing to be loved in return, that much.
She was like Mrs. X.
Just like in her nightmare.
Mr. X forced her to her knees. Then, his intentions unmistakable, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection. Tangling his hands in her hair, he forced her to take him into her mouth.
Julie made a small sound, at once shocked and intrigued. Guilt and shame speared through her. She was wet. On fire.
Burning with shame. Guilt. Desire.
She ducked down, breathing hard, unable to watch another moment. Raven didn’t move. Julie covered her face with her hands. They trembled.
She was bad. This was bad. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined her face on Mrs. X’s body, the man’s hands, the rope slithering over her skin.
Andie had been right. They never should have come here. This was wrong. She was going to burn in hell, just as her father said.
“We have to go,” she whispered. “Raven, please.” She reached up and caught her friend’s hand and tugged. “Please, Rave. Please.”
Raven met her eyes, the expression in them strange, almost feverish. She gazed at Julie a moment, almost as if she didn’t know her, then nodded, not speaking again until they reached Julie’s door.
Raven touched Julie’s cheek. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure of that.”
Julie held her friend’s gaze a moment, then nodded and slipped inside, not at all certain of that fact. In fact, Julie had a horrible feeling that nothing was ever going to be all right again.
14
The next week passed in a disjointed, confusing blur for Julie. Her days were spent pretending to be a good daughter and a normal fifteen-year-old. Her nights were spent peering through the window of number twelve Mockingbird Lane, watching acts that alternately shocked, horrified and aroused her.
Julie lived in fear that her father would discover what she was doing; she struggled to deal with what she saw. One time Mr. X would be tender, even loving with Mrs. X, making love with her in the traditional way. The way Julie had dreamed of being made love to. The next he would be cruel. He would torment her with his indifference, he would make her crawl or beg. Those times, he would take her in whatever way or position he chose, no matter how painful.
He was the devil, Julie decided. She was watching the devil himself.
And he was seducing her.
Julie lay on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, too frightened to close her eyes. She feared if she did, her subconscious would take over and she would be once again transformed into Mrs. X.
She didn’t want to be Mrs. X. She didn’t want to enjoy … that.
But she did enjoy it. It was sick, yet she watched in fascination. She hated it, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She couldn’t understand why Mrs. X allowed the man to treat her that way, yet she did understand.
Maybe that was what frightened her most.
Julie rolled onto her side, then her back once more. The sheets twisted around her legs, binding them, trapping her. She began to sweat, her heart to pound. She was afraid.
Something terrible was happening to her. Had happened to her. She bit her bottom lip. She wasn’t the same person she had been before the window and Mr. and Mrs. X. Her life wasn’t the same.
She knew things now. She was afraid for her future.
She was afraid she was like Mrs. X.
A cry bubbled up to her throat. She wanted to go back. She didn’t want to know what she knew. She didn’t want him to be in her brain anymore. She pressed her face to the pillow. She wanted to make it all go away.
And she was afraid, too, for Mrs. X. Tonight, Mr. X had been brutal. He had all but raped Mrs. X, then left her bound, gagged and blindfolded. Alone in the dark.
He had gone to the garage and his car, and he’d driven off.
She and Raven had waited thirty minutes; he hadn’t returned. Julie had suggested they go inside and free Mrs. X; Raven had scoffed. It was all part of their game, she had said. Julie worried too much.
Did she worry too much? Julie wondered. Or was Mrs. X still there? Now, hours later? Had he left her to die alone in that house, bound and blinded by the silk scarf? Had he left her that way and gone to get a weapon to kill her?
The dark, her fears, pressed in on her. Julie reached across to the bedside table and switched on her light, squinting against the sudden brightness. Next to the light, in a pretty flowered frame, was a picture of her, Andie and Raven. Julie reached for her glasses and slipped them on, then took the framed photo into her hands and gazed
