Master of Elusion

By: R. E. Gauthier


I dedicate this book to all the women in this who stand up and say ME TOO! For those women afraid to tell someone about the sexual violence of any kind. You have rights too. Stand up for yourselves and don’t let anyone tell you, it’s okay.

To my wife, you’re my rock, my life, and my love. When no one else thinks I’m capable of doing things, you do. There are not enough words to thank you, so I LOVE YOU will have to do.

I’d also like to acknowledge the support and help of two special women.

Terry, you offered to help to edit this book, and I owe you a debt of gratitude for doing so, without the promise of monetary gains.

Laure, your beta-reading helped to solidify my ideas and weed out others that hit the editing floor, thank you, to you both.

Chapter One

Washington D. C., Three weeks ago, August 21, 2011

Why? The voice in Emily’s head asked repeatedly. Her heart beat faster, as she tried to slow her breathing. The features of Ben’s face were in shadows, but she made out the glint of the steel. He held a knife and straddled her on the bed. “Why are you doing this?” Emily finally gave voice to the thoughts, which banged around in her head.

Waking up moments ago with Ben on top of her sent Emily into flight mode. Adrenalin pumping through her veins kept telling Emily she must get away. Her first instincts were to yell at him for scaring her once again.

Ben had let himself into her apartment a couple of weeks ago, and tonight, as then, his intent wasn’t honorable. Two weeks ago, he had crept silently into her bedroom and demanded to have sex with her. That night, Emily had endured a couple of hours of a sexual encounter, unlike any other. It was only after telling her best friend about it, did she realize Ben raped her. Emily denied it because Ben had been forceful but gentle. In contrast, the man who grabbed her when she was a teenager had not been gentle at all. That time the man had caught her and made her do unspeakable acts, it hurt. Emily now knew there were several ways a person could sexually assault another.

Tonight, looking up at Ben, Emily did not think he intended to rape her. The last time he only used his strength to hold her down, tonight he had a knife. Self-preservation made her deepen her breath and attempt to calm her mind. I don’t need to panic; I need to get him off of me and get him to put away the knife. Ben wasn’t acting like the man she knew she knew; something wasn’t right. “Ben, why do you have a knife, what do you want?”

Ben remained silent, and his head bowed looking at the knife.

Trembling, Emily said, “if you want to have sex, put the knife away; you’re scaring me.”

Still, he didn’t speak.

“Can you turn on the lamp so that I can see you?”

Ben snickered and leaned forward. The roughness of the denim at his crotch pressed into the softness of her belly. He reached for something, and Emily hoped he would comply and turn on the bedside lamp. He shifted, so some of his weight lifted off of her, and Emily tried to sit up.

Ben shoved her back onto her back. “Emily, you’re going to kill yourself tonight,” he whispered into her ear.

Stunned by the revelation, Emily shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. How many times, after my rape, have I thought of killing myself? She never told anyone about her desire to end her own life, except for the rape helpline operator. How does Ben know? “I don’t want to die now; I have finally come to terms with it, and I know it wasn’t my fault,” she said quietly.

“Of course, you want to die; you’re not daddy’s little girl anymore. You’re nothing but a little whore, who lets men fuck you, rape you, and you like it. Remember our last time? You screamed and told me to stop, but before long, you were begging me to keep fucking you, like the whore, you are.”

Shaking her head, Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing; Ben’s words were her own, but he twisted them to hurt her. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because spoiled, little girls like you need to know about the real world and I’m here to make sure he gets punished.”

Emily’s brain tried to make sense of what he said. Why did he say he? Who did Ben want to punish? Emily wasn’t sure she understood but wanted to keep him talking. “You don’t have to do this; I don’t know why you’re doing this to me. Please don’t kill me”, she pleaded, and she tried to squirm under him to persuade him to do anything but use that knife.