Free The First Male by Lee Hayes Page B

and his torture would last for hours. He spelled the room, insulating it from sound and creating a shimmer, which would reflect a manufactured image he conjured to anyone who entered. If a hapless nurse or aide entered the room, they’d simply see him reading her a story, but behind the veil, his assault of her would continue, uninterrupted.
    Eli strolled over to the window and stared into the night. He placed his right palm on the cool glass.
    â€œThere’s a storm gathering, Addie. Can you feel it?” He closed his eyes and concentrated on what lay beyond the window, far past the horizon. “Oh yes. A storm.” His voice sounded lustful, full of strong desire. “I can feel it. It’s your storm, my dear. It is the breaking of your binding spell; it is the unleashing of his power. It is gathering strength.” He turned and looked into her stone face. “Surely, you feel it, too?” He moved over to her and picked her up gently from the floor. He laid her across the bed, taking time to properly fit the pillows beneath her head. He pulled the covers up and stopped when they were just beneath her breasts. He looked at a chair in the corner and it slid effortlessly over to him. He took a seat at her side and stroked her forehead. He would torture her, abuse her, and then repair her body so that no one would know.
    â€œWell, let us get to it.”
    His punishment would last most of the dark night.

C HAPTER 6
    S imon woke up in his bed and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly eight at night and his room was dark, save for the light from the clock. His mouth felt arid and powdery, as if he hadn’t had water in days. His forehead was slightly moist, but his headache had dissipated. He sat up in bed and took a moment to fully assess his health. He felt good. Healthy. Strong. He looked around the empty room and called out for Brooke, but his voice echoed off the walls. He called out again. Still, no answer. He was alone. More troubling than being alone was the issue of how he had gotten from the doctor’s office back home. The last thing he remembered was walking toward the nurse. He remembered the waiting room. He remembered getting dizzy, but the rest was hazy.
    Then, he started to remember.
    Blaine.
    The would-be robber at Cisco’s.
    The tingling.
    Thoughts of that red-headed child suddenly consumed him. Maybe that dough-faced boy was a figment of his imagination; maybe the man in the black bubble coat was some stranger on the street he had seen previously. Simon hoped he had imagined it all.
    Then, he remembered other details.
    The gun.
    Reading Blaine’s thoughts. He remembered things about the boy he should not have known.
    He remembered the pain in his head as he stood over the grill at work. The man in the bubble coat and Blaine weren’t products of his imagination. They were real and what Simon had experienced was real, regardless of how much he wanted to pretend they were fantasy; two extraordinary events on one very ordinary day.
    Simon leaned over and clicked on the lamp on the nightstand, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the room. Just as he looked around, his cell phone screamed, which jolted him into alertness. He cursed the phone in his head, looked at the caller ID and breathed a sigh of relief.
    â€œHey, baby,” he said, relieved to hear the sound of Brooke’s voice.
    â€œHow are you feeling? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, but you know finals are coming up and I had a study group.”
    â€œNot a problem, babe. I just woke up, anyway.” Simon rubbed his eyes. “Hey, how did I get home from the doctor’s office?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI remember being at the doctor’s office and then I woke up here.”
    â€œAre you serious? You don’t remember anything?” Brooke’s audible exhalation on the other end of the phone expressed her concern. “Simon,