Secrets & Submission

I wake up with a start and look at my phone to see what time it is. Realizing it is only 4 am, I groan and turn over to try to get back to sleep. Praying the nightmares and enemies will cease their persistence to allow me some rest. Sleep pulls me into a swirling reality of chaos, confusion, and violence. I was reawakened later by my alarm. I rub my hand over my face after turning off my alarm. Mondays. What a sick joke. I get out of bed and start my morning routine. Some people hate routines, and others thrive on them. I was one of those who found solace in routines. Predictable, known, and controlled. The way I preferred most of my life. Unfortunately, the higher powers had a sick sense of humor. My life was anything other than predictable. I shrugged off that thought and got ready for work.

“Hi, Carly,” Someone greets me as I walk into work later that morning. I nod as I return the greeting to them. I set my coat, keys, and purse down to log into my computer. My Mondays were usually filled with weekly reports and other numbers I would have to sort through as the business manager. I took a drink of my latte before opening the first one to plug away. A few hours pass and soon my assistant, Susan, peeks into my office.

“Carly? The rest of us are going to the diner for lunch. Did you want to join us?”

“Give me five minutes and I will be right there,” I told her with a smile. Lunch would be a most welcome relief. I finish up my report and log out. After I grabbed my things, I walked down the hallway with Susan talking about our weekends and what we did—office small talk. I looked at my phone briefly feeling a little guilty for checking my dating app. Not everyone has the time to meet people organically. Plus, where the hell do I find someone like me? I thought to myself as I clicked on the “liked you” tab. I clicked the red X on several guys before briefly pausing before deleting this one. I do not know why I hesitated, but I did. Something about this profile. No picture, how pathetic or egotistical. I read the rest of the profile and my curiosity grew quickly. He meets a lot of my “No” List, but I clicked the green check mark anyway. I shake my head and put my phone away as I open the door to my car.

The day quickly passes, but my phone buzzes. He messaged me. Nervousness and mild terror filled me as we exchanged messages. He seems polite and reserved. He seemed surprised at my intelligence. Messaging him is so effortless. How unusual, I thought to myself. I start to wonder what the catch is with this guy. Ugly? Living with his mom? Unemployed? Deadbeat Dad? Felon? I click reply and head to meet my friend for dinner

***Samuel***

My cell dings as I set my knife down. I eye my project up and down, judging if I have time for a quick break. I pull off my glove and check it.

“Carly huh?” I quirked a small smile as I read her reply. This one is interesting. Interesting enough that I agreed to meet this one. I do not know when I will have the time, but what the hell? I quickly type a reply and grab a drink of water before putting on a fresh set of gloves. If I don’t hurry, the bodily fluids will start to smell. I pick up my knife and start slicing into this pathetic meat sack of a person. I needed a name from him, and he wasn’t talking. I looked at the cuts that lined each of his arms and legs. Blood lightly drips from them. I had made sure not to cut deep enough to risk him bleeding to death. Not until I get my name. I had him tied to each leg of his kitchen table to keep him in place while I cut the information from his body. I made a big cut along his chest after deciding to cut down his torso. Saving his dick for last. His screams fill the air until finally, he tells me who ordered the death of an eight-year-old girl. I cut him ear to ear just so he would finally go silent. I looked around and called my boss.

“Hey. I got the name, but clean-up will take longer than expected. I will be delayed.” I shut the cell and placed it in my pocket. I got to work cleaning up the blood and neutralizing any other possible source of evidence. Loaded my SUV and drove off to meet this girl who seems to be true to be real.

***Carly***

I park my car and turn it off waiting for him to get here. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. After talking for a few weeks, I agreed to meet him in a public area. Due to time constraints, we ended up on a walking path I was familiar with. There was a tunnel in the beginning stretch that we were parked near. It took him a few minutes to find it, but his car pulled in. I got out of my car and headed toward the walking trail. Holding still when I’m nervous has never been my strong suit. He looked at the trail and gave me a droll look.

“Seriously? You are going to make me walk?” He asked incredulously. I grinned while responding.

“Walking outdoors is good for the soul.” He quickly follows in step beside me.

“So did you bring me here to kill me or something?” I looked over at him, amused that he would jump to such a drastic conclusion. Men, I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would not do it here.” He quickly changed the subject, and somehow we ended up in some ridiculous ethical debate while we lingered in a tunnel. He is trying to convince me that morality is subjective, not objective. That every sin or crime can become socially acceptable in different cultures, or depending on the context. His body edges closer to me as our debate gets hot. I refuse to admit he is right based on pure principle. If morality is subjective then how are we even higher, civilized beings? He stares right at me as I continue to debate with him on when murder is acceptable when I become acutely aware of how close he is to me. I quickly feel a tingling sensation under my skin. It feels like my skin or body is burning. For him of all people. I don’t understand why my body is reacting to him. He is rather nondescript. He is slightly above average height. Slightly muscular, but not super fit, with dark short hair, brown eyes, and black glasses that are eerily reminiscent of the standard issue from military service members. I must have lingered on him too long because he quickly maneuvered me to the wall with an arm on each side of my head. Trapping me, forcing me to look straight in his eyes.

“Do I make you nervous? What are you feeling right now?” He asked me. I struggle to maintain eye contact. My eyes roam our surroundings realizing how alone we were despite being in such a public area. Why did I pick this spot? The fire grew in my body engulfing me with a need. Clouding my thoughts and leaving a paralyzing need.

“Confused and conflicted,” I tell him honestly.

“About what?” He demands.

“You,” I tell him defiantly. One of his hands ran up my thigh to the top of my leggings, hovering as his eyes pierced straight into me peering into my soul. What he was looking for and what he found I have no idea. I try not to hyperventilate from such intense scrutiny. I secretly wished he wouldn’t stop, but shame kept my voice silent. Suddenly, he stands straight up and drifts back on the walking path to our vehicles. More small talk ensues as he continues to tease me about my stance on how subjective morality can be. All too soon, I was back at my car and facing the most confusing conundrum I have met.

“Bye, Gorgeous,” He tells me. He leans in and kisses me on my cheek. I flushed as I remembered him telling me a week prior that he won’t kiss me on my lips until he tasted my pussy first. I got in my car and he pulled away. Looking back, I wonder why I didn’t just end it then. I have never had a man be that bold with me before. Would I make the same choices if I knew earlier what he was hiding? I don’t think I would. From the very first moment we met, I was his, and I did not even know it.

***

The rest of the evening feels so bland as I reel from the surreal feelings that had lingered since our first date. This doesn’t feel like a normal reaction from a meet and greet, but I force myself to focus on the present. I walk into my parents’ house and help them get everything ready for family dinner. My family gathers fairly often. Ideally, weekly at a minimum.

“So how did it go?” My mom asks as we eat our pork chops, potatoes, and green beans.

“I’m not sure, honestly. He is wicked smart, but there is something about him I can’t quite put my finger on,” I explain to them.

“Like what?” My dad asks.

“I’m not sure, but he refuses to tell me personal details. Where he lives, where he is from, what he does for work, and other oddly innocuous things. I’m a stranger to him, so I don’t have the right to his life story. Yet, something just doesn’t feel right,” I explain to them.

“I say go with your gut,” My dad tells me. “He’s a veteran, you said and a certain type of person can’t tell people about things like that for a reason. I would steer far away from him.”

“Yeah, you are probably right, Dad. I’ll be careful,” I reassure him.

After dinner, I help clean up before heading back home. When I get home, I check my phone. I opened up a message from him. It was nice meeting you today. I can’t wait to taste your lips when we meet again, he wrote to me. I smile and quickly type back, I look forward to it. Are you sure you are up to the task? I’m quite the handful. A few minutes pass, and then he sends me, You have no idea who you are dealing with, little girl. I can handle everything you have. I arch my eyebrow at that message. This guy sounds very self-assured. I guess I will have to see if he can back up his claims. I type on my phone quickly and click send before I can chicken out.

***Samuel***

Then let the games begin, she messaged me. My curiosity is piqued, and I am very interested in who this woman is. I sit down at my desk and quickly dive into her entire life. My fingers fly across the keyboard in a flurry. No criminal history, parents’ address, her address, her employer, their employers, her immediate family members’ information, and more appear on my screen. It’s amazing what is public domain if you know how and where to look. She appears to be exactly who she is. In my line of work, though, caution is paramount. I set some alerts and deeper searches into her and her parents before logging out of my computer. I’m already cutting it close to my meeting tonight. My boss will kill me if I am late for my debriefing again.

I walk into my debriefing 5 minutes late, and my boss eyeballs me with a very irritated look.

“Glad you were able to join us,” He tells me.

“Sorry, I was delayed. Shall we get started?” I ask him, aiming to put him off the trail of what I was doing. Personal life and professional life should never mix.

“Yes, who ordered the hit? What did he tell you before you killed him? Without approval, I might add.” He demanded.

“He wouldn’t give up the boss, but he did admit it was the second in command that ordered this hit. They had the little girl killed because her dad refused to pay the protection fees. If we can flip the grieving father, it’ll build our case against them,” I told him.

“That could work. I will send someone to contact him tomorrow. Not you, though. You need to take care of one of their other musclemen. He has gone underground and it will take you some time to track him down. Better get started now and keep me in the loop this time. The details of what we know are in that folder,” He tells me as I look down at the thin folder. Not much to go on. I sigh in resignation and grab the folder before leaving.