Chapter 32

Rodney Jackson sat alone in his darkened living room, staring at the faint glow of the TV that he’d left on for some semblance of company. The volume was low, but he could hear the distant voices of news anchors discussing yet another lead in the search for Sophie, the missing local girl. The speculation was relentless, and the whispers among the townspeople only grew louder with each passing day.

His home, once a place of comfort, now felt like a prison. The graffiti on his front door, boldly declaring him a ‘paedo’, was a constant reminder of how quickly his life had unravelled. A hastily applied tape covered the broken window where a brick had shattered the glass, a blunt message from the community that he was no longer welcome.

Rodney had hoped Yasmin, his lawyer, could offer some guidance, but her response was cold and dismissive. “Stay home, don’t talk to anyone, and call the police if you feel threatened,” she had said, her voice devoid of empathy. Even his own family had turned their backs on him; his mother explicitly told him not to visit, fearing for her own reputation. He felt isolated, vilified, and completely alone.

Just a few weeks ago, Rodney had a life most people would envy. He had a stable job, a loving wife, and dreams of starting a family. He was surrounded by friends and an extended family that cared about him. Now all of that was gone. He had tried to help the police, giving them information about the last time he saw Sophie, offering her a lift when she seemed stranded. And that had ruined his life, he laughed to himself.

Sure, he had made some mistakes. There were the few images he’d looked up when curiosity got the better of him, and a drunken encounter with a girl where the police had fitted him up, with that old case now being dredged up. As for Selina, that had been entirely consensual, just two people having a bit of fun, she was nearly sixteen anyway.

He couldn’t help but think about all the truly evil people in the world—those who caused harm without a second thought—yet they seemed to thrive while his life crumbled. It felt unbearably unfair.

Prison, even for a year, felt like a death sentence. He would be a ‘paedo’ and everyone believed he had done something with Sophie.

There was a knock on his door. He reached for his baseball bat, and looked out the window.

“Mr Jackson, Mr Jackson? I want to just talk to you.”

“Are you a reporter? I’m not giving any interviews.”

“No I ‘m not a reporter. I just want to talk to you.”

It was a woman’s voice. Jackson went to the door and looked out the peephole. He saw a middle aged woman with strawberry blonde hair. She seemed to be alone but he would not take any chances.

“Leave me alone. I will call the police.”

“I’m Sophie’s mother, I’m Teresa Yildiz, look I want to talk with you.”

Jackson froze. Was she really? Maybe this was a chance to tell her the truth. He knew the police had no evidence but he also knew they still suspected him. Maybe this would be a chance to convince her he was innocent and clear his name and get some sympathy.

“Mrs Yildiz? Are you by yourself? Look I don’t want to get attacked.”

“I’m alone, look I want to talk with you.”

“How did you find me?”

“Everyone knows where you live.”

Eventually, he relented and let her in. She seemed quite young still, and very attractive. She was in jeans and dark jacket. He invited her in and offered her a cup of tea.

Teresa feigned friendliness but Jackson disgusted her. He had an aura of slime, she had expected him to seem normal but she could not shake the impression of sleaze that she got from him.

“Listen Mrs Yildiz, Tersea, I didn’t touch your daughter. “I only offered to help,” he repeated, his voice slightly shaky. “I saw her on the road, and she looked lost. I thought she’d need a ride. That’s all. I swear. And then I went to the police and it’s cost me everything, if you believe me, you could help me...”

“What about my daughter? Do you not think she is not more important?”

“Of course, of
course, but I mean ... I can’t help...”

Teresa could feel her anger rising. This man did not care about her daughter.

“You were going to hang out with a fifteen year old girl when you saw my daughter. So why did you stop and try and give her a lift? Were you being nice or were you going to do something with her as well?”

Jackson felt a flash of anger. He was tired of being accused of things he hadn’t done, of having every mistake he’d made thrown back in his face. “Selina and I were just—” He stopped, realizing that whatever he said would only make things worse. “It was a misunderstanding. And I’m not like that. I didn’t do anything to your daughter.”

Teresa stood up abruptly, her hands clenched into fists. “Misunderstanding? My daughter is missing, and you have the nerve to talk about misunderstandings? You’re a creep, everyone knows it.” She gestured to the graffiti on his door, the broken window. “You think people do that for no reason?”

Jackson felt his anger rising. “They don’t know me,” he snapped. “They don’t know anything. I didn’t do anything! You people have ruined my life because of some stupid rumours. You don’t know what it’s like to be accused of something you didn’t do.”

Teresa stepped forward, her eyes blazing with fury. “I don’t care about your life! My daughter is gone, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to find her.”

“Get out,” he said, his voice breaking. “Just get out. I can’t help you. I didn’t do anything to your daughter, and I don’t need this.” He pointed to the door, his hand trembling.

Teresa didn’t move immediately. She stood there, glaring at him as if she could force the truth out of him with sheer willpower. But then she got up and walked towards the door and Jackson followed her.

As Teresa walked out the hallway, she took in the dingy surroundings again and thought of Sophie being held prisoner here, or spending the last moments of her life here. Anger and fury took hold of her, and she brought out a knife from within her jacket and spun around, holding it to his throat.

“I know you took her, where is she? What did you do with her you FUCKING SCUMBAG!”

There was a scuffle, and Jackson reached for his baseball bat. He fended off several blows from Teresa, then swung with the bat and caught her right in the side of the head.

The impact was sickening, the crack of wood against bone echoing through the house. Teresa stumbled backward, her grip on the knife loosening as she clutched the side of her head. The force of the blow had sent her sprawling to the floor, where she lay dazed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jackson stood over her, breathing heavily, the baseball bat still clutched tightly in his hands. He looked at the broken woman on his floor, blood trickling from where the bat had struck her temple.

“Why did you do that?” he shouted, his voice tinged with panic and guilt. “Why would you come at me like that? I didn’t do anything!”

Teresa pushed herself up, her vision blurry from tears and the force of the blow. She staggered to her feet, leaning against the wall for support, her other hand still pressed against her head. The pain was intense, but her anger burned even hotter.

“You’re lying! I know you did something to my daughter!” she cried, her voice breaking with grief and rage. “You can’t hide the truth forever! Everyone will find out what you are!”

Jackson felt a wave of remorse. He hadn’t wanted this. He just wanted to be left alone, to rebuild his shattered life. But now he’d struck a grieving mother, a woman who had every right to be angry, every right to seek justice for her missing child. He felt like the worst kind of person, no better than the rumours that had destroyed his reputation.

“Please, just leave!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you can’t just attack people like this! I didn’t do anything to Sophie!”

Teresa’s sobs grew louder as she limped toward the door, each step unsteady and filled with pain. But she was determined, her anger propelling her forward despite her injury. She reached the door and paused, looking back at him with a mix of fury and despair.

“I’ll never forgive you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You ruined my life. You took my daughter away. You will pay for this, one way or another.”

With that, she left, the door slamming behind her. Jackson was left alone in the wreckage of his life, the baseball bat still in his grip, and the echoes of her threats filling the empty spaces around him. He felt terrible, a crushing sense of guilt and remorse settling in his chest. He knew he would never be free of this for the rest of his life.

Weeks were dragging on in Sophie’s underground hell. The sex was unrelenting and Pembroke had a huge appetite for it. “Soon I will finish this work contract, then I can concentrate on you even more Sophie, before school terms starts. Maybe I should quit the teaching job and just do contract work, but then I would miss all those lovely young bitches sitting in front of me.”

Sophie was lying on his chest, they were both naked in the bed in the basement. He had made her cum several times as well, and she was, she hated to admit it, enjoying a lot of the aspects of the sex. Pembroke was intrigued by her squirting and as she relaxed more and more she was able to do it more.

Unfortunately, Pembroke seemed addicted to keeping her on her toes. Any vague sense of contented happiness on her part made him seem nervous. Pembroke wanted her to appear happy and smile, but also he was paranoid that she was planning something, or being condescending to him. The only way he could be sure of his superiority over her was when she was being tortured or humiliated.

This feeling was knawing on his now. He was lying in bed with an impossibly beautiful girl, laying across him like a lover. He idly stroked her back, feeling her ass and tits as if to confirm this dream was real. She seemed so peaceful and placid lying there, he thought. But how could she be? She wanted to be outside, she wanted to be free, not with him. He was suddenly angry, this was a lie, she was play acting!

“Sophie, get up, you need exercise. And you need to prove your obedience to me and not be lazy lying on me like this. Get up!”

The familiar sense of foreboding overtook Sophie. She knew that any vaguely nice situation could only last so long down here. She had been stupid to relax. She knew that her fear turned him on and was the thing that he wanted from her.

“I’m gonna lie here and watch you do Simon says. Go on, bring me that shock collar and the remote.”

Sophie brought them over and bent down to let him attach the collar to her. She braced herself for instruction.

“Simon says, dance for me.”

“What kind of dance?”

Bzzzzz!

“Any fucking dance, just make it sexy. And call me daddy you cheeky little bitch, remember!”

After recovering from the brutal shock, Sophie began to dance, nervously. She found it excruciatingly embarrassing to dance in front of people which was one of the things which horrified her about the original video Pembroke had captured of her in her bedroom and used to threaten her with. Like most self conscious young girls, she was not very sexy.

“Simon says make it sexier, you should know how.”

Sophie desperately twerked, gyrated and jumped around like a nervous schoolgirl.

“Come on Sophie, more eye contact with me. Make me believe you want me, make me believe my fat hairy body turns you on, that you crave my cock. I want you to convince me that you spend every waking hour in your cell thinking of my body and how horny it makes you feel. Come on, I’m turning up the shock level so you better make this sexiness believable.”

Sophie forced her lips to turn upwards into a smile, opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out provocatively. The more she pretended to enjoy it, the deeper the loathing festered within her. With every forced move, a silent scream echoed inside her, a desperate plea for this charade to end. This agonising suppression of her true self continued, as she played the role she despised.

He sat there, watching her with a satisfied smirk, eyes travelling over her body, lingering, assessing, feeding on her discomfort. Pembroke knew what he was doing. Every movement she was forced into was a betrayal, down to the movement of her lips and the suggestive movement of her eyes. Slowly but surely, as her body was forced more and more to betray her mind, her mind would have to give up.

He locked eye contact with her. “Give me those sexy eyes, yes, any sign of reluctance I see, and you get the shock!” Sophie did not have the comfort of flinching, instead her eyes just grew wider as she desperately kept up this awful acting. Her mouth grew into a wide smile, not out of happiness but a manic feeling of wretchedness. She was a whore, she had to act like one.

“Fuck that is good, good fucking girl. Now stop that, and come over and give me a tongue bath. We will leave the Simon says for another day, just for now, Simon says lick me all over.”

Sophie was relived to break eye contact, even if the task ahead was more disgusting. “Start at my feet, oh and no skipping this time. I know I have hairs on my toes and you might find it gross but that’s no excuse, I want to feel tongue on that part too. Same with my armpits, I shaved them last week so no excuse not to spend some time there with your tongue as well, in fact a lot more, to make up for last time!”