Kenya Transtrum

John wasn’t sure why he took Sugar into the station for questioning, but things had built up too high in him lately and he had to make her see. These headaches that were burning in his brain were more than just the misfirings of his ideas, they seemed to be the spreading of a wild fire tearing through the virgin, outback brush of his madness. All his frustration was Sugar’s fault. She had to see this. He would make her see that she had spurned him, ignored him, yet she flirted and led him on so carefully and easily down into the cavern of this dark confusion. Yes, she would pay for her cleverness, her twisted games.
He dragged her down the hallway past the other cells to the back where no one could hear, no one could see. His hands dug into her flesh and she protested with innocence in her eyes and disgust on her lips. She must know he has something special in store for her tonight, though even in his heated fury, he hadn’t yet picked the perfect punishment. It would be fitting, that much he did know.
Did she think she could insult him day after day with her winsome smile, her curly auburn hair trailing snakelike down her soft and curving back? All the while denying him of any of her soft places, those alluring red lips, even the magic of her fingertips. Not once in his feverish anger did he think of the moment when he decided she wasn’t good enough for him to marry, the day he asked for the ring back, or even the fact the it was he who was married and not she.
This was her fault and she would pay for all the years of his pain. How dare she think that he might be hiding the truth or driving her nephew to a life time in jail without proof. He was a detective. He knew what he saw. He had all the evidence he needed for a conviction. And yet for her had he been wasting his time and allowing things to be bandied about in speculation. For her had he allowed himself moments of doubt and what-ifs to flood the evidence and try to wash it all away. She was playing him, as she always did. No longer would he let this go on. Tonight he would force the haughtiness out of her.
The cell door squeaked open and John carelessly tossed Sugar inside. Although he could see the fear in her eyes, she remained calm. He seethed to see her so still, so unafraid. Didn’t she know what he was capable of? Didn’t she understand the danger she was in? In a burst of fury he rushed at her and forced his lips on hers, tearing at her clothing. He heard the gasping of her breath, a whimper. Finally. Finally. Sugar was beginning to see that he was a man who controlled his own world. No longer would she demand his patience and respect. He grabbed at his belt and yanked it open. He would take what he had deserved all these years. From here on out he would dominate her days and nights. She would never get him away from her, off of her, out of her. He owned her. Finally.