Part 1 - The Break In
A gunman stands over the man lying in bed. Moonlight shines through the windows of the bedroom, illuminating everything. The man, on his back, is sound asleep. The burglar wakes the man from his deep sleep. Something is wrong. Something is pushing down on his mouth. His eyes dart open. He sees the hand on his mouth and his eyes widen. Before he can scream, the gunman protests. A gun barrel presses down on his cheek, and he hears a whisper.
“Shh,” the gunman whispers. “Don’t say a word.”
The guy’s wife lies next to him in bed, still asleep. Unwilling to disobey, the guy does not say a word even when the gunman removes his hand.
The gunman steps back and gestures for the guy to sit up.
Frank, the middle-aged black man in his bed, sits up and hangs his legs over the edge of the bed. The gunman has a stocky silhouette. At some point in his life, he used to hit the gym every day, but the bulging midsection told a more recent story of too many beers and barbecue dinners.
“Don’t try anything stupid…” the gunman whispers, “or I will shoot you, then I’ll walk over to the other side of this bed and kill your wife.”
Frank nods.
The gunman grabs Frank’s shoulder with a gloved hand and, with little effort, pulls Frank off the bed, the gun still trained on Frank’s face.
“Get down on your knees…right here.” He pushes down on Frank’s shoulder. “Ah-ah-ah, slowly!” The gunman presses the barrel of the gun into the back of Frank’s head as a reminder to not try anything, or he’ll end up with a bullet in his skull.
All the while the woman remains undisturbed.
The gunman moves behind Frank. “Put your hands behind your back.” He pulls a zip tie from his belt and secures Frank’s hands behind his back.
Frank feels the rapid clicks as the man tightens the zip ties. He winces as the hard-plastic bites into his skin.
With the weapon to Frank’s back, the gunman pushes Frank to the floor and onto his belly. With another zip tie, he secures the feet. The man pulls Frank back onto his knees with ease and grabs the roll of duct tape hanging from his belt. He tears a strip from the roll and puts it over Frank’s mouth.
Frank protests with muffled sounds.
The gunman places the barrel of the gun directly on Frank’s forehead. The gun is cocked sideways while he puts his index finger vertically across the place where the masked man’s lips would be, gesturing for silence.
Frank holds his gaze with the man as he backs away.
The gunman walks around to the other side of the bed, where Frank’s wife is still asleep.
Frank’s muffled sounds get more intense as the masked man gets closer to his wife, Sheri. What might that man do to her? Tied up and on his knees, Frank can only feel helpless.
Today is their thirteenth anniversary. He had the day all planned out, but at this moment there is only uncertainty.
Frank glances at the nightstand, looking for his gun. Gone.
The intruder has it.
The gunman follows the same process with Sheri as he did with Frank. He gently places his gloved hand over her mouth while putting the barrel of the gun to her face.
Her eyes open. When she sees the guy in the mask, she screams through the fingers tightly cupping her mouth.
“Shut the fuck up,” the gunman says in a firm but calm voice. “If you don’t, I will shoot you in the face.”
Her screams turn into muffled cries. Tears fall from her eyes.
The gunman removes his hand from her mouth and turns on the bedside lamp. It provides just enough light to see her better. “Get out of the bed.” He points and waves to her in a this-way gesture.
“Um…kay,” Sheri whimpers. She pulls the covers off and stands, revealing pink and white lace lingerie. Also, middle-aged but much younger looking than her husband, she has a tight athletic body, black hair with red accents, round firm tits, and a beautiful face.
The gunman stares at how the lingerie fits this woman’s figure with perfection. “You’re not bad looking at all, missy!” He looks her up and down.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
“You see your husband over there on his knees?”
“Yes … I see him. Please don’t hurt us, mister.”
“I need you to walk on over toward him and don’t try anything. Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.” She pleads. “Just don’t hurt us, please. I’ll do what you say.”
The gunman stands behind her as they walk around to the side of the bed where Frank is still on his knees, tied up, mouth taped shut.
“Turn on the light,” the gunman says.
“Okay, okay, I’m doing it, just don’t shoot.” Sheri flips the light switch, and the entire room lights up. “Please don’t hurt us,” she says again and again.
The light reveals the intruder’s black ski mask, dark long-sleeved sweatshirt, and green camouflage pants tucked into combat boots.
“Shut. The fuck. Up. I won’t say it again.”
Sheri frantically nods. She will obey.
Part 2.... https://steemit.com/fiction/@acheyward/the-moonlight-betrayal-1