by Sandra Raine
"Now, Jane," my father said leveling down the sides of my hair before those hands settled mildly on the frailty of my shoulders while those tears I had been holding in for the last few minutes streaked heavily down my face. Raising my chin to meet his icy gaze, my father then pledged, "In time, and when you've proven your loyalty to me and my business, I'll be happy to answer any questions you may have particularly the Czech in question. Until then consider yourself on probation. You fuck up, you step out of line. . .I'll fuck you up and I'll put you back in line. Understood?" my father then assured leaving me to sniffle and to nod as he stole another kiss from my trembling lips. "Now go upstairs and get ready, get all prettied up for me. I'll be up in a few."
Chapter 52
The room was dark.
Or maybe I thought it was dark considering I had been wearing a blindfold for what seemed like days. I couldn't raise my arms nor touch my hands to the blindfold 'cause they were tied back against the headboard rendering me immobile. I couldn't even kick up my legs 'cause they, too, were individually tied down to the bed. I was slightly spread eagled, naked, and the last man who visited me actually took pity on me and draped a sheet over my body. He even managed a kiss on my cheek. He smelled spicy and spoke with a sweet broken accent, Armenian or something. I begged him not to leave me but he politely shushed me and left.
When I heard the door click shut I realized I was all alone and that's when my tears began to stream down my face in heavy spools. I could feel the blindfold starting to soak again and I knew I had to stop crying or else suffer the unbearable of burning sweat around my eyes.
I squirmed in my confined space and twisted my wrists. The soft neckties - I assumed - rubbed gently against my wrists and my ankles. But still sensing no escape I cried out and that's when I felt a strong hand clasped down over my mouth.
"Stop it, Jane!" Justin seethed. I stopped squirming. A sense of elation filtered through me 'cause I wasn't alone in my darkness.
"I can't see." I sobbed. Justin took mercy on me and removed the blindfold. At first my eyes burned against the soft light shining in from the only window in the room. And when they finally adjust my perception grasped that it was late in the afternoon. The dingy curtain dangling from a tension rod was a sunny yellow, and the walls were painted an obvious flat white. The bed felt Queen sized 'cause it was roomy and it faced the bedroom door. There was a four tier dresser without its mirror next to the door. The ceiling above me looked like it was getting ready to cave in on top of me. And when I shifted that gaze from the ceiling just a little to the right of me, I found Justin staring down at me in a state of inconvenience.
"I want to go home," I then cried out to Justin like the lost little girl I truly was.
"There is no home," Justin stated flatly. He left my side and crossed to the dresser and lit a cigarette. "Are you ready to work for your father?" Justin casually probed through a plume of smoke while he tossed the plastic lighter onto the dresser.
My father, I remembered suddenly, particularly his last words about going to “work” for him and what had followed:
As I inched my way slowly toward the foyer to ascend the staircase to my cell in the sky, two things had crossed my mind in that dreadful moment: One, I could either go upstairs and surrender my soul to the perilous of my father's business; or two, I could make a break for the front door and fight for my life?
I remembered stealing a glance over my quivering shoulder and noticing that no other eye was on me except for Dominic's. My father, Bob Ray, and Henry Church along with Justin and Josh were engaged in a conversation about the other girls, their whereabouts, and their concerns for talking to me while Doug was busy trying to comfort Tanya's uneasiness which only told me that despite no longer "working" for the organization still left a bitter taste in her mouth. From there I then remembered glancing back onto Dominic and holding his suspenseful gaze against my wavering one. And through the silence of his eyes is when he told me it was time for me to "run" again only this time alone.
I probably could have gotten away if I hadn't taken Bree. But no matter my situation I couldn't bear to leave Bree behind and in the very hands of the monsters who had oppressed me for so long.
So instead of heading right and out the front door, I instead headed left and ascended the spiral staircase in sluggish and apprehensive steps 'cause even I knew that for every step taken up those stairs meant I was leaving myself at the discretion for my father and the other's to do whatever they saw fit with me. But once I neared the center of the stairs however, something within my gut began to direct me otherwise 'cause all of a sudden I stopped ascending the stairs and turned around. And in that moment, and in spite of my concern for Bree, I decided against the perilous of my father. I figured the only way I was going to save Bree and myself was to run to the police. And even I knew that once the police grabbed wind of my parents' doings, they would surely be arrested, and Bree and I would be placed in CPS but at least we would be safe from harm, and now I was willing to risk it.
I took a deep, deep breath, and like the desert once beneath my feet, I kicked up my heels and ran down the stairs in huge leaps and bounds, crossing the foyer and bolting out the front door, running at full speed.
And I ran.
And ran.
And ran. My body surging through the taste of freedom, the kiss of heat, the breeze of elation, and then. . .just like that. . .I was snatched up from my bout with euphoria. . .I hadn't even cleared the driveway when it happened.
It took Justin, Josh and Doug to drag me back into the house and up to my room. Meanwhile, I kicked and fought and screamed and cursed and cried, and my verbal display of terror went unanswered with a new nightmare that began with my own brother beating me to a pulp.
And somewhere within the severity of his beating, I passed out.
Now I was in this room. It has been several days now, I think. Or it could have been weeks considering that I could literally smell the filth of my own flesh and the filth of the "John's" inhabiting every inch of my body. I want to take a shower. But I don't speak of it, not to Justin who still continues to await my answer to his question of "working" for my father.
I turned away from having stared at Justin for what seemed like forever, and just as the bedroom door opened with Doug strolling in and smiling down at me. His smile unnerved me. And I dream constantly about killing him, killing all of them except for Dominic and Henry Church who I hadn't seen since before my attempted escape. Doug and Justin both exchange calculating smirks before their perverse and intrusive eyes settle on me. I don't look at them. I don't speak to them. I don't even breathe on them.
From the corner of my eye I watched as Doug leans across the bed and slowly removes the sheet from my body. Aside from my stark nakedness, the hairs growing around my bikini area, legs and armpits, and the filth of the other men, meaning, their semen, their sweat and some of my blood, it is disturbingly obvious that Doug is fascinated by what he sees. I sense it in his eyes. I sense it in his touch. His fingers trickle up on one of my legs and the sensation felt like a bunch of tiny spiders until those fingers transcend into a hand and settle callously at the base of my throat. Doug then leans over my face. With his hungered mouth dangerously close to mine, he toyed, "Are you ready for another beating, Sis, or have we broken you down enough?" I ignored Doug and continued to gaze at the ceiling.
In this cruel and sick and disgusting world I am not here. I am somewhere else. . .in Las Vegas with Henry Church, with Dominic in his bedroom, with Bree at Disneyland. Henry is babysitting me in front of the TV. Dominic is making love to me. Bree is laughing it up with me in Cinderella's Castle. . ."I'll take that as a 'no' then." And the amusement in Doug's tone forces me to brace myself.
The room is starting to spin again, particularly when Doug unzips his Dockers and gets on top of me. I immediately turn away from him so I don't see his face while he's raping me, raping the little of what was left of our kinship right before the blood bond turns into
water. And when Doug is through raping me, when he's through having his thrill, when he's through punishing his little sister for being a bad little girl by not listening to their daddy, by not doing what their daddy told her to do, and for defying their daddy 'cause no one had ever defied him, not even Tanya with her daddy. Tanya, I was told, never defied Bob Ray. And for that I am the bad one. I am the unlucky one. I am the deserving one.
Doug props himself up. He then raises his hand and I scream.
And scream.
And scream until I can no longer scream.
I am still in the dark. The blindfold is over my eyes again. More men visit me. Doug and Justin they continue to rape and beat me daily, sometimes hourly.
What day is it? I ask no one in particular.
I'm missing school, yes? I say to know one in particular.
Somebody help me. . .please? I whisper to no one in particular, and especially not to God. I dare not speak to God. I have lost my faith in God. There is no God. I have put my faith in the Devil for he seemed to be the only one answering my prayers.
The room is quiet. Eerily quiet. No one has checked in on me since. . .Oh, God, I can't remember?. . .And then. . .a voice. And not just any voice, but a voice who had given me life from his semen. . .my father.
"It's been ten days now, Jane. You're not missing school, you're being home schooled. And I can help you if you let me."
My father draped a blanket over my body. I take it that he is bothered by what he sees, or else he would leave me exposed, and later take advantage of me the way Doug and Justin had been doing to me for the last ten days. But my father is a gentleman. He's kind. He's soft spoken. He's merciful, but he's also a businessman, a businessman who doesn't bargain particularly when it comes to sex and money. They say money is the root of all evil. . .I say the person holding the money is the root of all evil as it begins with them. My father speaks again. And I listen. . .desperately.
"I'm tired, Jane," he woefully complained as if he were the one taking the screwings up the ass. "Don't you want to go home? Don't you want to go home to the comfort of your family and friends and all your pretty little things?" My father is stroking my hair as he says these things to me. His voice is soft and gentle and condescending, almost convincing. "Don't you think you've been broken down enough, or do you want to continue?"
But if I give in, I will have let him win.
Why are you being so fucking stubborn, Jane? Diamond bitches at me.
What are you trying to accomplish? She then asks. I mean, it's just sex, Jane. You can have control over everything else.
I bite back my tears, my pride, and give in.
Okay, Diamond I muttered, I'm ready to go home now.
"Jane?" My father impatiently croons. Yet, I don't answer. "Diamond?" His voice then grows stern. I turn toward him and continue to listen. I can smell his cologne - Obsession. He reminds me of home. My heart aches to go home.
"I have a condition?" I finally challenged without giving it a second thought. My father grunts. Somewhere around the room I hear an annoying sigh. There is someone else in the room. I cleared my senses and smelled the spent scent of cigarette smoke and peppermint - Justin was also in the room.
"You. . .have a condition?" my father mused.
"I want to work for Dominic."
"Dominic is doing something else."
"Either I work for Dominic, or I don't work at all."
"Are you threatening me?"
"No. But I can sense you losing money."
"Jane, sweetheart, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I'm still making money despite your predicament."
"Yes, and it's petty." I insulted forcing my father to fall silent. I had his attention. And I continued. "You think I don't know the difference between a man who has money and a man who doesn't? They all have their own distinct scent."
My father yanked off the blindfold from around my eyes. When my eyes once again adjust to the light dimming through the window I can very well see that he's very upset, and I fix it, fast!
"I'm not being disrespectful," I said both apologetically and informally. "I just want you to know that I know these things." My father removed the ties from around both my wrists and ankles. I then sprung up suddenly 'cause the bile that had been building during the distress was now at the base of my throat. My father quickly jumped to his feet, dragging me off the bed with him and toward the direction of the bedroom door. My feet stumbled alongside him 'cause I had actually forgotten how to walk, and rushed down the extensive hall.
From a near distance I glimpsed salvation in the form of a shining porcelain throne. I pry myself from my father's grasp and stumbled further down the hall, straight into the bathroom, and vomited into the toilette bowl.
Tanya walked into the bathroom minutes later. I flushed the toilette and make an attempt to stand up straight but my legs still felt unbalanced. I almost lost myself over the commode but Tanya grabs hold of my arm. "Thanks," I muttered.
"Uh huh," Tanya, too, mustered before clearing her throat. "You're stuff and toiletries are in your bag. We'll be waiting for you in the lounge."
I emerged from the bathroom shampooed, shaven and douched a half hour later. My hair was still damp but I didn't care. I was just glad to be clean and anxious to get back home.
Closing the bathroom door behind me I quickly notice that there is quite a bit of commotion going on all around me. I heard whimpering from behind a closed door to my left. The sound is that of a girl. I shift my attention down the long hall before me and count three other bedroom doors. The hall is somewhat dark and dreary. The walls are a flat taupe and the floor is of hardwood and drastically worn down. At the farthest end of the hall however, there is a window with bars, and just beneath that window a man, possibly in his early forties and dark looking. He was sitting in a chair and smoking a cigarette. I can see him staring at me through the plumes of smoke escaping his mouth every few seconds or so. He's dressed in black and leather. My ears suddenly tuned up a notch, and I heard more whimpering coming from the other surrounding doors.
I glanced to my right and there is another long hall twinned to the one I'm standing in. There is an older woman dressed in a house gown of some sort. She's arguing with a man, possibly a "John", in a language I cannot grasp. . .maybe Spanish? And standing beside her are two girls, maybe twelve, thirteen? They're both petite, underdeveloped and frightened. The woman keeps grabbing the girl with the straggly blond hair and shoving her toward the man who keeps shaking his head. And she keeps shaking the girl until the man eventually gives in and hands the woman some money. The woman then counts it. Satisfied, she then pushes the blond girl in his direction.
"Go!" She barks at the girl. The girl sniffles and nods. The man takes her by the hand and leads her into one of the rooms.
I stared passed the greedy woman and noticed more doors and they, too, are all closed. I also hear more whimpering. I assume I'm in a brothel of some sort.
I shifted my attention back to the door to the left of me. I curled my hand around the doorknob and gave it an anxious turn. The room is semi-dark. I hear the faint sound of a radio. And just beneath that sound, heavy breathing. I peered further into the room and glimpsed a man screwing some girl beneath him. I only see her legs, and they are parted. I really can't see her personally, or her face 'cause she is tiny beneath his burliness, almost invisible like. The girl tries to moan to please the man but only sounds like she's crying instead. I quietly shut the door with my heart breaking for her and for the other girl in the other hall. I held my tears and turned back around to leave but I unexpectedly bump into the man dressed in black and leather. My heart stopped beating. And I was forced to catch my breath especially when I looked up and caught a reflection of the future and what awaited me in his eyes. The man looked of Latin decent. He had fresh hair stubs around his chin and neck. I expected him to say something to me perhaps even a proposition but he just nodded and walked away. And I don't know why but I gazed down
at myself and noticed two things that both comforted and frightened me: My breasts had gotten bigger, and my mind had adapted.
I cringed.
Chapter 53
Diamond is a sex slave.
Jane is the obedient and doting daughter.
By day, I am Jane. By night, I am Diamond.
I am observed 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and I'm rarely left alone. I do as I am told, I am told what to do.
My life at home is still pretty normal for the average American teen. So is the family life. I still sit at the dinner table and converse but I try not to speak to much 'cause I didn't care to speak to them - my fake "family".
In the hours before my alter ego "Diamond" I complete household chores, homework and occasionally I baby sit Bree. Sometimes I go shopping with my fake mother, Helena Ray and Tanya who've. Sometimes we go out to dinners, the movies, the theatre. My mother addresses me as if nothing is wrong. My fake father still addresses me lovingly. And my fake brother Doug still regards me as he had always regarded me with care and compassion. And Bree who still remains very real to me. . .well lately she hasn't been herself. I figured her aloofness was merely a reaction to me, toward my sudden detachment with our family. Bree says nothing about it. But when she does try, I ignore her and she gets even more sad.
Dominic and I are forced to keep our distance from one another - punishment for our unconventional behavior. But I didn't mind as long as I get to see him even if it was from a distance. The only time we are allowed to stand so close to one another is when he escorts me to work with Doug, my father, and Bob Ray trailing closely behind.
Occasionally Dominic will slip into my bedroom when it's not being guarded by Justin or Josh to kick of his shoes and lie down next me. Dominic and I, we never talk as we always try to remain silent. Sometimes Dominic will slide an arm around my body and hold me close to him. Sometimes Dominic will bring a hand to my face and caress the fresh bruises. And other times he'll just touch my face just to touch it. But every now and then when Dominic believes I'm sleeping, he'll confess quite regrettably, 'I should had never called your father.'
