by Maegan Abel
“I hear you have a kid,” he said casually, giving my hair a sharp tug before releasing it. I felt the command in the movement. Head up. I kept my chin tilted toward him as he stepped in front of me but inside, I was screaming. I’d been good about hiding my suspicions about being pregnant. But even through my denial, I knew. I’d known that day in the shop. The memory of that day sliced through me and I felt the burn of tears in the backs of my eyes.
No! I mentally screamed at myself, envisioning metal cargo crates in my mind to shove everything aside. I had to keep calm. I had to keep my head.
“A son, if my source is correct. Conner.”
I remembered Jake’s words the day in the basement.
No… It was more of a whimper through my mind this time as his name pierced my heart and soul at once. I’d rather this have been about me being pregnant than about him.
A shocked cry escaped me as his hand connected with my cheek. I started to let myself fall again but he pulled me back up to my knees. I knew what he was after. Confirmation. He wanted me to admit his information was correct or beg for Conner’s safety. But I couldn’t do either. Begging for Conner’s safety wouldn’t do any good now. My body shook violently with the effort of holding myself together. It wouldn’t take much for him to break me now.
“You disappoint me,” he said softly, but his carnal grin told me he was delighted.
He stepped closer and I dropped my eyes to the floor, trying to scramble through my thoughts enough to grasp on to some piece of my strength, but it was slipping away. Fabric rustled and his button down shirt wrapped around my eyes a moment later. I jerked automatically and his grip tightened before I could tell my body to stop. I sat motionless except for the uncontrollable shaking as he tied the shirt in place, effectively blocking any vision. It was easier in the darkness. In his quest for cruelty, he was doing me a favor.
“Hmm…where to start?” he mused to himself, his voice slipping into an eerily unaccented English. My spine straightened as the deceptiveness heightened yet another layer of my defenses. I had no idea what was happening anymore and the loss of any semblance of reality began to concern me.
I inhaled sharply as his hand gripped my upper arm, pulling me to my feet. I stumbled, part of me wanting to fight and the other trying to cooperate while blind. He shoved me and I fell forward, catching myself with my hands in one of the corners of the room. He turned me and roughly pushed me against the wall, my body cradled into the corner as I tried and wished I could make myself smaller. No. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t me. I straightened, forcing my body to cooperate while I worked on clearing my head.
“Kneel,” he said in a deadly calm. I lowered myself as steadily as I could manage to the floor, knowing what was coming. I could take it. I didn’t need to see, I didn’t want to see. I was feeling the disconnect again, finding it in my mind as the sound of metal, the sound of a belt buckle being removed, helped to remind me of who I was now.
The sound was as unexpected as it was sharp when the belt cracked across my shoulder, radiating a trail of hot pain from my collarbone to my shoulder blade. I screamed but only for a moment as I slumped forward and the second strike came. “Quiet.” I stayed on all fours, my arms trembling as I nodded twice, showing my understanding. This had not been anything like what I’d anticipated.
Another blow came and my back screamed in protest of my mouth’s inability to do so. It was impossible to stop the tears but even as they dampened the makeshift blindfold, I fought to force them back. In only the issued black bra and skirt set, my skin was completely bare. It hurt but it wasn’t the pain making me cry. Pain, I knew how to handle. It was the part of me he’d woken up, the part he’d brought back that I hadn’t been able to shut off in time. It was her feelings, and her need to defend herself, overwhelming me. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to listen for every movement while ignoring everything else in the moment.
It became rhythmic—the sound of the air whistling past the belt, the sound of the belt connecting with my skin, the lick of pain followed by surprisingly soothing numbness. The strikes didn’t get any easier, yet they became more bearable. I couldn’t tell if the injury to my back was causing the numbness but it didn’t seem to matter. The thoughts flitted away the second I had them. The worry dissipating as I stayed as still as I could manage. I hadn’t realized he’d stopped until he lifted my body from the floor and threw me carelessly onto the mattress.
Please, just leave me. It was the only thought left in my mind as the labored breathing began returning my awareness. I whimpered uncomfortably as he pulled my body across the sheets, which may as well have been glass shards by the way it felt on my back.
“I want to know who they are.” He was close, so close, but I didn’t react. I couldn’t figure out how. “Who are the men that attacked our people?” His hand was under my skirt, ripping at the scrap of a thong covering me. I didn’t fight him, there was no point. But I also didn’t answer. He rested himself between my thighs and I didn’t bother to tense. I tuned him out, ignoring his punishing movements as I became aware of the quietness inside my head. I’d done it. I finally put her away again. My lips twitched as I held back a relieved smile. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to lock her away in time.
“Watch.” The blindfold was ripped off and as the blurriness receded, Marco’s sadistic expression came into view. “I’d hate for you to be able to pretend I’m Zane.”
And just like that, the single word brought her back to the surface as if she’d never been gone.
“No!” I cried, not even giving myself permission to speak or move, but I was fighting. She was fighting.
“Yeah, I thought so,” he said, still grinning as he knocked my arms aside, both of his hands wrapping tightly around my throat. “Tell me.”
I didn’t realize what was happening until he glanced over at my right hand, snarling as he took in my raised middle finger.
His hands tightened around my throat but I didn’t bother fighting anymore. She screamed, I screamed, I couldn’t really tell who was who anymore. She was panicking though. I knew that was her because I felt numb. Inside and out. Floating somewhere out of reach. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Chapter Seventeen
To Live or Die
The cold water burned as it beat down against the welts and no doubt open wounds scoring my back. But I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink. I stared completely unseeingly at the edge of the bench in the shower. There was a small chip in the corner of one of the tiles and my eyes knew every tiny crack from the amount of time I’d spent here.
How long had it been?
Hours, probably. Long enough that if I’d been using hot water, it would’ve been cold by now anyway. But I still wasn’t clean. I would never be clean again after that. There were words flitting through my brain, names he’d called me and names I’d thought about myself, but I tried not to focus on them for too long. It hurt. I hurt.
And I was done.
That was the hardest thing to accept. I thought I could handle this. Thought I was strong enough. But when it came down to it, two words broke me.
Zane.
Conner.
Everything good in my life was wrapped around those two and I didn’t know how to put it away again. I’d tried to put the shield back up, I’d been trying since it slipped away, but it was no use. Whatever ground I’d managed to gain, I’d lost again at the thought of their names.
My body ached as I released my death grip from around my knees, straightening my legs as I attempted to regain some feeling in them. My hair clung to my face but as I moved, it pulled on the angry skin of my back and I yelped. Reaching over my shoulder carefully, I gathered my hair and pulled it over one side.
From the day I was taken, I’d known my life was pretty much over. Why not now? There was no guarantee I was pregnant and it could take months to figure out for sure. Even as I tried to convince myself of that, my hands cradled my stomach. But what good w
ould keeping myself alive really do? This would end one of two ways. Either they’d kill me, beat me to the point of losing it, or they’d take it from me after birth and it would be no better off than I was.
With those realizations, my decision was fully made. It was time to let go. I’d done everything I could for those I loved and I wasn’t strong enough to fight anymore. There wasn’t any reason left to fight.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to sob at the thought of never seeing them again, but I’d already known that much. Now, I could remember them instead of trying to forget. I could remember the times I wanted to and keep those with me until the end.
“Tell me something.” Zane’s voice made me jump and I turned to find him perched on the island in the kitchen.
“Get off the counter,” I scolded, tossing the dishtowel at him as I turned back to the sink. I grinned as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and buried his face in my hair. “What?”
“When exactly did you realize you were in love with me?” His question caught me off guard and I tilted my chin up to meet his eyes. His expression looked unconcerned but forced. I held the plate I’d just washed to the side and he took the hint, moving over beside me to dry while I continued washing.
“Umm…I don’t really know,” I lied, keeping my eyes on my work.
“Tell me,” he pressed, taking the plate from me and nudging me with his elbow in the process.
“Ow. No. I don’t remember when exactly,” I said, pretending to be irritated.
“Yes, you do.” He was calling me out.
I sighed. “No, actually. I don’t remember. Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t. But I was just thinking about the morning I realized I was in love with you.” Something about the complete awe in his voice had me glancing up, wanting to see the look that went along with it. The way his eyes softened when they met mine, the emotion I saw there, still shocked me. How was it possible to love someone this much?
He tossed the dishtowel over his shoulder and took the glass from my hand, placing it back in the sink and shutting off the water before cupping his hands around my face. “The first morning you were in my bed and I realized I’d stayed up for hours watching you sleep, I also realized I’d loved you for a long time. I just hadn’t been ready up until that night to let myself feel it. You were sound asleep, snor—”
“I don’t snore!” I cut him off with a scowl and he laughed.
“I’d never felt anything like what I felt in that moment.”
I could feel his words in my heart, in the actual, physical beat of the part that kept me alive. How was that even possible?
“The day we met,” I whispered, staring into his eyes. His brow furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t love you, it wasn’t like that. But when Tish introduced us, when the old, shy me finally looked up into your eyes and shook your hand, I felt it.” I grabbed one of his hands, lowering it to rest over my heart. “Something inside me knew that someday, I would get to be with you forever.”
“Forever is a long time,” he said, his voice sounding strained.
“Still not long enough.” I stretched up on my toes to kiss him softly.
“Ewww…stop kissing,” Conner whined, surprising us both. “You’re always kissing.”
“Sorry, Boog,” I laughed, looking over my shoulder to where Conner stood near the hallway. Zane ran his nose along my jaw.
“How long until bedtime?” he whispered in my ear, his voice husky in that way that sent chills running up my spine.
“Get out of here. Let me finish the dishes.” I shoved at him, shaking my head and laughing.
“You do realize that this shiny square in the counter beside you is a dishwasher, correct?” Zane mocked and I yanked the towel from his shoulder.
“Yes, smart—” I caught myself, turning back to glance at Conner. “Mouth. I don’t trust it.”
“You don’t trust it?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a dishwasher. What’s the worst that could happen? The dishes don’t get clean, you wash them again.”
“Just go,” I laughed, shoving him away again as he shook his head.
“Come on, buddy. Let’s get out of here before Lili’s crazy girl thoughts confuse me further.” Zane winked at me before heading back down the hall with Conner, both of them laughing.
I expected myself to be crying at the memory but I still couldn’t find tears. I’d thought he would propose that evening. I’d waited for him to do it since the day on the boat in Texas. But that same cloud of uncertainty always came over him. He felt like he wasn’t good enough, that the mistakes he’d made and the weight he carried was too heavy. He never fully understood that I wanted to help him carry it. I’d never wanted anything more than a future with him.
With a sigh, I carefully gathered myself to my feet. My entire body hurt, inside and out, but it seemed easier knowing the end was in sight. I shut off the water and didn’t bother with the towel. My skin felt like it was on fire but my eyes were drawn to the mirror. Were they watching me now? Was some sick bastard sitting at home behind his computer stroking his cock to my battered body? I walked over, staring into the reflective surface. The face looking back was marred, her throat bruised with dark handprints and her eyes haunted.
Why?
Why should I feel haunted? Why should I feel anything but relief?
I smiled as the thought eased the heartache. Turning, I headed into the bedroom, not even bothering to dry my hair as it dripped water down my body. I paused in the doorway, shocked to find the room completely clean. Usually, whoever it was that came in to do this, came in while we were back out on the floor. The bed was made, I was assuming there were fresh sheets not streaked with my blood, and in the center was a new uniform. I scowled at it, the message behind the placement clear.
Get back to work.
Taking a deep breath, I put my plan in motion. Shoving the clothes off the bed, I lay across the mattress, carefully burrowing myself into the comforter without causing more injury to my back, and closed my eyes.
Vicious pain radiating from my jaw to my temple ripped me from my pleasant dreams. I cried out, curling into a ball and covering my head with my hands as I tried to figure out what was happening. Pain lashed at my arms and the now familiar sound of the belt brought me back to the present. Once I stopped fighting and relaxed my body, the strikes stopped.
Moments later, another scream sounded, but it wasn’t coming from me.
My head shot up to find Emma standing inside the door, arms wrapped around her stomach as Marco stood in front of her. He looked over his shoulder at me before he struck her again.
“S-stop,” I said, not thinking about the consequences. Marco turned to me, tilting his head to the side.
“Get dressed and get to work. Or you’ll be watching me reenact yesterday with her,” he said, his voice deceptively low and controlled. I swallowed hard, teetering on the edge as he walked calmly from the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Emma and I both stunned in the silence that followed.
“I’m sorry.” It was as hollow as I felt as I sat back down on the edge of the bed. That nagging voice in my head was telling me to do what he said but I knew it was the emotional girl wanting me to care about someone else’s pain.
I looked down at my arms, seeing a few new marks but only one had a small trail of blood appearing in tiny dots at the edge of the broken skin. The one on my face was close to my eye and I could feel the blood sliding down like sweat with my head tilted down.
I jerked when something touched my face, surprised to see Emma standing over me, a damp washcloth in her hand as she wiped, carefully dabbing at the blood there. I snatched the rag from her, holding it gently to my cheek as that stupid, weak part of me took in the red marks on her skin. Fuck. I didn’t want to care but I did.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, sounding more sincere this time.
“Why are you sorry?” she asked, sitting beside me on the edge of the bed.
�
��That you got dragged into this. That they won’t just let me die. That you’re here when I’ve been trying so hard to…” I sighed, shaking my head.
“None of this is your fault. Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay?” she asked, showing more concern and patience than I had any right to ask for.
I ignored her small gasp as she took in the damage to my back, but she cleaned the wounds without commenting. After taking time to fix the mess I’d made of my hair by leaving it wet yesterday, I carefully slid into the clothes I’d shoved onto the floor.
“Where am I tonight?” I asked, knowing Emma would’ve checked the schedule.
“Dancing first, then VIP,” she said and I sighed. Neither would be easy with the way my body felt but that was no doubt the point—they wanted me to remember this.
As I followed Emma out, we slipped through the crowd and into the backstage area. I stared at the makeup, knowing I’d never be able to hide the abuse done to my body. I didn’t even try. I added eyeshadow, pretending not to notice the stares by the few other girls back there. I watched the clock as I swiped the deep red color across my lips. Two minutes until I had to work.
I had two choices: try to fuck up enough for them to kill me on the spot and hope Emma is spared or just quit trying as hard. If I wasn’t earning them good money, I would be replaced. I put on my performance smile as I walked out onto the stage. I could perform, I’d been doing it all my life in one way or another.
