by M Never
I turn my head slightly. “You knew who I was the whole time?”
“Uh-huh. I know all Nino’s girls.” He runs the flat part of the blade down my cheek.
“Are you the reason he showed up at Clip that night?” I shiver fearfully.
“Yup,” he confirms with no remorse.
“Why? Just to hurt him?”
“So he knew the truth. So he could see you for what you really are. A filthy fucking whore who’ll open her legs for anyone.”
“What about that missing girl?”
“What about her?”
“Does she even exist?”
“Sure, she did.”
“Did?”
“You think you’re the first nasty slut I’ve strung up?” I feel a deep stab into my shoulder blade, and I scream as he drags the blade across my back.
“Oh god, please stop!” I cry from the torturous pain.
“I’m just getting started, sunshine. You just made me hard as fucking hell.” He cuts me again, and I cry out. It hurts so bad, like pins and needles set on fire. He cuts me once more, pushing the blade in deeper, and I lose control, sobbing hysterically, helplessly suspended in midair. There’s no place to go or run or hide. I’m at the mercy of a lunatic, and he’s taking full advantage.
“Please, stop,” I gasp, my face soaked with salty tears, and my back soaked with seeping blood.
“Not if you’re going to beg like that.” His voice is so evil, so aroused, so demented that hope literally dies in my gut.
I lose track of everything as he cuts. Cuts and cuts and cuts and cuts—until I’m a blubbering mess on the brink of unconsciousness. That’s when Slade grabs me by the throat and presses his rock hard cock into my ass, showing me exactly what my suffering does to him.
“No!” I scream unintelligibly. My throat raw and my voice horse.
“Fuck, yes.” His tone is so disgustingly dark; I can actually see the end of my life coming at me like headlights through a tunnel. He holds the knife up to my throat, and I feel the blade pinch my skin. “You wet for me, sunshine?” He runs his hand down my torso until he reaches the apex of my thighs. I try to keep from trembling as he roughly sinks his finger inside me.
“Dry as a bone. How disappointing. We’ll have to fix that.”
He pumps his hand forcefully, and it feels like sandpaper rubbing against my inner walls.
I whine feebly in enormous pain with the knife still pressed against my jugular.
“Come on, sunshine.” He smashes his fingers against my clit and then yanks on my piercing so hard he nearly rips it out. A shrill scream escapes my mouth as I shake helplessly in my bonds.
“That’s right you little slut, scream. No one can help you now.”
He drops the knife from my throat right before I hear the distinct sound of his belt buckle.
I literally go slack from stress, my limbs turning to Jell-O.
“Ready to find out what a real cock feels like?”
I want to bellow no, but I’m convinced that will only feed the fire. Only make him want to hurt me more. So I bite my lip, concentrating on the new pain between my legs and stay quiet.
“Tara!” He grabs my hair and yanks my head back, the binds cutting into my wrists from the force. “Tell me you want to feel a real cock!” Slade’s caught on to my little charade, but I just stay silent, retreating into my own fear.
“Fine, you won’t scream? Then I’ll make you. I’m gonna ram my dick right up your ass. Let’s see how quiet you are then.” He grabs both of my ass cheeks and spreads them apart. I break then, giving him exactly what he wants. “I want to feel a real cock! I want to feel real cock!” I screech frantically, a complete wreck.
“Too fucking late,” he rages, and I brace myself for more unbearable pain.
There’s suddenly a loud crash from behind us. Time seems to stand still as I hear Philly’s voice.
“Get the fuck away from her!”
I can’t see what’s happening, but I can feel Slade actually chuckle. “Get lost, kid. You probably don’t even know how to use that thi—”
BANG!
I startle from the sudden gunshot, trying my hardest to turn my head to see what happened.
“Philly? Philly!”
“I’m fine. Right here.” His voice is distant and his breathing is wheezy. “Jesus, Tara. Jesus Christ!” He scrambles to untie my ankles. “We need to get the fuck out of here.” He frees one leg, and my arms bear more weight.
“There’s a knife somewhere on the floor,” I tell him desperately.
“Way ahead of you.” He frantically saws on the rope tied to my other ankle. Philly then quickly climbs onto the bed in front of me.
“Hurry!” My arms can’t take much more.” I see him thinking in the soft light, trying to figure out the best way to cut me down.
“Sorry, there’s no better way to do this.” He hacks through one of the ropes by my wrist, and I drop like the dead weight I am. Philly tries to break my fall by rapidly hooking an arm under one of mine, but as soon as he touches me, I yelp, my entire body lighting up with pain.
“Okay. It’s okay.” He cuts my other arm loose, and I collapse to the ground, crying frailly.
“Come on, come on.” He rushes me. “We need to get the fuck out of here now.” He wraps the cover from the bed around my naked body. As soon as the material touches my open wounds, I see stars.
I’m slow moving but determined to get the hell out of this house alive. I’m barely standing when the sound of a helicopter hovers overhead. It sounds so close, like it’s going to land right on the roof.
“This is the police!” A robotic voice broadcasts deafeningly. “We have the premises surrounded! Come out with your hands up!”
Philly and I both freeze, and then there’s an explosion. We hit the deck, huddling together as what sounds like World War III breaks out. There’s shooting, yelling, and crashing, and spotlights flashing through the windows.
We can barely hear anything over the helicopter blades. Then our room is raided by several men all at once. Philly raises his gun, but at the last second, I catch the features of one of the faces in the bright spotlight.
“No!” I grab Philly’s hand, and the gun goes off, chaos ensuing all at once. CJ falls to the ground clutching his chest, Kayne tackles Philly, pinning him facedown, while more armed men flood the room. I don’t know who to go to first. I don’t want Kayne to hurt Philly, but I don’t want to ignore a wounded CJ lying on the floor. I no longer know which way is up as I retreat into my head, just rocking in a ball, muttering to myself. “Make it stop. Make it all stop.”
“Tara?” Someone grabs my face. “Tara. Look at me. Medic!” The person screams as if he has split personalities. “We need a goddamn medic! Tara?” His voice becomes calm. “It’s over. Look at me.”
I draw my eyes up to Jett’s. “Can you stay with me? I need you to stay with me. CJ is bleeding.”
“CJ?” I repeat like I’m driving out of a dense fog.
“It’s just a flesh wound.” I hear CJ’s voice and nearly cry.
“That might be true, but you lost like twenty pints of blood today. It could be fatal.”
“Fatal?” I break away from Jett and crawl over to CJ a broken mess.
“Jett, that’s more blood than what’s in the human body.” He rambles.
“You know what I mean, smartass.” Jett peers over at us.
“Hey, shortcake.” CJ smiles up at me loopy. “You shot me.”
“I’m sorry.” I lose it, laughing and crying all at once.
“I forgive you.” His vacant gaze makes him look like he’s on another planet.
I don’t even get a chance to touch him before paramedics are applying pressure to his wound and giving him oxygen.
I slide back helplessly as he’s placed on a stretcher and hurried out of the room.
“Come on, let’s get you looked at, too.” Jett touches my back, and I cry out in agony.
Jett backs of
f but looks down at me, gravely concerned.
“Can you stand up?” he asks delicately.
I nod, wiping my runny nose on the blanket.
“Let’s go into the bathroom,” he suggests.
“What about CJ?”
“He should be fine. It’s you I’m worried about at the moment.” He glances back at a dead Slade lying on the floor. Philly shot him right in the temple. I guess he does have a little Nino in him after all. Speaking of . . .”Where’s Philly?” I ask distraught.
“He’s being detained, but he’s fine,” Jett tells me as I stand slowly and shuffle my way into the adjoining room.
Jett flicks the switch, and I squint like I haven’t seen daylight in years. Then I notice his facial expression in the mirror. He looks about as white as CJ was lying on the carpet. The comforter is a light gray color, so I know exactly what he sees. Blood. Lots of it seeping through the fabric.
“I need to look.” He tries to peel the blanket off gingerly. I flinch right before I close my eyes and tremble from pain, shame, and shock.
“Oh shiiiit,” he expels softly.
Tears run freely down my cheeks as all different kinds of men come and go, in and out of the room. I catch sight of Slade’s body through the crack in the door being covered by a sheet and I shudder.
“Tara. I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me.” He turns me to face him, his big turquoise eyes filled with concern and compassion. Ellie told me Jett was one of the most genuine people she had ever met. That he helped her through one of the toughest times in her life. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. As I stand here completely naked, with only my arms covering my breasts, I feel completely safe.
“Did he hurt you any other way?” he asks, searching my eyes.
“You mean did he assault me?” I sniff.
Jett nods.
“No. It didn’t get that far.” I swallow the bile threatening to come up. “Philly stopped him right before.”
“Well, at least Philly has done one thing right.”
“What’s going to happen to him?” I ask, blatantly worried.
“Probably nothing. He was as much a victim as you were.”
I breathe relieved. “I couldn’t live with myself if something bad happened to him.
“Nothing bad is going to happen to him. I give you my word. Okay?”
“Okay.” I blubber.
“Stay here, sweet girl. I’m going to grab a paramedic so we can get you out of here.”
I don’t know where it comes from, but I suddenly bubble over with raw emotion.
“I’m not a sweet girl!” I unleash a river of tears, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. “I’m disgusting, dirty, filthy. A whore.” I sob into my hands, overcome with guilt and unbearable regret. “It’s all my fault.”
“Hey,” Jett says smoothly, taking my face and urging me against him. “It’s not your fault. Nothing is your fault.”
“I’m a terrible person.” I contradict him.
“No, you’re not. Trust me. You made a terrible decision, but that does not make you a terrible person. CJ wouldn’t love a terrible person.”
“I don’t deserve him.” I rest my head on Jett’s shoulder, soaking his shirt with tears.
“Let him decide that.” He pets my head tenderly, and I swear it puts me under a spell. I sigh, exhausted, as Jett holds me close.
“How can he ever love me now?”
“How can he not?” Jett coos. “Everything is going to be okay, sweet girl.”
“How do you know?” I challenge him, desolately.
He actually chuckles.
“Because I know everything.”
I FEEL THE PAIN IN my shoulder before I even open my eyes.
“How was your nap?” Kayne peers down at me with that wicked gaze of his.
“Not long enough.” I flutter my eyes drowsily.
“That’s probably just the morphine talking. Fun stuff, huh?”
“Sure.” I sink into the pillow right before I realize what’s missing. “Where’s Tara?” I nearly shoot out of bed.
“She’s fine.” Kayne pushes me down.
“I need to see her.” I try to get up again, but the big guy denies me.
“There’s a reason I’m standing here.” He crosses his arms authoritatively.
“So I don’t go anywhere?” I grumble.
“Precisely.”
“She’s really okay?” I want a guarantee.
Kayne’s stone expression slips. “You can go see her in a few. There’s something we need to show you first.”
“That’s all I get?”
He nods steadfastly.
“You needed two blood transfusions,” he announces randomly after a moment of silence as if trying to make casual conversation.
“That’s wonderful. How many did Tara need?”
Kayne shakes his head impassively. He’s not going to give me a dime. If it were him, and I was withholding information about Ellie, he would have a scalpel to my throat by now.
“She didn’t need any, thankfully.” Jett strolls into my hospital room holding an iPad.
“Shut the door. Lock it.” He makes a head gesture at Kayne.
I perk up. That shit is never good.
“What’s up?” I glare at Jett, beyond worried.
“CJ, we wanted to show you this first. Alone. Just the three of us.”
“CJ?” They never, ever call me CJ. I start to sweat, the morphine’s effects completely dissipating.
Jett and Kayne flank my bed, and then Jett sets the tablet down on my lap.
“You know him right?” He points at Slade walking into the Long Island house.
“Yes,” I confirm, confused.
“Keep watching.”
And I do. I watch Slade as he converses with Nino as if they’re old friends, watch as he pours drink after drink while the house fills with dirty, disgusting men. I watch as he slips into the corner of the room as girl after girl is auctioned off right in front of him. I become physically sick. Then I watch as Tara is pushed into the room. I watch as Nino puts her up like property, and Slade steps forward to claim her on the spot. I force myself to watch as he humiliates her in front of half a dozen people, and then I try to throw the iPad across the room.
“I’ve seen enough.” I’m boiling with rage. “Where the fuck is he?”
“Dead,” Kayne informs me.
“During the raid?” My stare is as sharp as a razor blade.
Jett shakes his head and flips over the white device.
“I don’t want to see.”
“You’ll want to see this.” He punches a few things on the screen and the images change. My eyes widen to the size of satellites as I see Tara strung up like a fucking fish in front of Slade. I shake excessively as I witness him torture her, and listen to her scream as he cuts all over her skin, blood running like a river down her back. Then I watch as Philly breaks down the bedroom door and takes Slade out, lickety-split. I get a second’s worth of satisfaction in the way he kills him execution style, but it’s squashed immediately as a tidal wave of conflicted emotion pulls me out to sea. Where I drift at a loss. Alone and confused. Slade saved my life. He wasn’t only a friend, he was a brother. And I realize now, I didn’t know him at all.
Tears actually escape down my cheeks. Fucking tears. I haven’t cried since I was twelve, but today is a solemn day.
“We only showed you so you could believe it for yourself.” Jett puts his hand on my shoulder.
I nod silently. I understand, I really do.
“I want to see her.”
I need to see her.
“Don’t you think you should take a few minutes?” Kayne asks. “Process all this?”
I gaze up at him dangerously. “No.”
THE REASON I NEED TO see Tara is because my world is in mass chaos right now, and she is the only thing that makes sense.
She is the only thing that can pull me b
ack from completely losing my mind.
Betrayal. It’s a tough pill to swallow. Today, tomorrow, forever. I find myself questioning everything. I’m trained to see through lies, and I missed one of the biggest lies of all. Our friendship blinded me; that’s what Jett would say. It’s normal, human. The rational part of me knows he’s right. The irrational part—not so much. The irrational part wants to bring Slade back to life and kill him all over again.
I watch Tara sleep peacefully. I don’t have the heart to wake her. After everything she’s been through, she deserves the rest. I do, however, spy the bandages covering her entire back. She’s sleeping on her side, her hospital gown open just enough for me to see.
I sit down on the edge of the mattress. I can’t even begin to imagine the hell she’s been through.
I take a piece of her hair between my fingers and run my thumb over the bloodstained end. My heart breaks and hammers all at the same time.
This is my fault. I should have never left her side.
As if she senses my presence, her eyes pop open to find me.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“Hey.” I try to smile, but the sentiment is empty. I’m too upset to even fake it.
“Are you okay?” she asks meekly.
Am I okay? She was the one sexually assaulted, tortured, and mutilated, and she’s asking if I’m okay.
I choke back the emotion. “It takes more than losing a few pints of blood to get rid of me.” I slide my hand across the sheet and link our fingers together. Tears instantly well in Tara’s eyes as she takes in the bandages wrapped around both of my wrists.
“I’m so sorry.” She apologizes distraughtly. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.” She starts to sob, and I nearly lose my mind.
“Tara, there’s nothing to be sorry about and nothing is your fault.” I scoot closer to her and rest my forehead against hers.
“People keep telling me that, but I don’t believe it.” She sniffles. I take her face in my hand as gently as possible and drop kisses near the corner of her eye, tasting the salty tears that are staining her skin.
“Majority opinion rules.”
She gazes back at me like she wishes that were true. “Besides, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”
