The Shatterproof Heart

by Loretta Lost

  As my anger builds, I feel myself start to grow stronger.

  I definitely don’t need her anymore. I don’t.

  “Thank you, my darling,” Benjamin says, “for letting me live. That’s why I let you live, just now, when I hit your femoral artery. I realized I was going too far, and I stopped the bleeding. Because I love you.”

  Looking down at my leg, I see the deep gash in my thigh that has been stitched up. I grit my teeth together. It looks like a professional job. He must have a doctor here, on standby. A torture assistant?

  It enrages me that someone would help him do this.

  “Serenity, my darling, this is what families do. Families get into huge fights, and do unspeakable things to each other. Then they don’t speak for a few years. But it always works out in the end! They always forgive each other, because that’s how love works. And we love each other! You’re my family, princess. And you are happy to be with daddy again, aren’t you?”

  Pulling my eyes away from my injured thigh, I blink away blood to look at Benjamin’s face. He is a skeleton. All I see is a skeleton. I take several deep breaths, struggling against multiple disadvantages. The heroin, the head injury, the loss of blood, and my own madness—then I see, through the haze, that Benjamin’s face has been disfigured. There is a bandage over his nose.

  I recall something.

  A smile takes over my face.

  Snow bit his fucking nose off. It seems like he had to get it surgically reattached.

  Good girl.

  There is also a bluish spot in the middle of his forehead, indicating that I may have slammed my head into his. That must be why my neck is also restrained, now. I am just glad to see that I am not the only one covered in injuries. There are also teeth marks on his neck, so deep that they surely drew blood. I stare at the teeth marks carefully, wishing she had gone just a little bit deeper. Even while tied up, she isn’t as defenseless as I thought.

  I feel such relief and pleasure at these small accomplishments.

  “You’re smiling,” Benjamin says, and he seems pleased. “Does that mean you agree? We are family, and you love me, my dear?”

  I ignore this question, but I do feel clear enough to speak to him. “How did you find me?”

  “You’ve asked me that already,” he says in disappointment, “but I did hit you on the head with this hammer, so I understand your momentary forgetfulness. I took your DNA when you were younger, and put it in the system. I knew you would go looking for your parents, for your family—so I had the labs closely monitored for any activity surrounding your DNA.”

  “I see. So when Helen requested my phone number, and called me...”

  “I knew of the match the instant your brother’s DNA was sampled. Long before that girl contacted you. In fact, all those calls were being recorded, my dear. I knew precisely where you would be, and when. I didn’t know your name, but I didn’t need to know that. DNA never lies.”

  Thank goodness he is not my actual father, and I do not share DNA with him. If I get out of this, I think to myself, I will make a greater effort to connect with my biological family. Liam might be an asshole, and my parents might be assholes—but they can’t be as bad as Benjamin. No one can possibly be as bad as Benjamin, or put me through more pain than he has.

  “Enough about that,” the skeletal old man says, waving his hand. “I was wondering if you’d like to have some tea?”

  “Tea,” I repeat with confusion.

  “Oh, just a spot of tea,” he repeats. “You used to love tea when you were a little girl, do you remember? A cube of sugar, and a little cream. Don’t think I didn’t see you stealing those cubes of sugar and popping them into your mouth when I wasn’t looking.”

  Damn. I did like sugar cubes.

  “And the best part,” Benjamin says, leaning forward and speaking in a low voice. “Was the way your lips always tasted like sugar after that. I could lick those little lips of yours all day.”

  My stomach turns over in disgust. How can he say things like this so plainly, in the light of day? I suppose there is no actual daylight in this room. I have no idea whether it is night or day.

  “Let me get the tea,” Benjamin says, rushing to the door.

  I use this moment, when his back is turned, to struggle against my restraints. But I am tightly bound to the chair by my ankles, wrists, and neck. There is no way I can move. Come on, Sophie, I tell myself, although it feels odd using my current name when I have been dragged back to a childhood nightmare. And now he knows that name, so I might need a new one, if I can escape. Unless I can manage to kill him. Then I’ll never have to worry again.

  There must be a way. Just think. You’re good at thinking. You like... thoughts. Thoughts are the key. Find the right thoughts.

  Fuck me. I’m too drugged up to be rational.

  And far too scared to be clever.

  When Benjamin begins dragging items into the room, I realize, to my horror, that he is setting up a children’s tea set. It is plastic and pink, and I don’t ever recall wanting to have this kind of tea party. But he sets it up so meticulously, placing a table in front of my torture chair, and adding chairs around the table, before filling those chairs with stuffed animals. Okay. Okay, this is a little too much. I actually do recognize some of these stuffed animals, and that is disturbing.

  Taking his seat across from me, Benjamin uses the little plastic teapot to pour an invisible cup of tea for me. I stare in disbelief. I’m actually thirsty and hungry—starving, really—and he is pouring me imaginary tea?

  “Would you like some, my dear?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Is it a little too hot? I can blow on it to cool it down.” He then proceeds to blow on my imaginary tea, before placing it down in front of me. “Try it. I think the temperature is just right.”

  I stare at him, with my face twisted up in pity and revulsion. I don’t really know what to say. He’s psychotic. “Do you have coffee?” I ask hoarsely. “I prefer coffee these days.”

  “Don’t be rude,” he says sharply. “I’m serving tea, and that’s what you’ll have! Look at how much effort I’ve put into this for you. Show me some gratitude!”

  I can only stare.

  “Oh, how silly of me!” Benjamin says, reaching for a little plastic bowl. “I forgot the sugar cubes. You still love sugar, don’t you, Serenity?”

  My mouth actually does begin to water as I stare at the sugar cube. I need calories in any way possible. “Yes,” I respond, realizing I will have to be smart about this, and do what it takes to preserve my life.

  “Good,” he says, picking up a sugar cube with his thumb and forefinger, and moving around the table. He places it near my lips, smiling at me. “Take it.”

  I feel sick as I open my lips to take the sugar cube, letting him feed me. The cube does produce a pleasurable sensation against my tongue, but before I can even chew or swallow, Benjamin shoves his fingers in my mouth, grabbing the sugar cube and raking it back and forth against my tongue. He shoves it to the back of my throat, his fingers eagerly scraping the roof of my mouth and my tongue. I nearly gag on his hand as he tries to stuff his whole fist in my mouth, basically fucking my face with his hand. My eyes begin to water.

  “Yeah, that’s right baby girl,” he says in a throaty voice. “Eat that sugar for daddy.”

  I feel like I am choking on his hand. His fingers scraping the inside of my throat make me want to vomit, but I know I need the energy from that sugar cube, and can’t throw it up. I consider biting down on his hand, but I am still attached to the chair, and I don’t want him to use the electricity on me. I try to slide away, or push the chair backward, but it seems fastened to the floor.

  I just have to tolerate it. It won’t last forever. I can get through this.

  I shut my eyes tightly, just trying to wait for it to be over. I can feel Snow inside me, ready to take over, eager to sink her teeth into this man. But I think we need a different strategy, for now. I think I
need to find a way to do this.

  My jaw hurts. My teeth hurt, and my tongue hurts. My lips are being stretched painfully, and my throat feels violated. But soon enough, he pulls his fingers out. Then he licks them.

  My head falls forward, and I am panting.

  Benjamin shoves the empty plastic teacup against my lips. “Drink your tea,” he commands.

  I am beyond frustrated. I don’t know what to do. So, I comply, and mimic a drinking motion. Tears slide out of the sides of my eyes.

  “Good girl,” he says, petting my head like I’m a dog. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? It’s easy to be a good girl, when you try. Now tell me that you love your daddy.”

  My lips are clamped together tightly. I know I should appease him, but I find myself unable to say these words.

  “Serenity? Do you love your daddy?” he demands.

  I try to speak the words, but my pride is stronger. He stares at me in a fury, before grabbing the plastic teapot, and slamming it into the side of my head. The impact causes a ringing in my ears, and it makes me dizzy. I didn’t realize children’s toys could be such effective weapons. He does this over and over again, until blood is trickling down over my ear and the side of my neck.

  “Will you say it now?” he whispers.

  “No,” I rasp.

  He stares at me for several seconds, before dropping the teapot and stepping closer. He reaches down between my legs and forces his hand between my thighs. He ignores my dryness and roughly shoves two fingers inside me. I cry out—not just because of the pain of his fingers, but because of the pain that is already in that region. It feels like he has done some serious harm. I don’t remember how—did he have sex with me? This pain is far greater than just from sex. It feels like he used a spiked club on me, or a baseball bat covered in sandpaper.

  “If you don’t say yes to me,” Benjamin says threateningly, “I’m going to do something you won’t like.”

  I grit my teeth together against the pain, and try to respond with some dignity. “I already don’t like any of this.”

  “No, Serenity. I’m going to do something you really won’t like.”

  When I see the threatening look on his face, my eyes widen in fear. My first thought is that he might threaten Cole. I find myself swallowing in fear, even as he rakes his fingernails across my mutilated vagina. Please don’t hurt Cole. Please. I know that I would do or say absolutely anything he requested if it would preserve Cole’s safety. But does he even know that Cole is alive? Does he even know that I am connected to Cole? I swallow, and my throat is very sore and dry. “What will you do?”

  “I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago,” he says softly, with a sick smile growing across his features. “I’m going to find myself another little girl who likes being touched by daddy. A very young girl. As young as you were.”

  This wakes me up. I feel like all the drugs have been flushed out of my veins instantly, and all the dizziness due to head trauma has disappeared. No. Cole can take care of himself, but this... “Benjamin. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying,” he says quietly, pulling his fingers out of me and placing both hands on my shackled wrists as he leans forward, “that there’s a little girl who reminds me of you, who lives not too far from here. Oh, she’s such a sweetheart. Pigtails and overalls, picnics on plaid. Maybe I should stop wasting all my time on you, and focus my energy on that lovely little thing.”

  My face spasms in fear.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would, princess. I would do it in front of you, and make you watch. Make you pay for all those years you cheated on me with other men, made me jealous, lied to me! I need a good little girl in my life—all that purity and innocence. Someone who will fit into all those pretty little dresses in the closet. Someone who can be the sweet little angel that you could never be.”

  He clamps his hand around my neck, squeezing as he leers into my face.

  “You are just too… damaged. Maybe I need fresh meat.”

  Now, I know I am defeated.

  “Stop,” I tell him, feeling utterly numb. “You can’t. Please don’t take anyone else. Don’t hurt any other girls, Benjamin.”

  “Daddy,” he corrects. “You need to call me Daddy.”

  I sigh deeply. “Daddy. Please don’t kidnap anyone. Just let this be between you and me. I hurt you in the past, so maybe I deserve whatever you want to do to me. I understand that. I’ll be cooperative.”

  “Really?” he says with interest. “You would do what I say—everything I say, and be a good little girl, as long as I don’t hurt anyone else?”

  “Yes,” I tell him. After all, I am a grown woman now. I can bear it a little easier, perhaps. I remember what it was like, when I was younger. It was too much. It was too much to take.

  It caused my mind to splinter into pieces. It stayed with me, hanging like a dark shadow over my life. I think I’m strong. Maybe I’m wrong. But I think that this sort of thing could destroy almost any other girl. It nearly destroyed me. I wanted to kill myself for years. If not for Cole, the Internet, and a lot of good books, it would have killed me.

  Sometimes, I feel like it has killed me. I’m dead inside.

  Benjamin is right. I’m already damaged beyond repair. I’m totally fucked up in the head. I’m a lost cause. I’ve been awful to everyone in my life, pushed them all away. Nobody gives a shit about me. Nobody’s looking for me. What more can he possibly do?

  “Then say the words,” he tells me. “Say the words and I will bring you a hot meal. I’ll let you go to the bathroom, instead of making you piss into my mouth, like last time.”

  Oh my god. I don’t even remember that happening.

  I try my best to remain stoic and expressionless. I nod, telling myself that this is what I need to do. I’ve experienced firsthand what kind of pain this man can inflict, and if I can save one child from growing up to be empty like me—it’s worth the humiliation. I will sacrifice my pride. Nodding again, I mentally prepare myself to speak the words.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Thank heavens!” he says, clapping his hands with excitement. “At last! My little girl has returned to me.”

  It feels somehow freeing to say it to him, to submit. I guess he’s won. He’s broken me, and I’m fully committed to participating in his little game.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves. My body is shaking. How long will I be his prisoner? Months? Years?

  A better question is how long have I already been his prisoner?

  Before this little tea party, I wasn’t awake for most of it. It could have been hours, or days. Weeks? It was mostly Snow. She had to suffer through all this. Until today.

  How could I live with myself, doing that to her? She’s not just part of my imagination. She’s a real person. I know that. I’ve felt her, I’ve held her. I’ve spoken to her, in the dark basement. And now, something has changed inside me.

  Maybe it was the electricity. Maybe it’s changing my brain chemistry, giving me more control. Making me stronger. Making me more aware.

  But I’m going to take care of her, the way she’s always taken care of me.

  “There’s one more thing I want you to do,” Benjamin says as he unties the rope around my neck, that holds me fast against the chair. “Just to prove that you’re really going to be a good girl from now on.”

  “Whatever you want,” I tell him, feeling empty.

  He lifts his shirt and begins to undo the belt buckle that holds up his pants. Only then do I realize he’s had a huge erection this whole time, just waiting to spring forth. I stare at it warily, afraid of what he’s going to do with it. But then I remember—he’s already done his worst.

  I remember the abortion I had to perform on myself. I inhale sharply.

  The memory causes me to falter.

  I shut my eyes tightly, drowning, wavering, losing grip—but I barely manage to hold on.

  I clench my fists aro
und the armrests of the chair, and I hold on.

  I won’t let her take over. Not today.

  This time, I’ll be the strong one.

  When Benjamin places his penis in my face, he reaches toward the table for a sugar cube, and places it on the head of his erection.

  “I want you to taste Daddy’s sugar,” he tells me.

  I visibly flinch, but I try to appear unaffected. I stare at the sugar cube warily. And then his offensive member. Calories. Hot meal. Bathroom.

  “Okay,” I say quietly, “But after this, along with that hot meal, can you bring me some coffee? Strong coffee?”

  That should wash the taste away.

  “Of course,” he says, stepping closer and pressing his erection between my lips. He grins down at me. “Anything for my little princess.”

  I shut my eyes and just try to focus on the coffee at the end of the tunnel.

  Maybe I can be my own superhero and break out of these restraints.

  If I can only get some coffee in me.

  Coffee is my fuel—the secret source of my power.

  It’s my anti-kryptonite.

  My mind drifts back cloudily to the anime I used to watch with Cole when we were younger. It was all about finding extra stores of hidden strength.

  Coffee is the key. It will unlock everything. It will affect me the way moonlight changes a saiyan, infusing them with great power and turning him into an unstoppable beast.

  I could really use a little magical moonlight right now.

  Chapter Eight

  Sophie Shields, 2016

  The coffee is good.

  You’d be surprised at how much a painful situation can be improved with the right substance. A familiar taste, the comforting smell, the positive associations. If Benjamin wanted me to become dependent on heroin so he could control me, he needs to revise his strategy.

  My heart belongs to the bean.

  Sitting and sipping the coffee blissfully in bed, I find myself thinking about Snow. I feel rather content after enjoying a hot meal (prepared by a private chef and served on a silver tray) and being untied so that I could use the bathroom.