by Dani René
I’m not sure how long I’ve been out, but there’s only a sliver of light coming in from the small hole in the wall that used to be my refuge. I’d look to the sky through the small space and pray for death. The cage is big enough for me, and perhaps one more person, but the height forces me to spend my time crouched in the damp. My skin prickles as the cold breeze filters in from the hole close to the ceiling and I can’t help shivering so hard my teeth chatter.
There aren’t any lights in this place, so as my eyes adjust to the dark, I notice another smaller cage only inches from where I am. “Hello?” I call out, my voice croaky and raspy. There’s no sound, no response, just my breathing.
I hear him before he enters the room, so when the rattling of the keys in the door alerts me that he’s about to open the door, I crouch down and act like I’m still asleep. I grit my teeth hoping the chattering doesn’t alert him that I’m awake and aware of him in the room.
“The little whore is still asleep,” he grunts as I hear the clang of metal. Fear skyrockets when I hear a soft whimper and then another loud bang. I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. He doesn’t stay for too long in the room because I hear his voice near the door only moments later. “You’re both going to play for me soon,” he threatens angrily then slams the door shut. Once again, the keys rattle and I’m unsure of who he was talking to, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out soon enough.
When I shift along the floor of the cage, a gasp comes from my left. I open my eyes to find a pair of eyes staring back at me. In the dimly lit area they look almost luminous, but when I kneel, crawling over to her, I notice they’re a strange green that seems to change as she moves her head, watching me.
“Who are you?” I ask, softly, knowing she’s probably scared and freaked out. I was too when I first arrived here. This time though, I realize I’m no longer afraid, I’m angry. I always thought I was the only one. I was stupid enough to think he’d learned his lesson when I left. But she’s proof that there’s nothing for this vile monster to learn.
What needs to happen is he needs to be killed. One way or another, I’ll find a way out of here and I’ll make him pay. She watches me for a moment longer before stepping closer to the bars of her cage.
“I’m Ellie.” She smiles. She’s incredibly pretty. Young. The thought hurts my heart that she’s in here when she should be out there living a normal life.
“Why are you here? How did he find you?” Her eyes brim with tears as she regards me and I’m afraid I’ve upset her more than I wanted to. She shakes her head, but watches me. “I was here a long time ago too. I escaped. We’ll get out of here. I promise.” My words feel foreign. Who am I to promise her anything. We’re in this together. If I can keep her strong, willing to fight, then we’ll get through it. Somehow.
“I…” she starts, but her voice breaks and the tears flow as she blinks. “I thought I was safe when he said he’d help me.” Fury rages through me when I realize he gave her the same sordid story he gave me. Just then, the rattle of keys renders my body rigid with fear and when the door swings open, I am face to face with my tormentor. The monster.
“Little whore.” He smirks, eyeing me ravenously.
He stalks into the room and straight for me. There’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped once more and he’s going to hurt me worse than I’ve ever been before. I know this because when I glance down he’s carrying chains. Thick metal chains that dangle and clink loudly. Echoes hit the walls and attack my ears with vengeance.
I can’t do this. Not again. I try to breathe but I can’t. It’s difficult. The suffocating attacks me viciously, gripping my throat and squeezing. Once the door to my cage is wrenched open, he reaches for me, gripping my arm painfully as he rips me from the safety of my prison.
“It’s time I taught you a lesson on why little girls never run away from me,” his tone thick with lust and filthy with sin. Nothing will stop this from happening. I’m too weak to fight, and he’s too agile and alert to make a mistake.
He pulls me toward a chair, shoving me into the seat. Then he goes to work. His hands move quickly, binding my ankles to either of the chair legs. My hands are bound behind me, which causes my breasts to jut out. My body is on display, open for him to use and abuse as he wishes.
“You know, it was so easy to find you. Imagine my luck when I found you had given yourself to Elijah Draydon, the man I was watching for some time. Mainly because I knew he was the man from the hospital who had been visiting you,” he tells me. Stalking around me, he continues. “You think it’s real love? A man like him doesn’t love, he fucks, and he’ll break you, just as I will do now.”
“You don’t know anything about—”
His hand slams into my stomach causing me to retch, the puke burns its way up my throat as it falls from my mouth. “You never were an obedient slut,” he hisses in my ear.
He then casts a glance behind him, toward the second cage. Ellie, the sweet girl is crying now. “You’ll watch this, because if you ever try to leave, this is what will happen to you.” He picks up a leather belt from the cabinet which houses torturous devices, and lifts it, bringing it down on my thighs. He rips sounds from me that are inhumane.
The leather burns, it stings. Cutting into the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs. Tears stream down my face in rivers of pain.
“You fucking little bitch, running away from me is something you’ll never do again. Do you hear me?” He grunts, it’s feral and vile. He sounds maniacal as he spits his words. Suddenly, cold liquid is splashed on my thighs. “Whore.” He utters with disgust. When I finally manage to open my eyes, I notice the red paint all over my body. It drips like rain from a rooftop.
My eyes glance over to Ellie, she’s sobbing uncontrollably and all I can hope is that Carrick is on his way. That somehow, he’s found out where I am because I’m no longer able to do anything. William stalks closer to me, he looks older than he did when I was here last. His hair is graying, and I know he’s not older than forty.
He reaches for me and I feel the prick of a needle before I see it. Electricity races through my veins at an alarming rate and when I glance at him again, I notice how my vision blurs. I can’t open my mouth, I feel lethargic and I wonder if he’s drugged me to pass out. But then he brings something warm toward me. It sends a shudder through me.
“Do you like that feeling, whore? The heroin will slowly eat away at your restraint and make you pliable,” he informs me. I open my mouth, but I’m not screaming anymore. There’s no longer fear, just acceptance. I’m going to die. At least before my end, I loved someone. I gave Elijah all I had and I spent those final days happy.
A knife is pulled from somewhere, and glints in the dim light, as I watch the tip of the blade trail a line over my chest. A crimson trickle appears in the wake of the blade as he marks me. I can’t tell from here what he’s carving into my flesh, all I can feel is this overwhelming urge to cry, to scream. But my mind is no longer mine.
The trickle of blood tickles as it drips from the flesh that’s torn. Just like me, I’m ripped apart. A toy that’s no longer good for anything. My breathing is shallow as he drains me.
“You see, little Ellie, this is what happens to whores. You’re not a whore, are you?” He sneers. My narrowed gaze is locked on him as he strolls over to the cage, unlocking it, and tugging the poor girl out. I’m afraid for her. I no longer care what he does to me. But she’s innocent. She shouldn’t be here.
He grips her breasts, tugging at the nipples, causing her to scream.
“Whore, do you hear that? She loves my touch, not like you. You’re a filthy broken toy. Elijah Draydon will never want you.” Once again, the words he pierces me with hurt worse than the wounds on my body.
He drags Ellie over to me, forcing her down on her knees. The drugs and the loss of blood, make me dizzy, but I try to focus on the girl. She gazes up at me with fear, trepidation and I wish that somehow, at least she will be saved.
“Take
this,” he tells her, shoving a knife in her hand. “Make her scream.” His order is clear. He’s wanting to torture me by using an innocent child.
“Fuck you,” I spit. I’m weak, but I will fight till the end. His backhand slams into my jaw, causing me to lurch and the chair to topple. The chains dig into my flesh.
“Is that what you want?” he hisses. Gripping my hair, he pulls me and the chair up and I hear the sound that’s haunted me for so long. A belt buckle, a zipper, and then my throat is full. I heave against the crown of his filthy cock that’s shoved so deep down my throat I feel it pulse in my esophagus.
Tears blur Ellie as she whimpers on the floor, watching me get violated. Rather me than her. He continues to hurt me, to fuck my face so hard, I feel the bile rise in my stomach and up my throat. I retch violently as the burn of my vomit hits the cuts on my chest.
I close my eyes and go to another place. I go to Eli. I see him, I feel him. I allow him to bathe me in his comfort. And that’s when everything goes black.
Elijah
We’re moving too slow. The plane is heading in to land and my body is alert, ready to murder, to maim, and to make sure that someone dies tonight. That someone in particular is a man I was supposed to be aiding. William Fredericks.
I’m still simmering quietly when Carrick glances up from his phone. His eyes have a way of confessing before he’s even opened his mouth.
“What?”
“The signal on her phone is still on, we just need to hope that we don’t lose it.” Shoving from the seat, I settle beside Carrick and watch as a red dot appears and pulses in the middle of fucking nowhere. “We’ll get her back,” he assures me for about the hundredth time today, but deep down, I’m more fearful of what has been done to her. I don’t think he’ll kill her, but he will break her. Or try to.
“We will. But in what state?” I ask the question that’s been weighing on my mind. Heavily. More so, it’s gripped my heart. Painfully.
He doesn’t answer me, because he can’t. There’s no way he can tell me with confidence that she’ll be okay. That all this will be swept under the rug. The wheels touch down and I’m out of my seat, at the door waiting for clearance to open it.
This monster has stolen from her before. Her innocence, her trust, and her sanity. This time, I’m scared he’ll steal her soul.
The doors slide open with a whoosh and I’m already down the steps and at the waiting car before Carrick has time to think. When he joins me, I’m in the bench seat of the town car. The driver glances back at us and nods. The GPS he has plugged in at the front of the car is beeping to the beat of my heart. It’s a whisper, but I hear it.
I hear her. I feel her. If she were dead, I’d know. My gaze is focused on the nothingness outside the window. It’s black. Just like my heart and mind. Dark thoughts float through me, images of what we’re about to discover taunt me and I can’t help the ache in my gut. As if I’ve been punched, stabbed, a blade shoved so deep inside it’s pierced my soul and every moment I’m away from her, I feel life drip from me.
Finally, as we round a bend, our driver, I don’t know his name, pulls up against a high black wall in the middle of darkness.
“We’re here. Let the team get in there and disarm everything. Then we’ll enter from the rear,” he says, his voice thick and filled with excitement at having to play soldier. His accent very much like Carrick’s is English, and I realize that there’s a lot more to Rick Anderson than meets the eye.
When we’re alone, I glance at Carrick who pulls a 9mm from a holster and hands another one to me, which he had hidden on his right side.
“You never know when you need one,” he shrugs, exiting the car before I can even mention it. Silence ensues as we wait. It’s deadly. My mind is raging. Nothing is going to help me now, only holding my girl will ease this tension and rage.
Before I have time to think, it all happens. Swiftly, the lights that we agreed would be the signal flash and Carrick and I are on our feet racing toward the gate as it slides open. The forest is dark, dank, but then as the black metal gates open, we’re met with the humongous fortress that is the Fredericks mansion.
I don’t think. My mind is blank. No, that’s a lie. It’s on one thing, and she’s inside. As soon as we reach the doors, we find it open, and the six men are inside with their guns drawn. I’ve never shot a gun, I’ve only ever been in a bar fight; this is something different altogether. There’s nothing that could prepare me for walking into a house that looks like the queen lives there.
It’s ornate, gilded, and I have the sudden urge to smash everything to pieces. I want to destroy anything and everything that belongs to this asshole.
“Basement. Basement.” One of the men hisses into his earpiece. We follow the black figures as they make their way into the bowels of the house.
It’s silent and fear grips me. She can’t be dead. She has to be alive. I can’t live without her. I can’t. These thoughts race through my mind as we head down the staircase to the cold basement, which looks like it should house corpses rather than a beautiful woman. And I hope and pray to a god I don’t believe in that I won’t find her corpse lying in that small room on the other side of the large metal door.
We’re about to break the door in when I hear it. A scream.
“Gia!” I call out not thinking. Carrick’s glare pins me and I know I fucked up. Another scream and I realize it’s not her. It’s not her voice. Something’s wrong. Who is that?
I don’t know how they get the door open, but with a loud resounding crash it moves and we’re inside in seconds. Gunshots sound and ring in my ears and I fall to the floor. Pain so profound shoots through me. My leg is oozing blood from a bullet, but that is not what hurts, it’s the woman on the floor that’s chained to a chair. I don’t know what’s happening around me, loud screaming, shouting, more gunshots, but all I see is her.
Time stops. My breathing halts. And my body freezes. She’s not moving. Blood pools around her like she’s bathing in it. I grip the floor, dragging myself toward her. Her chest doesn’t rise and fall. I reach for her neck, but there’s no pulse. There’s no breaths.
A cry is ripped from my soul. As if someone had reached into my body and tore my very life force from me and I’m lying beside her dying. Not again. I can’t lose another. I will never survive it.
“Get her into the fucking ambulance,” Carrick shouts above me. Men grab at my woman. Her body is lifeless as they unchain and lift her from the floor. Rick helps me to my feet and I stumble beside him as we make our way out toward the main section of the house.
“Where—”
“He’ll be taken care of until you’re ready,” Rick informs me, and I nod. I’ll be back for the fucker. He can be sure I’ll be coming for him. And the rest of his fucking family.
Once Carrick and I reach the car, I’m losing the feeling in my leg. But all I can think of is my girl.
“She’s dead,” I tell him but he shakes his head. “She had no pulse. No breathing. She’s fucking dead!” I’m shouting, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m angry. I’m broken. I can’t do this. And I realize, for the first time in a long time. In years. I’m crying. I’m fucking bawling my eyes out and I don’t care who sees me.
Women aren’t the only ones to hurt. To shatter. And I realize it in that moment. I’ve just lost the love of my life. Again.
Giana
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Hiss. Whoosh. Hiss. Whoosh.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Hiss. Whoosh. Hiss. Whoosh.
The sounds calm me, but nothing stops the pain. My skin feels like it’s on fire. I can’t open my eyes and I’m not sure if it’s from the medication they’ve put me on, or if it’s from my injuries. Although, I don’t know what I look like. I have no idea what my injuries are.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Hiss. Whoosh. Hiss. Whoosh.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Hiss. Whoosh. Hiss. Whoosh.
“Gia,” his vo
ice comes through the chorus of machines. I don’t move. If I do, he’ll know I’m awake. Then what? He’ll pity me. He’ll tell me he’s sorry and loves me. But why? Because he feels guilty. That’s why. No man would stay with me now. And I’m okay with that. I don’t want a man near me. I never want to feel the touch of anyone. The thought alone causes me to cringe.
“Mr. Draydon, I just need to administer the medication,” the nurse says quietly. “She’ll wake up soon. You don’t have to stay all the time.” Her voice has a smile in it. Almost as if she’s trying to placate him. To keep him calm from the storm I feel emanating from him.
“I’m not leaving her.” And there it is. Guilt. It’s so thick in his tone that I want to scream at him. Tell him it’s not his fault. It’s mine. Silence again. I hear the whoosh of the machines and I wonder if it’s drugs that will numb me. I want to feel nothing. I want to die.
Would they give me an overdose if I begged?
“I’ll be back to check her vitals again in an hour,” the nurse informs him. Silence settles, and I wonder if he’s actually going to leave, but he doesn’t. I feel his hand on me, I want to pull away, but I can’t move. I’m bound. I’m burning. I hurt.
* * *
“You’re a fucking little slut for running away from me. I was the one who took you in when your parents didn’t want you.” He hisses in my face. Dark eyes pierce me. They slice into my soul more than I ever believed he could. My flesh burns. The hot wax, mixed with the blood that drips from me is too much.
I beg. I cry. But it’s no use.
He pushes me down, my body flat on the cold concrete. And then he’s above me. He shoves his cock, hard and erect, into my body. I’m dry. It burns like acid. He grunts as he pulls out and shoves back inside me. Again, and again.
His hands on my throat squeeze hard, choking me as he violates me. “That’s it, whore. Take me. You love it. Don’t you? That’s what you and he did. He fucked you rough. I’ve known you for too long. I know you love being used like a fuck toy.”
