by Alice Everly
Brian pulled her up and into his arms, rocking. She curled into his chest with a sob and a sigh. He adjusted her dress to cover her naked backside as he slightly rocked her gently.
For the first time since he’d arrived at Mike’s house he felt that this was just right, what he was doing, what he planned to do, was exactly what he was supposed to do. There was no other way.
“I can’t imagine buying another,” Brian said firmly, intent on doing whatever he needed to do to leave with the girl, “I will pay double for Lydia. I won’t take another.”
If Mike was anything, he was greedy and clearly didn’t want to miss out on a sale, “I guess I could train another. After all, training is my favorite part.” He said slowly.
“I won’t have another after meeting Lydia here.” Brian said firmly.
“You must know that you’re not paying for the woman,” Mike said deliberately, “I don’t deal in human trafficking.”
Well, fuck. Brian watched his entire case explode before him, yet the warm body pressed so snuggly against him, her breath just starting to even out, had him firming his resolve. He gently rubbed her back in slow easy motions, his eyes never leaving Mike’s.
“I understand,” he agreed reluctantly.
“You’re only paying for her professional training,” Mike stated, “the long months, well with Lydia the long years that it took to train her are very valuable.”
Brian nodded, a sick taste in his mouth, “I can wire transfer the money tonight,” Brian tightened his hold on Lydia, “I want her home with me tonight.”
“You can’t leave with her until I have the money,” Mike said, “I wasn’t prepared to part with her. I may want an additional night with her.”
“I’ll transfer the money right now,” Brian pulled out his phone and with a few taps he wire transferred the money to Mike’s account. No way in hell was he leaving the girl to Mike now that he’d found her.
Mike confirmed the money was received before he agreed to let Brian leave with her. Brian could tell Mike was still reluctant to let Lydia go.
“Now, you be a good girl for Papa,” Mike pulled Lydia from Brian’s hold. He stood her up unsteadily on her feet, “I’ve trained you for this,” he stated, squeezing her arm painfully as she winced, “I’ll bring you back for more training if you act in any way like you did when you first arrived here,” he said, “Do you understand?” the words were viciously seethed between his teeth.
“Yes, Papa,” Lydia said meekly, making Brian want to wring the guy’s neck for the way he was treating her. Patience he said to himself, Patience.
“Let’s go get your things,” Mike said, pulling the girl from the room.
“I’ll be good Papa,” Lydia promised, turning Brian’s stomach at the declaration as if she were fearful of Mike’s promises. She tried to keep up with the man’s large strides, but her little legs couldn’t work so fast and she was dragged by her arm from the room.
Brian paced the floor. They were gone too long, what the hell was he doing to her? Although it was less than five minutes, Brian let out a sigh of relief when they re-entered and Lydia seemed to be fine, albeit scared.
Lydia clutched a small suitcase and what looked like the fear of God in her eyes. It was all he could do to get her out of the house and safely in his car as quickly as possible.
Brian started the car up and quickly left the large stone house behind. The poor girl sat shaking in the passenger seat.
What hells had the girl endured with that man, he thought, surely she couldn’t have wanted to be with Mike Christopher. He couldn’t imagine the young woman actually wanting to be treated so brutally.
Brian drove down the winding drive, wishing the girl would talk about Mike, give him something else to go on, surely she couldn’t have loved the man, right?
Lydia curled up on the passenger seat, her eyes drifting closed. At least she was at peace now away from that house, he thought, relaxing himself as well the further they got from Mike’s house.
But Lydia hadn’t slipped into a peaceful sleep, no the nightmares began the instant her eyes were closed, the memory of what she’d endured over the years began to bombard her in vicious color and shocking reality as stories ran through her mind.
Chapter Two
One Week Earlier
Lydia knew he was coming for her. She’d been trapped in this stone house for enough time to know the tread of his footsteps as he ascended the stairs.
The stale thick air was suffocating, the small room dusty and grimy. The sticky heat invading the old home was like a plague, sending dust particles swimming through the sun streaked air to infect all it touched.
Wide-eyed, she looked up as the heavy footsteps sounded outside the door and her breathe hitched in her chest. Her dark hair lay on either side of her face, awkwardly twisted into two thick braids. That’s the way he wanted it, he always insisted she wear pigtails.
One trembling palm brushed franticly at the tears streaking down her too-pale face, smearing dust and grime across her porcelain cheeks as her dark eyelashes lay thick and wet over clear blue eyes that seemed constantly wide with fear. She looked to the door, knowing it would open any moment.
Her heart pounded violently in her chest, but she remained calm on the surface. She set the chair to rocking, the shadows of dark bruises marking her small frail frame were visible even as she was fully dressed, telling a twisted story of the nightmare she’d had with the monster.
The door creaked as it was jerked open, his large frame filling the doorway.
“Do you remember why you were put in your room, Lydia?” His deep voice echoing in the dark dusty room, it mocked her, trying to draw her into saying or doing something wrong.
It was a familiar riddle, she’d heard plenty of times, but she never seemed to know the answer. There really was no way to know the answer, especially when he played by his own rules. The question was merely conversation because no matter her answer he would have his way and she would inevitably suffer the consequences. She always did.
In the beginning she’d been so naïve, franticly trying to grasp the correct answer, but what he wanted to hear always eluded her. She began to wonder if there was even any right answer for him.
She didn’t want to answer him, it was the only control she still had of her own person. The only thing she had left. She looked around the room desperately, knowing he was growing angry by her silence, but she needed this one thing, needed to remember that she was a grown adult trapped in a nightmare.
She wasn’t the little girl he so desperately tried to make her into. The sparse furnishings of the room were pitiful and solitary, especially compared to the room she was meant to be in, the room that she was supposed to be in at her real home. The visions that were quickly slipping from her memory of her real home, the one she would never see again.
Lydia didn’t reply to his cryptic question. She remained silent, rocking in her chair, the creaking of the wooden floor became somewhat soothing to her nerves as the rocking chair moved rhythmically back and forth, back and forth, slowly reminding her of another time and place in her life. For but an instant it was the only sound in the room. Peace. For that brief moment it was soothing her. For just that moment she could pretend that she was somewhere else, anywhere else.
Lydia knew silence was a mistake, she’d certainly been through this enough times to know, but she also knew her words wouldn’t change what he intended to do. She was fully aware that it didn’t matter what she said, she was just an actor in a sick play that he alone created. She’d become the lead actress, she’d taken on the starring role, the leading part in the play. It was something she’d long yearned for in her other life.
She’d craved that attention. Oh how she’d dreamed of fame, but now, in this room, she knew the leading part in this play would bring nothing but a nightmare. Yet, she would play her part, embrace her role because she had no other choice. Oh but she would give anything just to be back home.
“You know damn well that ignoring me will only bring you pain, darling,” His sugary sweet voice slithered across her skin. Such a tragedy of emotions it was, his voice. Twisting into such painful sweetness with practiced ease, but she was also painfully aware of the other side of him. She had become well experienced with the horrible evil that lived underneath those words. She’d tasted the bitter lash of it far too many times to count.
The reminder of him, of what he was capable of, the reminder of his vicious ways, sent a sharp chill racing through her veins, numbing her to reality. She quavered in her chair, her grasp on the wooden arms tightening, her frail and broken nails digging into the wood as it cracked under her hold, shooting wood splinters under each nail. She didn’t even flinch, didn’t even acknowledge the pain for this was nothing compared to what she was certain to withstand in short order.
His footsteps approached. The heavy tread distinct and sickening against the hardwood floor. She’d heard it too many times, had woke sweating from nightmares of the sound of his tread.
Her body instinctively flinched as he neared her chair. She knew time was running out and there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Lydia had no means of escape, so she resumed her incessant rocking. Slowly, back and forth, back and forth, like she was lost in a trance.
Lydia didn’t even acknowledge his presence as he stepped right up to the chair, right in her line of vision. She knew that if she was good and said all the right things, the outcome would not change. It never did. He knew exactly what he wanted from her and he would absolutely make that happen no matter how much she begged or pleaded. She’d played this game far too many times with him and she’d never won.
The reality of it all had become too much for her to bear, so she rocked back and forth as she stared out the window, trying to remember the better times in her life. The times before him. A time before she was subjected to this madness, but those memories were quickly slipping away and her mind kept returning to him, to what he would do to her. To the pain.
“Answer me, you insolent bitch!” he roared, and although she flinched once again, she didn’t turn around.
She couldn’t summon the courage to face him and so she continued to rock slowly back and forth with the worn rag doll in her lap. She grasped that doll in one hand, clutching it to her chest like a lifeline. She knew she wouldn’t see the doll for some time once he’d taken her from this room. It would lay discarded and lonely until she’d healed enough to return.
She tried to ignore him, tried to pretend that he wasn’t there, that she wasn’t in this awful house, wasn’t locked in this cold room. Maybe she was acting out, maybe she was being purposefully difficult, or maybe she just hoped beyond hope that maybe just this once he would turn away and leave her without a word. Or maybe she just knew that no matter what, the outcome would be the same. It didn’t matter how much she begged or how good she really was. No, she could be a perfect angel and he would still create faults and flaws to ensure she didn’t go unpunished. So, she held onto the little bit of dignity she still had left as long as she could and she prayed that he would spare her the pain and humiliation just this one time.
Her prayers were not answered, of course. His vicious hand grabbed her arm and she stood without will, her body hauled from the rocking chair with one sharp yank of his hand as he nearly pulled her shoulder from the socket.
Clutching the doll tighter to her, she gritted her teeth against the biting pain of his fingers as they dug sharply into the pale skin of her upper arm. Clutching tightly to the doll, the only thing bringing her comfort in this wretched place. She was hauled out of her chair, dangling in mid-air briefly before her feet touched the ground again. The doll, it was her friend, her only lifeline, the only comfort she had, and he yanked it from her grasp, throwing it to the ground forcefully.
“You’re too old for dolls,” he snarled.
She wondered why he’d given the doll to her in the first place if he thought that, but she was smart enough not to speak those words aloud. Never question him, that was a lesson well learned long ago.
Lydia looked back to the ragdoll, now abandoned and lying on the floor, the one eyed face seemed to be crying for her, calling out to her. She reached out to it, but was sharply pulled away.
She was fully aware that she wasn’t the first girl to love that doll, she wasn’t the only one who’d loved and rocked that sad little doll, but it had become her friend still the same. Her heart ached for the other girls who’d loved that doll, the ones who’d gone away. She also knew she wouldn’t be the last girl to hold it, not by a long shot.
Lydia’s feet barely brushed the cold floor as he pulled her down the dark dusty hall. It was the same trip she’d made hundreds of times, but that didn’t make it any easier. That didn’t ease her nerves because no matter what he intended, she’d been down that hall too many times to believe that she would come back unscathed.
Fear twisted in her chest and tears were already beginning to fall. He was so very angry this time, she could feel it coming off him in waves. That didn’t bode well for her at all.
It was time for her to be punished, that’s what he’d declared. He’d thrown down the gauntlet and she had no choice but to pick it up, that’s what this whole ritual was about. There was no turning back, no matter how hard she fought, and she’d certainly fought hard and fierce in the beginning. That seemed so long ago, but she still remembered what happened when she fought back.
No, she wouldn’t fight. She didn’t have it in her any longer. His intentions had already been set in his own mind, and he wouldn’t veer from his sole purpose of making sure she was thoroughly and severely punished. She knew all this, she was fully aware of the impending pain and punishment as they approached the dreaded door at the end of the hallway. Even knowing the chase would begin the following morning, she prayed for a quick reprieve. There was only so much a woman could take and Lydia was reaching her breaking point.
She wasn’t the first woman to travel this dark hallway. She certainly wasn’t the first to hold his attentions and garner his punishments. No, she knew there’d been more.
She’d seen the last woman he’d dragged down this hall when she’d first arrived to his home. That woman was burned into her memory. She’d seen her bleeding and bruised and she’d known at that moment that there would be no escape from his clutches. More so, she knew that once he’d grown tired of their game he would get rid of Lydia just as easily as he had that other woman. He would discard her without thought and would find another woman to play with, just as he had in her. It was what he did, it was how he survived. She only hoped she could survive his twisted game long enough to gain her freedom.
Chapter Three
She calls him Papa, but she knows he’s not her father, or any relation of hers at all for that matter. There are pictures in her head of her true father and mother, pictures of places that she’s lost through time. There are stories in her head of a time before this, before him. She wants to believe they’re true, but as each day passes and she sinks further into his grasp, she begins to question her own reality. She wonders if her memories are just dreams that she’s made up in her own mind, the watery pictures wavering and disappearing just as quickly as they appear. Or maybe they’re just visions that come to her in fits and nightmares.
Sometimes she wonders if these memories are only stories from a storybook that she’s just forgotten from long ago, but they’re so very vivid and invoke such strong emotions in her that she can only assume they’re real, she can only believe that she’s lived them once upon a time. So she clings to the
m as those memories are the only things that keep her going some days.
There are days where she remembers everything, fully aware of her situation, but then other days come where she completely forgets that she ever existed outside this house. There are days when she can’t remember a time before him. Those are the scary days, the days where she forgets and fully believes that this is her only existence. It’s those days that paralyze her, because if this was the only life she ever had, the only life she would ever know, then that means she never existed before Papa and all her memories are delusions.
Such thoughts have nearly driven her to madness. Is it even possible to make such complex stories up in her head? Maybe she really is that naughty girl that Papa insists she is? She often wonders if she lost her mind a long time ago, and Papa has cared for her and her needs because he’s the only one that will take care of someone with such extreme delusions.
Papa tells her that when she grows up she’ll have a husband who will expect her to be obedient, that’s why he does what he does, he says. Papa tells her it’s his job to teach her to be a good girl, but she sometimes has a hard time knowing what that means because she remembers a time when she was already all grown up and a very good girl.
Lydia will scream this inside her head, but she knows she cannot tell Papa. That would make Papa angry, he has been so very upset with her when she reminds him that she’s really an adult woman who has another home, when she reminds him that she’s supposed to be living another life. Papa will yell and make her forget, and the way he makes her forget is by punishing her until all she can remember is him and all she feels is the pain he inflicts on her.
So, Lydia doesn’t tell him about her past life, she doesn’t tell him that she sometimes remembers. She pretends to be what he expects her to be. She calls him Papa because he likes that and she’s too afraid of his punishments to do anything else, because Papa always punishes her harshly.
