Corrupt Desires

by Jennifer Bene

“Back off, I’ll do it.” Someone, maybe the driver, spoke up, and she whimpered. Biting down on her lip to fight the urge to beg when she knew it was useless. A rough hand scrubbed over the crook of her elbow, and she flinched, turning away as a needle was inserted. The sensation made her stomach roil, but an instant later the sedative was creeping through her bloodstream. Weighting her limbs, making it harder to focus on the sounds around her.

  “How far out is he?”

  “Ten minutes,” someone answered, and then she felt a hand on her thigh, sliding upwards.

  “Good, I’m tired of waiting.” Dulled panic tried to surge through her, but it was like a sputtering firework. A quick flicker of sparks, and then nothing. A dud. Terror was a low thrum, so quiet in the white noise in her head as she was sucked back under. Unable to move, afraid to scream, it seemed like it worked faster this time. The darkness closing in through the haze of her vision until everything winked out.

  19

  Wrong.

  Everything inside her clanged, shook, rattled as she climbed towards consciousness. There was a weight above her, someone with their hand around her throat making it hard to breathe, someone inside her.

  A croaked scream, and the hand tightened, a vile voice close to her face. “Fucking whore, you like downtowner cock, don’t you?”

  Phee felt tears burning hot tracks across her temples as the man forced himself deep again, grateful that for the moment it was all still blunted by the lingering sedative. Aware of the pressure, the weight of him, but nothing else.

  “You’re just fog trash,” he growled, slamming himself against her as his other hand dug into her welted thigh. The pain spiking through the haze until she gurgled a sob as he held her wide so he could continue. “That’s right, stay awake. I want you to feel this.”

  Trying to shake her head, she arched back, attempting to break his hold so she could scream, but he clamped down tighter. Air cut off, flashes of color bursting behind her eyelids, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to fight this time. Passing out would be better, so much better…

  “What the fuck, Bran— shit, you can’t!” Someone else was in the room, but she couldn’t even make a noise as the man on top of her continued thrusting, her blunted nerve-endings waking up despite the lack of oxygen.

  “Fuck off, you can have your turn in a minute.” A low groan, and she hated her body for suddenly clenching him. Instinctive, born of fear, but a rushed grunt warned her just before he slid his hand up to the crook behind her knee and came. The only relief in the haze was that she was almost sure he had a condom on.

  The next relief was bittersweet, as his hand lifted from her neck and she choked in air, gasping through a bruised throat, but the influx of oxygen drew her closer to consciousness. No, no, no.

  The man above her pulled out, shoving her face to the side to hold her there as he hissed against her ear, “You deserve this, bitch. Let’s see if he wants you back when we’re done with you.”

  It was impossible to stifle the sob as he climbed off the bed, twisting to bring her legs together, but everything was still fuzzy. Although the ache between her thighs was bright enough to make it through the fog in her head. Crying, she wished for them to drug her again.

  “Man, I… I don’t know.”

  “Just grab a rubber and take your turn, when else are you going to get your revenge?”

  “Don’t, please,” she whispered, yelping when the angry one grabbed her chin and forced her into silence.

  “Shut the fuck up, whore. You’ll be lucky if we don’t kill you.”

  A weak whimper was all she managed when he let her go again. Phee wasn’t even sure how long she’d been in this place, but she knew Easton should have been close. He should have found her by now. They had been watching her. He had promised.

  It must have been the alley. They couldn’t get to the other side to where the van was fast enough.

  Maybe the COF people had known she was being watched.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Another weight on the bed, a knee between her thighs and she sobbed. Pulling at the tape around her wrists, now tethered to a metal bar above her head. Then she remembered one of her legs was free, and she kicked. A grunt of pain, and then she aimed again and felt her heel impact something hard. There was a shout, and then someone’s hand landed around her throat at the same time someone else caught her ankle.

  “Bitch!” someone cursed, their fingers digging into the skin of her calf as they forced her knee towards her chest.

  “Told you,” the man at her head spoke, his hand just tight enough around her throat to turn all her curses to gurgles. “She’s just a cunt, show her who’s boss.”

  “Yeah.” A rattle of a belt, and she tried to scream for help, knowing no one was coming. If anyone was here that would help her, they’d stop this. They’d stop all of this.

  Numb rage filled every inch of her, curled on her side as much as she could manage, and she couldn’t decide who she hated more. The men who had taken her, assaulted her, or herself for being such a fucking idiot in the first place.

  Bryant had tried to protect her, Easton had tried to talk her out of it, but she’d wanted to make a difference. Wanted to be a warrior, and… this was all she was.

  Bitter tears soaked the thick cloth over her face, and she hurt inside and out. No one had hit her, but they hadn’t needed to. They’d done so much worse, and she’d served herself up on a platter, as bait, and none of it fucking mattered. All she’d done is screw everything up, and now they’d get what they wanted.

  Because Bryant would do anything to get her back.

  Parks wouldn’t be able to tell him no, and who knew how many hundreds would suffer in the fog because of it. Because of her.

  The sound of someone moving in the room made her flinch, turning away as much as she could now that her other leg was attached to the rail at the bottom of the bed.

  “Don’t talk.” A quiet voice appeared to her left and she twitched, but then something was being laid over her cold thighs. Covering her.

  Maybe a big shirt, or a jacket?

  “I need you to listen to me. They can’t reach Holbrook, and they’re starting to get really angry. It’s—” he cursed under his breath. “If they can’t get to him soon they’re going to… hurt you again, record it and broadcast it to lure him out.”

  “It won’t work,” she whispered, but he grabbed her shoulder and shook her.

  “I said don’t fucking talk.” The man sighed, he sounded like the nicer one. The one that had first knocked the guy off of her in the van, and then let her breathe. “I thought you two were all head over heels for each other. That’s how the tabloids pitched it anyway, but he’s not responding…”

  “You’re right,” she forced the words through her aching throat. Letting all of her futile rage make the words sound true. “He doesn’t care that you took me, so you should just let me—” Phee was cut off when he tightened his grip painfully and tugged her towards him.

  “I am trying to help you, so don’t feed me bullshit that he doesn’t care about you. You have one chance to tell me where we can find your fiancé so we can start negotiations. If not then they’re going to do worse just to make a point.” His voice was quiet, but deadly serious, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. She had no idea where Bryant would be. She had no idea why he wasn’t answering the phone.

  “I can’t help you. I don’t even know why you assholes are doing this.”

  A low, frustrated sound escaped the man as his fingers dug furrows into the tender place above her collar bone. “Holbrook helped to lead the resistance, he betrayed the COF, and it meant that a lot of people died. A lot of innocent people.” He sounded serious, but Phee had to choke back a laugh.

  Innocent?

  “Are you kidding? There were no innocent people in the COF.” The words barely left her lips when she heard a shout and then the sound of men struggling, followed soon by others entering the room.r />
  “SHE WAS INNOCENT YOU STUPID BITCH! You think you’re so high and mighty? I’ll fucking kill you!” Pure rage from the man that had raped her first, and she simply curled up, trying to block his shouts from her ears as the tears came back with a fresh wave of fear.

  “Back off! She was about to tell me where Bryant Holbrook is—”

  “I don’t give a fuck where that bastard is! She was my WIFE! This cunt deserves to suffer. Why should we give her back to that asshole at all? We should fucking kill her!”

  “We cannot kill her, man, back off. Step outside, breathe.” Someone was trying to calm him, but he clearly wasn’t willing to listen.

  “She was at the damn Justice Building the night you sons of bitches blew it up! She didn’t even DO anything, she was a secretary! She filed papers, and you KILLED HER!”

  “EVERYONE OUT!” A voice boomed, and after a moment she heard everyone leave, low curses and shouts as the argument moved far away.

  Trembling, Phee felt her chest tighten around another sob. Clenching her teeth to muffle the sound, it only made everything hurt worse.

  Time passed in fits and spurts, random sounds from outside whatever room they had her in made her flinch, but then there would be nothing.

  No more pain, no more violations, and no hope.

  Where was Bryant? Where was Easton? Where was the fucking NDF?

  Eventually, a hum of voices growing closer made her tense, grateful for whatever had been laid over her hips to hide her from them as individual voices became clear.

  “He deserves to lose her just like I lost Carrie! They fucking killed her!” the angry one shouted.

  “That is not the plan and you know it. Nothing comes out of this if we kill her. You’ll push him over the edge and we’ll have nothing to bargain with.” A calm voice was trying to reason with him, and for some reason that voice sounded suddenly familiar. She knew his voice. She knew him.

  Who is he? Who is he? Who is he?

  Think, Phee, THINK!

  Then they were in the room with her, and someone drew close. “I’ve got water for you, don’t fight it.” A hand under her head lifted her enough to pour water in, and she choked on the first sip, spilling it onto the bed, before the bottle returned and she managed a few swallows. “There, that’s better, right?” Whoever it was stroked her hair back from her face, and she flinched.

  “Stop touching me.” Her voice was raw, her throat aching and she coughed to clear it.

  “See? The cunt isn’t even grateful!”

  Growling, she raised her voice a little, turning towards the angry one’s mumblings. “Look, I’m sorry you lost your wife, but Bryant and I weren’t even involved in any of the bombings, and you’re a fucking monster anyway! A rapist! She’s better off dead than with you!”

  “Fuck you! You were both part of the uprising!” he shouted at her from farther away and she imagined someone was keeping him from coming at her again.

  Someone cut the tape tethering her wrists to the top rail, but they were still stuck together as an arm moved under her to lift her upright. Her head swam the second she went vertical and she had to lean forward to quell the nausea. The helpful guy was supporting her shoulder and if she could have sat up on her own she would have jerked away. Instead, she let him help her stay upright as she hissed blindly at the bastards in the room. “You think what you’ve done to me is justified? You’re exactly what the COF always was. Sick fucks who do whatever they want for their own reasons. Yes, we were part of the uprising, but we weren’t even downtown, so blaming Bryant for that woman’s death is stupid. Blaming Bryant, or me, for any of it is just a fucking excuse to continue being the same monsters you’ve always been.”

  “Shh,” the man next to her tried to shush her, but she jerked her shoulder away from his grip as she finally felt steady.

  “There were hundreds in the resistance, why the fuck are you focusing on us? On Bryant?”

  “Because he’s a traitor! He helped lead those bastards that killed everyone, and now he’s representing the fucking NDF! Spreading lies—”

  “They’re not lies,” she interrupted whoever was speaking, and there was an angry shout. Phee winced, preparing for more pain, but nothing happened.

  “They ARE lies! Just an excuse to justify you murdering members of the COF in cold blood!” He was so angry she could hear the spit in his voice, but she just started laughing. It was a reaction born of an overload of fear and the overall insanity of her situation. She was remembering Charles Holbrook’s cold smile, his calm demeanor as he hurt her, told her about her mother, and made her bleed.

  Then she remembered pulling the trigger, over and over and over, and for the first time she wished she had a gun in her hand again.

  Why exactly had she refused to let Bryant teach her how to shoot?

  “I’m going to kill this bitch!” The angry man shouted and there was a crash as something was either thrown or kicked.

  “You are not going to kill her. Go sit in the other room, she’s just trying to drive you crazy.” The calm man was speaking again and she heard the heavy footfalls as the other stomped away from her. “Did she tell you how to contact him?”

  “Not yet, dammit. If you can keep that asshole away from her for ten minutes that might help a bit.” Just as he finished speaking there was a new clatter of sound. A metallic banging, and she heard several male voices and the sound of footsteps leading away from her.

  “Who the fuck is it?” The familiar voice called, still in the room with her, and then the sound of a cocking gun filled her ears. She knew that sound from every time Bryant unloaded, cleaned, and reloaded the various guns he had hidden around the apartment.

  “They got through to him! They got through.” A man approached, shouting, out of breath and panting as he got close enough that she knew he was in the room. “They got through to him, but then they had to run because the police or those psycho NDF security forces were getting close.”

  “Okay, so is he going to stop Proposition 61?”

  “He says he wants proof of life, he wants to speak to her.” More gasping for air. “He, uh, he won’t do anything without speaking with her.”

  “Fine. I planned on having her negotiate anyway, last thing I need is them running voice recognition software on us. I don’t completely trust the voice modifier the others used.” The calm man was in control again, confident, and she strained to remember where she’d heard his voice before. He sounded so familiar, if she could just focus a little more… “Get her up, we’ll take her in the van somewhere so she can make the call while we’re moving. It’ll be harder for them to trace anything.”

  The one next to her cut her feet free and she swayed as he turned her on the bed.

  “Whoa, is she — uh — did something happen?” the newest asshole asked.

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “We can dress her in the van so they—”

  “No. When we drop her off it will make sure he takes us seriously in the future.” The man paused and then raised his voice, shouting, “Get ready to move!”

  A moment later she heard the angry one approaching. “He agree to cancel it?”

  “Not yet. He wants to speak with her first, so we’re leaving in the van, but if you touch her one more time I’ll shoot you myself — understand?”

  “Tell her to keep her mouth shut then.”

  “Why don’t you all fuck off?” Phee was nauseous from standing, and she could feel the rage emanating from him. The grip on her arm tightened as a warning, but it was hard to care about pissing them off when they’d already done so much, and she knew they needed her to speak.

  “Ophelia, if you don’t behave I’ll just hand you over to them so that you can be screaming when you make the call. Just to make sure your fiancé really listens to us the next time we need him to do something.” A hand grabbed her face and she tried to flinch away but found herself caught. “You’re going to say exactly what I want you to say, aren’t you?�
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  “Probably not,” she mumbled, and then he released her face only to land a hard punch in her stomach that sent all the air out of her in a cough. If the other one hadn’t been holding her upright she would have crumpled to the floor.

  “Let’s try that again. Ophelia, are you going to behave and do as you’re told?” He paused and when she only gritted her teeth, he wrenched her head up by her hair. Her neck sent agonizing shots of pain through her and she cried out. “Ophelia?”

  “Yes! Fine, yes, I’ll talk to Bryant!” She sagged when he let her go, trying to ignore the tears that filled her eyes and dampened the cloth over them.

  “Good. Alright, let’s go. You — carry her to the van.”

  20

  Phee was hoisted up into someone’s arms but she didn’t even argue. Her body hurt and she wasn’t interested in blindly stumbling her way to the van anyway. In minutes they were piled into it and she was tucked against one of the front seats, her knees pulled to her chest, while she tried to quell the nausea that each turn of the vehicle brought on.

  They had conversations about the best place to make the call from, and time passed as they drove there, the whole vehicle eventually sliding into silence broken only by the sounds of evening traffic.

  “I think we’re being followed.” It was the driver speaking.

  “What?” The calm man suddenly wasn’t so calm anymore, and he was right next to her. “Lose them, now! Someone hand me a burner, we’re making the call.”

  “But we’re not in—”

  “I don’t care,” the man hissed, and Phee heard the beeping of a phone. Then it was pressed into her hands, and the man’s lips brushed her ear. “When he answers you will say exactly what I tell you to, it’s on speaker so there won’t be any secret messages. Do you understand?”

  His fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist and squeezed. “Yeah, I get it. I’ll tell him what you say.”

  “Good girl.” He pressed the cell phone in her hand and she flinched at the phrase, then it was ringing through the shitty little speaker on the phone.