Relying on my senses, I listen to the movements around the room. The clinking sound of the straps that hold me down ring through the silence.
“Fucking clean her up. She’s no good to me like this.”
I recognize that voice. Alvrez.
“Food and water, Sir?” the voice closest to my body asks and I recognize that one too. Harlan.
“Just a little. Not enough to give her full strength, but enough so that I can actually do something with her.”
“Yes, Sir,” he replies quickly, continuing to work loose the straps. I feel my body lifted from the bed and I’m moving. The next thing I know I’m being placed into water that is neither warm nor cold. My lip quivers and dizziness swims in my head.
“Clean yourself,” he growls, a cloth hitting my chest.
“I… I… I… can’t open my eyes. It hurts so bad,” I croak. The lights go off and I attempt to open them. I manage to open them ever so slightly. A small amount of light filters into the bathroom from the main room. I can’t quite see right, but I recognize what little I can see. I’m in the bathroom adjoining the room where he’s had me holed up before.
“Better?” he asks with a tone of sarcasm.
“Yes,” I reply, my throat burns it is so dry.
“Here, drink this.” I keep my head down, taking the glass he holds out right in front of me. My hand trembles and I can barely hold it still. “Small sips. Don’t gulp it. You’ll make yourself sick.” I let my cracked lips meet the rim of the glass, sipping small amounts of the water. He removes the glass, and I whimper a little as my body craves more.
“Get cleaned up first,” he orders, pointing to the cloth still resting on my chest. I slowly lift my arm, trying to grasp it. It’s like every little movement feels like I’m lifting weights. I have no strength at all in any of my limbs. “Do it,” he roars, startling me, my body shakes in response. I will my hands to move and grab the damn cloth.
“I’m trying,” I sob, my voice giving out. I finally manage to grab the cloth and grip it loosely as I start to wash my soiled body.
“You are disgusting,” he spits at me and I tilt my head just enough to look at him. His nostrils flare and his lip curls at the edges as he looks at me like I’m some sort of stray, flea-ridden cat that he despises. “I don’t know why he is bothering with you. I would have left you to suffer and die if it was up to me.”
His words flow off me like water from a duck’s back. I can’t get angry, because I don’t have the strength. I can’t have my revenge because I’m too weak.
I need to be strong again.
I will be strong again.
I got out of that room and I have to do everything to make sure I never go back in there. I don’t think I will ever come out alive if I do. I have to hold on, taking one day at a time. Self-preservation is everything right now.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, dropping my head, not wanting to meet his eyes again. I summon every bit of strength that my pathetic body has left to scrub myself.
“Hurry up,” he growls, shoving his hand in his pants. “I can’t take this smell much longer.” His hand flies to his mouth, covering it as he turns away.
“I’m trying. Please, I’m so weak but I’m doing the best I can.” I breathe deeply, desperate to get my breath. Even talking seems to take more energy than I have right now.
“Fuck this,” he mutters, storming back toward me, causing me to cower in the bath of water, my knees lifting, I huddle them as I try to get away from him. He reaches above me, turning on the shower. I cry out, the cold water almost too much to take. He reaches for the bottles lining the side of the bathtub, grabbing one and squirting the contents all over me. “That should work,” he heaves, throwing the bottle at me as he retreats. I sit there, freezing cold water showering my naked body, rubbing my washcloth over and over, desperate to get rid of the smell. I work it between my legs and under my ass. His eyes burn into me and I know he’s getting off on seeing me clean myself. He reaches down, grabbing the lump where his erection shows, glowering at me as he does it. So, this is the real Harlan. The mean, calculated menacing version he hid from me when I was here the first time. To think I actually thought he liked me, that he wanted to help me. I’m a fool. Nothing but a naïve idiot.
After a few minutes, when he’s happy I’m clean, he reaches for the button once more, turning off the flow of water. I shake uncontrollably, my body desperate for some warmth.
“Out,” he orders, digging his nails into the top of my arm as he drags me from the bathtub. His face comes so close to mine I physically gag. “Brush your teeth,” he barks, thrusting my limp body towards the sink. Nodding, I reach for the brush and the tube of paste on the back of the sink. My hand shakes as I grip the paste. Squeezing a blob onto the bristles of the brush I begin brushing. I glance at myself in the mirror as I brush. I barely recognize the reflection that stares back at me. My face is gaunt, my skin mottled. My eyes look sunken and the skin around them is so dark. My collarbone sticks out like I’ve never seen before. The fresh water and mint taste in my mouth makes my stomach growl, reminding me just how hungry I am. I shiver, a pool of water has collected on the floor from my body. Grabbing my arm, he leads me into the bedroom and over to the closet. Pulling out a bathrobe, he thrusts it toward my chest.
“Put this on.”
I nod again, sliding my arms into the robe and fastening the sash. “Sir wants you to eat. I’m not sure why, maybe he’s not a fan of the skin and bones look.” He laughs, leading me out of the room and down the stairs. My legs are so weak, but I manage to stay upright, because I know my life depends on it. Harlan walks toward the huge room where he had the meeting with Brax and his men. As I walk through the door, I notice that it looks exactly like it did before. Everything in place. No bullet holes. It was like it never happened.
“Isabelle,” Alvrez holds out his arm and I’m dragged toward him, forced into his embrace. He wraps his arms around me, holding me there tightly. I weakly return the monster's hold, my hands resting against his back. Parting from me, he looks me directly in the eye.
“I can trust you now, can’t I?” His question seems less like a question and more like a warning.
Allowing my eyes to flutter shut, I nod my head slowly.
“I’m sorry you made me put you through that.” He tilts his head, his hand cupping my cheek. I want to recoil, to tear his hand away from my skin because it feels like it’s eating away at the flesh, but I can’t.
“This was my fault. I should never have tried to leave again. I understand now.” I let the lies fall from my mouth because it’s what I have to do to survive. But lying alone doesn’t feel like enough. I have to convince him. I have to make sure my lies are believable.
He narrows his wrinkling eyes on me. “I really hope you have learned this time, Isabelle. I’ve given you a second chance. There will be no more.”
“I understand.”
“Go fetch the poor girl some food,” he orders, his arm flying out as he points toward the door.
“Yes, Sir,” Harlan answers with a dip of his head, turning on his heel and heading out of the door.
“Sit, Isabelle, sit with me.” He smiles and I obey, dropping into the seat he points to just beside him. “I have so many plans for the two of us. I just need you to have a little more energy.” He smirks, a wicked, stomach-curling kind of smirk. I fight back my desire to cry, to let out all the pent-up emotion I feel, forcing myself to act with this evil, sadistic, excuse of a man. I feel like I lived through his other victim’s torture. I have their screams buried deep inside my soul. Their pleas play over and over in my mind. Being abused is bad enough, but watching it through the eyes of the monster is something else entirely. I stifle the scream that stirs deep inside, hiding it and holding it back.
“How… how long?” I choke out. “How long was I in there?” I clarify. I watch as he tilts his head, contemplating the answer.
“Several days, Isabelle. Some don’t last tha
t long without food and water. I’m proud of you, my angel. You really did fight to stay alive.”
I shudder, crossing my arms, digging my fingers into the soft cotton robe. For days I was in that hell. The worst kind of hell you could ever imagine. I have no idea how I survived it. But I did, and there must be a reason why. I have no idea what the reason may be, but I know one thing.
My story isn’t over yet.
Sleep is something I haven’t done in days. I’m expected to rest, but how can I? How can I heal my broken body when my mind races with what-ifs? What if she’s not there? God forbid, what if he’s hurt her… or worse? I shake my head violently as I try to clear the lurid thoughts from my mind. I need to stay positive. I have to find her, or all of this will have been in vain.
Pacing back and forth, I clutch my phone in my hand, desperate for the damn thing to vibrate. I’m nervously pressing the home screen button, over and over, hoping and willing something to show on the screen. Today is the day. Today is the chance to get her home and exact my revenge. My need for revenge is deep rooted, down into my very soul. It can only be cured one way. By killing every single motherfucker involved in ripping my heart out and taking her away from me. I will be savage and unforgiving. No amount of pleas or crying will save anyone today. It’s time they met their maker in the coldest, cruelest ways possible.
But first, we need to get inside. I have to make sure that this time I’m ready. Ready and focused for anything that bastard tries to throw at us. I need to be quicker, harder. There’s no way I’m letting her down this time.
A loud buzzing sound snaps me from my racing thoughts. I make my way over to the screen, noticing the van parked outside the gates, Nate’s head hanging out from the driver’s side window. I press the button. “Hey, man,” I shout over the intercom.
“Let us in,” he chirps, his voice rattles the speaker.
“Sure,” I say, pressing the button to open the gates. He drives onto the driveway, and I watch him and his men jump down from the truck, making their way to the front door. Opening the door, I welcome him with open arms, patting his back and shaking the hands of the other Savages that have arrived with him.
“So, you ready?” he asks, walking into the living room and dropping down onto the couch. His feet rest lazily on the coffee table in front. I watch as his men follow in behind him.
“So fucking ready,” I reply. “My men should be here any minute now,” I say checking my phone again.
“It will be okay.” Her voice startles me, and I snap my head, looking at Tara standing in front of me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“She came with me,” Nate interjects, jumping up from the couch and standing beside her. My eyes look between them, a look of guilt written all over their faces.
“Is something going on here?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at both of them. Tara shuffles her feet against the wooden floor in an attempt to act normal. “You know what… I don’t want to fucking know. But you stay here, got it?”
“I’m coming with you guys. I'll stay in the truck, ready to drive away. I told you before I’d be the getaway girl.” She flashes me a smile, but it isn’t working.
“No fucking way,” I reply. “You are not coming with us. End of story.”
“But why, Brax?” she whines, her arms dropping by her side. “I’ve supported you through this whole thing, surely it’s only fair that I see it through to the end?”
“She’s right, man,” Nate says shrugging his shoulders.
“No,” I roar. “I’m not having you caught up in the middle of this fucking mess. What if we don’t make it out? What if they get you too? No, no fucking way. This isn’t a game, Tara. This is messed-up fucking shit…”
“I’m not a little girl, Brax. I can take care of myself.”
Cocking my head to the side, I glare at her menacingly, trying to get through to her. “Oh, really?” I muse. “I’m not so sure about that, Tara.”
“Fuck you, Brax. That was different and you know it.” She’s yelling at me and the other guys just watch on as she continues to lose her shit. “You know what, that’s a really fucking low blow, even for you,” she growls at me through her gritted teeth. “I don’t want to talk about this here, got it?” She widens her eyes at me and I know exactly why.
“You are staying here.”
“Fine,” she sighs, crossing her arms and looking through her lashes at Nate. He reaches out, grabbing her arm, pulling her closer. “It’ll be okay,” he says with a determined nod.
“There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t,” she mumbles, her eyes burning into his.
“Tell me later,” he replies, his voice low and a smile creeping across his face. I can’t help but roll my eyes, stepping away from love’s young dream.
“Where are they? They should be here by now,” I say, checking the time again.
“We should really get going. The light’s fading, so this is the perfect time.”
“You’re right,” I reply to the bald-headed guy in front of me. My eyes scan the rest of the gang in front of me. “I’m not sure we’ve met before,” I say, offering him my hand. He takes it, shaking his ring-covered hand in mine.
“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Nate shouts over. “Let me introduce you to the guys.” Resting his hand on my shoulder he points to each guy, letting me know their names.
“Gus, Duke, Zane, Silver, and Jarvis.”
They all nod a little as their names are read out. Usually, when shit like this goes down, the room fills with tension. Everyone knows their lives are on the line, but here, it feels completely different. They are so relaxed and that scares the living shit out of me. Either they have zero fear or no idea what we are walking into. My guess is the latter.
“Where the fuck are your men?” Nate asks with narrowed eyes. “We need to hammer down the details. Get a plan in place.”
I nod, my frustrations growing as I start to wonder whether the motherfuckers will ever show. I bring up a name on my phone, resting it between my ear and my shoulder, adjusting the gun inside my jeans. I slam my boot against the coffee table as I listen to the ring over and over. I make sure the knife is secured by the strap around my ankle. The ringing stops and is replaced by breathing.
“Tommy,” I speak hastily. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Brax, my old friend.” His voice drawls out my name and I’m soon gripping the knife in my hand as a sudden feeling of rage washes through me.
“Carter, what the fuck…”
“You thought you could use MY men and go on a one-man crusade, without consulting me? No fucking way, Brax. You want my men, you work with me.”
“Our men, pussy. Our fucking men.”
“MY men,” he roars. “Or are you forgetting you’d be nothing without me? I brought you into this world; I made you who you are. Those men work for me. Not you.” I’m just about to reply when the line goes dead. I draw the knife out of its holder, stabbing it straight into the wooden coffee table.
Tara gasps and the rest of the guys go silent. All eyes are on me as I slump over the table, my hand still resting on the handle of the knife.
“B… B… Brax,” she quietly stutters my name. “What’s happened?”
“Carter fucking happened, that’s what,” I roar, unable to calm the anger bubbling inside of me. He’d put a stop to me finding her, using fear to control the men I had working with me. “They ain’t coming, man,” I say with a sigh, pushing my hands through my hair.
“Fuck,” he replies, rubbing his thumb and finger together. “We can still do this, Brax,” he says with a little optimism. “We have seven men. Seven, really good men.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I give him a nod. “What option do I have? I have to save her, or at least fucking try. But I won’t let this go. Carter will have to answer for what he’s done.”
Tara smiles warily at me, her eyes looking sad. “I’m sorry,” she says with a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Maybe
I can try to talk to him? Make him see sense.”
“It won’t work,” I say, pulling my knife free from the table and placing it back in the holder. “There’s more to this than meets the eye. For years he has helped me search for Isabelle. Why turn his back on me now?”
“Sounds like a power struggle to me, man,” Nate adds.
“Nah, there has to be more. I just don’t know what… yet. But believe me, I’ll find out. I have to.”
I force down the last mouthful of food. My stomach has shrunk so small that a few mouthfuls make me feel full and bloated. In the back of my mind I know I have to eat as much as I can. There's no knowing when my next meal will be.
“Good girl,” he says with a smirk, his finger catching a few fallen strands, moving them out of the way. “You have such a beautiful face, Isabelle.”
“Thank you,” I say with the fakest smile I can muster.
“You know, it hasn’t been easy for me; this whole situation is not what I wanted. Seeing you suffer was never part of the plan.”
Liar. His sick fantasies all revolve around seeing me in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I say pushing my hands between my thinner-than-usual thighs.
“I promise to take good care of you, but you have to do what I say. Got it?”
“Yes,” I say with a nod, my body starting to shake involuntarily. No matter how hard I try to fight the fear, I just can’t. My mind won’t let me forget what I’ve suffered through, just how bad the torture was.
“Show me,” he says, and my eyes shoot up to meet his. “I want you to show me how sorry you really are.” I swallow down the dread that has built in my throat. I knew he had allowed me to live for one reason, and one reason only. So he could abuse me. So I would fulfill his every fantasy.
“How?” I ask. My heart races and I almost cower as he closes the gap between us. I have to fight to stop myself retracting. I feel his breath on my cheek and instantly my body stills. I feel like the room is closing in on me. He leans closer and I allow my eyes to drift shut. He places a gentle kiss on my cheek and my body shudders, covering in goose bumps, but not in a good way. My stomach rolls, and I feel as though I’m going to heave.
The complete scars series: Books one-four Page 27
