Messy and Shattered

by Mercy Cortez

  I didn't trust her or this situation one bit. "You don't ever touch me without my consent, is that understood?"

  She looked a little hurt, her eyes read as offended and then a blameless look. She nodded and stayed still.

  "Okay, now, we have some stuff to do. You've been here almost a week and a half and you need some basic training or you'll end up dying once we sell you off, and then we get angry customers. So, Ms. Davies, you choose. Pain or pleasure?" I kept my voice direct without hinting at any preference for either. She looked to the ground and mumbled.

  "…Pleasure?"

  I immediately slapped her across the face; I watched her cheek turn a perfect red.

  "First lesson ... It is never about what you want. You are a product. You're nothing. Repeat it." I had to be firm. She had to learn, so that at the show Jethro had told me about, she would be the one to watch.

  She glared at me, not repeating it. I sighed at her and slapped her hard across the face again, she made a little noise. Then her eyes fell to the ground - as did the tears - as she spoke.

  "I am a product. I am nothing." She was mumbling. It pissed me off.

  "Again, louder!" I demanded.

  "Please, Draco." She was sad. I couldn't care.

  "Please what? I'm helping you. Trust me, the sooner you learn, the better. Now say it."

  "I am a product. I... I am nothing." She said it louder, firmer, and I knew she believed it. She had to. She would be sold, no doubt.

  "Now, on your knees before me," I ordered. I had no time to coddle her, she would learn now if I had to beat it into her.

  "I... My knees are bruised from..." she was mumbling again and I wasn't having it.

  "I don't care. I gave you a fucking order, now do it, and if you keep mumbling I’ll give you something that will make it hard not to scream.” Frankly I was expecting more of a fight. Yes, Rahul had beaten her, but I knew her spirit was still in there, or it was last night. I had watched her on the monitors all night, I heard as she cried out my name as she slept. I wondered why that was, why call out for me of all people? She was on her knees in front of me, her head bowed down. Her hair looked so silky and soft. I had enjoyed washing her hair, it reminded me of a childhood I had long forgotten, where I wasn't a murderer and my biggest task was wondering what meal we would have for dinner that night. I let her stay kneeling; she would look up eventually. They always did, and then I’d make her regret it. What I couldn't grasp is why, looking at her head bowed down, I was almost pleading in my mind that she wouldn't look up but why the hell did I care? Maybe I should be repeating it instead. She is a product. She is nothing.

  The plan was clear; I had to tell her about the show soon. That wouldn't be fun. It had been ten minutes without her looking up and so I waited. She hadn't flinched at all; another five minutes passed and I knew I shouldn't just wait until she looked, I should praise her.

  "You didn't look up. Good girl. If you had looked up, I would have made you regret it. Because you didn’t, I will instead let you kiss me.”

  “Wow, isn’t that so selfless of you. First you murder my sister, and then you practically strangle me. After that, you beat my thighs so I can’t walk, and finally, of course, you let your friend almost rape me. But now I get to kiss you? That makes it worth every goddamn second!”

  I grabbed her face by her cheeks and kissed her lips hard; she tried to remain firm to it but she melted against my lips; and that was my cue to pull away.

  “Now shut up and stand and face me." She did as I commanded without argument.

  I had to get her used to men touching her, even if she was still a little raw from Rahul. Rahul hadn't come back yet and I was glad. I was easing her in gently. Once he was back, I couldn't protect her as much. I held her waist close to me and looked into her broken and shattered soul through her swollen eyes. I wanted to apologise again, but stopped myself. This wasn't my problem. She wasn't my problem. This was a job. This was my job.

  Chapter Seventeen - Rahul

  I had my fun with the little bitch. Looking at the twenty-something blond that was passed out next to me; I smiled, remembering Aimee’s face as I had shoved my finger inside her. She was terrified, and that was my aim. I wanted Draco to find us. I had hoped I would be deep inside her by then; he would have been absolutely destroyed by it. But I still had the upper hand with him. He killed the one I wanted, so I took something from him. It was only fair. I looked at the girl in my bed, such a shame she was such a whiny slut. I paid her, if I wanted to punch her in the pussy she shouldn't complain. But hey, she passed out from shock eventually and now she wouldn’t speak again. I remember one night with Dahlia; she asked me why I was like this. She was in my arms and I was rubbing her head because I had pulled a handful of her hair and a bit of her scalp out while fucking her from behind half an hour before. I told her the truth: I know what I like, and women are just a way for me to enjoy my life. I use women because that’s the way it works. My father used my mother, and I use the women I want. I don't feel sad for hurting them, they are here for me. After she asked me that, I raped her. I told her I was showing her what I meant. She cried the whole time. It was amazing, and I had gotten so hard. I am what I am, I make no apologies. To be in this business, you have to have no morals, and I've mastered that. I got up and got dressed to go back to The Shell when I got a call.

  "Rahul speaking, what do you want?" I was blunt; I didn't have time for shit.

  "Rahul, I need to talk to you, I saw the brunette girl on your site, I know I shouldn't call but-"

  "Damn right you shouldn't fucking call, Jesus. What the fuck do you want, what about her?" I was so livid; I wanted to beat his face in.

  "I know, but I heard she is going to be at the The Lights show, and I was wondering if it was true?" Jays French accent was so over the top at times, I could swear it was fake. The Lights? I wasn't aware we were even invited, but thinking about it, that was the highest show for the best girls. The best buyers in the world attended this show; I’m not sure how we would ever snag an invite to that. I mean, yes, Aimee was pretty and British, but The Lights? Maybe Draco wasn't so bad after all.

  "When is the show?" I was thinking about Aimee’s bruised face and body, no fucker would want her like that.

  "Two weeks’ time. So, will she be there? I want to see her."

  "She’ll be there, no doubt" and I hung up.

  Chapter Eighteen - Aimee

  I was bent over the bed. I felt pretty fucking stupid and my whole body still ached from the psycho that beat me.

  "Legs wider." I moved a little and sighed out of sheer boredom.

  "Wider, Aimee," he grumbled.

  "Why? What are you expecting to see? It’s my arse, I’m sure you've seen quite a few, it generally doesn’t change much from person to person." I wasn't scared of Draco, how fucking stupid was that? The other guy beat me, Draco murdered my sister in front of me, yet I feel safer with him? Yeah, I’m definitely going insane. I felt him behind me, he didn't speak. He pushed my thighs apart and placed his hand on my bare arse.

  "Did you know, if you opened your legs wider ..." I felt a sharp sting on my arse, he had slapped me hard against my arse cheek; I bit inside my mouth to stop a little whine and he rubbed my arse cheek lightly “... That wouldn't have hurt so much?"

  I pushed my legs wider still and he laughed. My mind flew. Flew to a place I kept kicking away. To the place that told me I loved his laugh, like a joy in the mix of hate, like the happiness in a sea of sadness. It was obscene, but my mind kept betraying my need to hate this murderer and his laugh didn't help.

  "Ready?"

  Before I had a chance to respond, he struck my arse - harder this time - and I knew he had been a little kind before. He didn't rub me this time; he just struck me again and again and I felt tears in my eyes. He started speaking through the smacks and I tried to listen. I felt myself becoming aroused and I pushed to remove this idiotic response to a man beating me like I was a little girl, getting
a slap on the arse… but this was more erotic, his moan every time he caught my arse cheek made my breath shake. His voice; don't cry, and listen to his voice.

  "You know, I was right about you. A fighter, even now, not giving me a moan or a tear, just fighting through the pain. That's the best way. Listen, because you need to know to understand… in a couple of weeks you’ll be taken to a show..." I breathed harder as he began rubbing my cheeks a little and then hitting again, "...This show is called The Lights."

  He stopped hitting and talking. He made me face him. He looked at my dry cheeks and my tear filled eyes and pushed me to sit on the bed.

  "You can cry, you know. It honestly doesn't get me off, my dear. Now, this show… ever heard of the red light district?" he asked so casually like he hadn't just left bruises all over my arse and that him making me sit wasn't agonizing. And no, I wouldn't cry. I was refusing to now, until it was really necessary.

  "Yes, I have heard of it. Why?" I sat naked on the bed. He was sweating a little - from hitting me, I guess. My privates still tingled a little, but I chose to ignore it.

  "It is sort of like that. Basically, there are windows - about thirty or so. Each window has a male or female for sale. If someone is interested in purchasing the person in the window, they push a button and the light turns on. Then your trainer – me, in this case - shows them how obedient you are, and if they like it, they make a bid at the auction. It’s simple, really. After that, they have one night with you, and then they double the bid they made for the night to keep you permanently. So you see, you need to be prepared." He said it like it was no big deal, like it was just a process. It occurred to me that to him, I was apparently a product, and therefore it really meant nothing how I felt. So why couldn't I believe that? Why did I see fucking kindness in those eyes when I wanted to see the depths of hell? I was a Sociology student, I knew the reason why. I knew what was happening and yet I decided not to allow my brain to realise it, not yet. He was a murderer. He beat me and he would sell me without a second thought. My plan was simple: make him buy me. Stupid, maybe, but I thought, better the devil you know than the devil you don't. I realized, though, that I was nothing to him, my plan would fail and for the first time since I had seen my sister bleed to death, I felt truly hopeless. I clutched my locket, trying to really believe that I wasn't alone, but really, what did I have?

  I would be sold soon. Maybe it was about time I accepted it.

  "Okay. So what do you want me to do?" I noticed his head move ever so slightly to the side in a mix of confusion and satisfaction. He expected me to fight or ask questions and maybe eventually I would, but right now I just wanted to give in and sob, pretending it was from the pain he was giving me when I felt in my soul I had just died. My body was the only thing left and it was almost damaged beyond repair.

  It had taken a week for him to break me. In two more, I would be shattered.

  Chapter Eighteen - Draco

  I hadn't been kind to her. I left her laying on the bed sobbing for the third day in a row. Today I had shown her an array of instruments I would use at the show. Her eyes were glassy the entire time, and I tried to pretend that I didn't notice. I had to show her many things. She was being sold for whatever the buyer wanted, sex may not even come into it; the man who buys her may just beat her, but I had little doubt he would also rape her. She had to gain a high pain tolerance, or before long, she would end up unresponsive and in shock, which would bode poorly for everyone. She needed to be perfect so that my plan would work.

  I looked at her sitting in the bed as I watched the monitors. She was staring into nothing. I was fairly certain she was experiencing cabin fever; she had nothing to do all day but wait for me. Of course, that was the general idea. Usually when we had a girl I would spend most of my time in here, in this dusty office, with three pine desks, one leather chair and spot lights shining down on the three LCD screens showing all her movements. I would just sit in the leather desk chair and watch to make sure everything was going well. I had trained a couple of girls when Rahul was otherwise engaged, and I always sensed the sigh of relief they had when I walked into the room instead of Rahul. I remember one girl, Fatima, was fairly old for what we usually take at twenty five but she had such radiant beauty. She only spoke Portuguese, and therefore hardly ever spoke at all. One day when Rahul was away with one of his many prostitutes, she kept repeating the same words to me over and over: “me matar.” At the time, I had no idea what the words meant, but later I found out what she was saying. She had been pleading with me to kill her.

  I watched Aimee for an hour. I was slightly curious where Rahul could be, but I decided not to care. He had been gone longer before, and he always came back. I felt something as I watched her. She was still naked, which amused me a little. I guess she thought it made sense, but she had been so modest before. But then, all her modesty had been stripped from her. She had lost weight. Her hip bones where defined and her stomach extremely flat; she had been skinny anyway and the lack of food made the weight fall off of her. She needed to be bigger and healthier. I was telling myself it was for the show, I knew deep down the show wasn’t what I cared about. Her hazel eyes just looked distant and confused. The bruises on her face had gone a little yellow and I was hopeful that it looked worse than it was.

  I needed to be near her. That was a thought I kept blocking, it was ridiculous. I had been warned by Jethro countless times that in this line of business, Stockholm syndrome was almost expected, but I was fairly certain the captors didn’t feel it. And yet, here I was, looking at this broken girl who rarely smiled anymore and all I wanted to do was go in there and hold her and make it all okay. Of course it would be a lie, but I think I needed the lie as much as she did. She was going to be gone soon. That was that. I got up with the intention of leaving her be and give her some privacy. Instead, I walked straight to her door.

  I entered and she looked at me. For a split second a smile crossed her lips, so slight that if I wasn’t trained in psychology and body language analysis, I wouldn’t have noticed. She was pleased to see me, even if she couldn’t admit it.

  “Hello. How are you feeling?” I was trying to be polite, I felt like the beast making an effort to be kind to the beauty. The only difference is that this beauty wouldn’t find her handsome prince in the end.

  “I’m great. This is like a holiday for me. I’m having the best time. Don’t suppose I can leave now? No? Didn’t think so.” She was so sarcastic, and although, in a way, she was dead serious I think that her wit was her way of surviving, her way of keeping a tiny amount of sanity.

  “Well as long as you’re enjoying yourself. How about your bruises, are they healing okay?” She would assume I only cared because of the show.

  She didn’t say anything and so I moved closer and touched her bruises on her thighs. She moved away a little and then let me.

  “They seem to be healing. The cuts aren’t infected, that’s good.”

  I moved in closer and cupped her face in my hand, and she took a sharp breath. I found myself mumble ‘beautiful’ under my breath, and then I was captivated by her stare. I quickly pulled away.

  “You’ll be fine, they’ll clear up in no time,” I whispered to her.

  I had to leave before I did something un-insane captor Draco-like. I stood to get up when she touched my arm.

  “You have a scar.” She lightly placed her fingers where three small scars lay on the inside of my forearm.

  “Yeah. Nothing, really.” I went to yank my hand away. I didn’t want to discuss any of my real life with her, even if it was a life I barely remember.

  She started rocking in the bed and my mind worried for her. She needed to get out of here. She needed something to keep her mind active or she would be unresponsive anyway, and seeing Aimee lose her wit would be like looking into a soulless being. She would have finally lost everything. I grabbed her by the hand and she stood automatically. I wasn’t sure this was exactly a great plan, but she couldn’t los
e her mind in here. She had to fight so I could help her. I marched her through the doors; the musty brown hallway, the clinical porch and to the large wooden and metal door leading to open air, to sunlight, to the world. I opened it and watched her expression. I quickly grabbed some rope by the door and tied her to me.

  “What are you doing, Draco?” She stared into the empty landscape, the trees and fields of nothing. The sun hit her naked skin and showed how delightful and sun-kissed it looked in the light. She smiled, a genuine smile of hope and life. I stared at her with my mind in a place I hadn’t found in so many years. I named the place in my mind, I named the emotion. It was happiness. Seeing her smile evoked such a warm feeling of happiness inside me I never wanted to look away. Her eyes narrowed and the rope tugged a little, I heard footsteps, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Her mouth dropped open and suddenly her eyes locked onto mine while she tried to run with me attached to her. She knew she couldn’t really move and instead her arms moved around me and she pressed herself against me; hiding in my chest.

  “Please, Draco. Please don’t let him. Please.” She was speaking fast and scared. I finally looked up to Rahul staring back.

  Chapter Nineteen - Aimee

  I needed to run, needed to be away from him. Suddenly I wanted clothes on. I didn’t want him to see me. I pulled so close into Draco, he was the only protection I had and it made me hate myself for needing him.

  “Hello, Rahul. Welcome back. As you can see, you left your mark on her. It’ll be fun trying to sell her like this.” Draco had a tone of annoyance and impatience in his voice, and the man - the one who had tried to rape me - finally had a name.