by Dori Lavelle
He grunted but didn’t weaken. His hand was around my wrist again before I could take the next breath.
When I continued to fight, making it hard for him to fuck me, he dragged me from the bed and handcuffed me to a stripper pole on one side of the room. Without my hands to help me, I was powerless. I thought he would start raping me again, but he stormed back to the bed.
A selection of whips was lined up at the foot of the bed. He picked up the first braided one.
My body felt the sting before it even touched me. When it did, my shriek was deafening, coming from my heart. The whip tore at me, ripped me apart, cut me deep. When he paused, it was only to gaze at the cameras, to make sure they were still witnessing my punishment.
Done beating me, he threw the whip aside and pulled me up from my kneeling position at the foot of the pole. He pushed me up the pole, wrapped my legs around his body, and pressed his cock into me. This time, I could only give a low sob.
As he thrust in and out, I jerked up and down the pole, the handcuffs rubbing against the metal, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. Although having him inside me brought me no pleasure, to my shock and disgust, my nipples hardened. I felt sick, betrayed. How could that be? How could my body respond to this torture despite my outrage and revulsion?
Saliva pooled in my mouth but I held the bile down, praying he would finish soon and let me go. I tried not to think that every time he fucked me, he exposed me further to the virus.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When I woke up the next morning, I found myself curled up on the floor instead of the mattress. I had no idea how I got there. Maybe I’d been in so much pain during the night that I’d moved.
My cheek was pressed into the cold floor, though I hardly noticed the chill over the pain that tormented my body.
After last night, I thought I would be locked up inside my chamber for a while without food or drink. I feared Alvin had had enough of me and was going to come and kill me.
Imagine my surprise when he walked in and told me to get ready for breakfast in the kitchen. I’d rarely eaten anything outside my chamber.
Sitting up was agonizing, but I refused to show him my struggle. Food was important.
As I ate the scrambled eggs and toast, he watched me without a word, his eyes intense, as scary as they’d been during the rape yesterday. I did my best not to look at him at all, turning to my pain for distraction. I followed it from the surface of my skin, into my flesh, to my heart and soul. How would I ever be able to function after all this was over? I was so completely shattered, I could barely hold the pieces of me together.
I gazed past his shoulder and out the window. My heart fluttered when I saw we were approaching an island. Were we stopping for fuel again?
He glanced behind him at the window. “That’s my private island. I think I mentioned it to you.” Pride infused his words.
I continued eating without acknowledging his remark, but something unfurled inside my stomach and fluttered. Stopping was good. It would make it easier for the cops to find me. And being trapped on his island would be better than being locked up inside the chamber, which was shrinking each day, closing in on me. I missed being outside, missed the smells of nature. The sounds of life.
Would there be another kind of dungeon waiting for me on the island? Would I only have a taste of freedom before I had to give it up again? Either way, after days of being on the water, a change of scenery would be welcome.
I chewed my food and continued to peer out the window, watching a white sandy beach, and palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze.
Life. Hope. Freedom. This journey was coming to an end… for now.
I hoped he wouldn’t kill me right away. Maybe the cops would have time to get to me, or maybe I’d be able to escape him on the island. If I got the chance, I’d run for my life.
“If you’re done eating, get up. Go for a walk on deck.”
I rose from the chair, but hesitated. Was he telling me to go alone? He’d always accompanied me. Were the rules changing?
No. He stood and came to take my arm.
Moments later, I stood on deck marveling at the beauty of nature as Jim drove the yacht into the main cove, where a few cabins sat above the beach. He parked the yacht. What next? I didn’t wait long for the answer.
“In case you’re excited about getting on the island, don’t be. You’re not stepping foot on it. I don’t trust you enough to let you off this yacht. You tried to run once. It won’t happen again.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Baby, this is where you are going to spend the rest of your life.”
My heart twitched with disappointment. I was stupid to have hope. Of course he knew my desperation for a change of scenery, and now my punishment was to keep it from me, to keep me confined only a quarter mile from shore.
I wanted to drop to my knees, to beg him for my freedom, but I restrained myself. I simply nodded and didn’t say a word, determined to do everything to keep myself together. If he’d expected me to break down, he had another thing coming. I’d come this far. Giving up wasn’t an option.
He locked me up again. When he left, I buried my face in the mattress and wept. Even though I had not shown him my fear and desperation, inside my heart and soul, I ached to get out into the open, to feel alive again. To touch the leaves of lush plants, to walk barefoot on grass, to dig my toes into the sand.
When I finished crying, I sat cross-legged on the mattress, staring into space, waiting. I expected nothing and yet hoped for the best. I dug under the mattress for my phone and switched it on.
There were several more emails from my mother and Kirsten. Their concern was palpable in each word they wrote. There were also some emails from Tina, my wedding planner. She still had no idea there would not be a wedding, and I couldn’t say anything to her yet. If I canceled the wedding, she might say something to the press. And Alvin read the papers. He would know I’d had contact with the outside world.
Jolene wrote as well, but she didn’t have anything new to say. The police were still working on my case. I wrote her a quick email and told her about my change in location, describing the island. I also told her to try and keep the news of my capture from the press. Then I switched off the phone and hid it again.
I groaned. My bladder was so full, my stomach hurt. I trudged over to my bucket in the far corner. I held my breath, blocking out the smell of my urine. Thank God that was all for now.
Most times I was scheduled for a walk on deck, Alvin allowed me to use the proper bathroom, so I usually did my best to hold it until then. And every couple of hours he emptied the bucket in my chamber. But now it had been two days and the bucket was full. Being surrounded by the smell of my own urine was yet another humiliation.
I urinated for longer than I expected, given that I had not had much to drink. Then I returned to the mattress and lay down, closing my eyes.
The sound of the clock ticking inside my head lulled me to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I moved to get my phone out, but a wave of sudden nausea washed over me. I pushed through my sleepy haze and hurried to the bucket, where I threw up until I felt empty. Great—now my chamber reeked of more than piss.
I threw myself on the mattress, arms wrapped around myself.
My eyes watered, my chest ached, and a headache slammed against my temples. After everything Alvin had done to me, it was no wonder my body was cracking.
A horrific thought crossed my mind. I killed it. I couldn’t be pregnant.
A few weeks after we moved in together, Miles had convinced me to go for a hormone shot instead of relying on the pill, since I always forgot to take it. We had agreed to put babies on the back burner as we wanted to focus on our careers first.
The memory showed me another red flag. Miles, or Alvin, had known our days as a couple were numbered, and a baby would only complicate things.
A silver rod of pain plunged into my heart. But I found relief in the fact that I did
n’t have Alvin’s baby growing inside me.
My relief was short-lived. What if I did have HIV, and it was developing into AIDS? Was that why I felt so sick?
Focus on escaping, Chloe. Worry about the rest later.
As I pulled out the phone to check my messages one more time, my mouth went dry. Holding back tears, I checked my emails. Owen had sent me one. Had Jolene given him my email address?
The subject of the email was simply “Delete This!!” I opened it, my heart pounding.
The battery icon at the top of the screen blinked. Not much time left.
The email was short and to the point:
I know where the island is. You have to hold on. I’ll send the cops.
Excitement replaced my earlier nausea.
I pressed the reply tab and started to compose a response, but the screen went blank. I tossed the phone aside. It was useless to me now. I had to get rid of it. I’d return it to the box on deck.
When Alvin showed up later, he wore beige shorts and a white t-shirt, and looked fresh and energized.
He gave me plain bread and water, then told me I could go up for a short walk. It couldn’t have been twenty-four hours since I’d had food, and went on deck. Fresh air would breathe new life into me.
On the way out, I carried the phone inside my underwear again.
At first I walked a few laps from one end of deck to the other, careful not to move too fast lest I got sick again. I waited until Alvin was settled in his deck chair before going to the box. Jim looked at me curiously as I shuffled closer and closer to the bridge, pretending to be exercising as usual, stretching my legs and arms. Close to the entrance of the bridge, I turned my back to Alvin, whose face was hidden behind the paper. I reached into my underwear and removed the phone.
Jim’s eyes were on me, but I didn’t turn to look at him.
Before I had a chance to carry out my plan, though, the breeze carried the sound of Alvin’s footsteps to me.
Shit.
He was headed in my direction, still reading the paper. Black fright swept through my body as he lowered it.
Moving my hand behind my back, I took a few steps back until I reached the railing.
“You’re up to something, aren’t you?” His gruff voice reached me moments before he did. The instant I uncurled my fingers to release the phone, he reached me.
The thud the phone made when it fell told me it had not hit the water.
Both our gazes lowered to the floor.
A long brittle silence crackled in the air as he bent to pick it up, turned it over in his hand, eyes still on my face. “Where did you get this?” His tone was dangerously calm.
A heavy coldness sank into my brain as I searched for an answer. Telling him I’d found it inside the box would be a mistake. If it had been Jim who’d left it there for me to find, Alvin would punish him for helping me.
Left with no better explanation, I said the first words that came to mind.
“From your room… last time I was there.”
His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I’m going to ask you one more question. Don’t you dare lie to me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Who did you contact?”
“No one.” The words came quickly. “I couldn’t—”
“I told you not to fuckin’ lie to me.” He moved even closer and grabbed a fistful of my hair, drew me to him.
“I’m… I’m really not.” I chose my words carefully. “I wanted to contact someone, but the battery is dead.”
He released my hair and raised the phone, pressed a button to switch it on. Relief mixed with fear on his face.
“See, I told you, it’s dead.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He tossed the phone overboard, grabbed my shoulders, and threw me to the floor.
My head hit the wood and my world started to spin.
“You didn’t succeed, but you’ll pay for trying.” He grabbed me by the clothes, dragged me past the bridge, where Jim gazed straight ahead, and took me to the studio.
It would have been so easy for him to find out if I’d used the phone. All he’d needed to do was charge it.
For the first time ever, I was grateful that his rage had blinded him.
***
Alvin tossed away the whip.
Nothing but a mess of blood and tears—and too weak to fight Alvin any longer—I remained limp as he tied my hands together.
He pushed me against the wall so I could sit upright, but my broken body kept flopping to the side, before finding its balance.
He zipped up his pants, and handed me the script.
“Your last confession.”
My heart broke as I gazed down at it, tears falling onto the paper, soaking through the words. I bit my bottom lip and turned away from him and the script, my eyes directed toward one corner of the studio, studying the cobwebs forming there.
For that, I received another whipping. My skin burned as though acid had been poured onto it. I shut my eyes and counted to ten, biting my bottom lip so hard it bled.
Finally I surrendered and bent my head forward, reading the words silently. The final confession would be my undoing. I was afraid of showing the world the true me, yes, but more than that, I dreaded that once this last video recording was done, he would be done with me. He’d murder me. He’d have gotten everything he’d wanted. But his murderous gaze wouldn’t let me back out. I braced myself for the worst and read aloud:
The night of September 15, 2002, I ran Alvin Jones over with my friend’s car. My friends and I watched him bleed to death. We did not call for help. Instead of doing the right thing, we threw him into a ditch in the nearby woods and buried him in a shallow grave.
I stopped reading and looked up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears that rolled down my cheeks. Then I took a deep breath and met his monstrous eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to run you over.” The apology rolled off my tongue. “I thought… Alvin, I thought you were going to kill me… all of us.”
“You didn’t call for help. You left me to die.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “Continue reading.”
After that night I continued on with my life. I lived as though I had no blood on my hands. I was selfish, and stupid enough to think I could go on without being caught.
I changed my name in an attempt to run away from the truth. The truth is, I’m a liar and a murderer. Alvin survived, but his mother didn’t. I do not deserve to live a good life. I do not deserve to live at all. I have destroyed many lives, and I deserve whatever punishment I get for my crimes.
By the time I read the last line, Alvin was at the door, leaning against it, his hands buried in his hair, his eyes wild. He looked crazy. My words had hurt him as much as they’d hurt me. He was reliving that night, and everything that happened afterward, just as I was.
The confession had come to an end. What would follow? Would he give in completely to his demons? Would he film my murder?
I was unprepared when he barreled into me, pushing my head into the wall so hard I expected it to burst.
“Stop,” I whispered.
Instead of letting go, he slammed my head into the wall. My eyes rolled in my head, and then darkness took me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The back of my head throbbed as my surroundings came in and out of focus.
I was still in the studio, still on the bed. My hand twitched. No handcuffs.
“Good that you’re back. Let’s continue.” Alvin propped me against the wall. It took a while to get me to stop shaking and falling sideways.
While I still struggled to stay upright, he produced his laptop. “I’ve something important to read to you.”
At first his words swam aimlessly inside my head. It took a while for me to organize them in such a way that helped me understand them.
He read something that sounded like a letter.
“Hold it the fuck together. Fan mail is waiting.” He gave me a twisted grin. “I neglected t
o tell you something. I won’t be posting the videos online. It’s not necessary. The shoots were all live.”
The first image that met my eyes as I focused on the screen was that of an erect penis. Nausea spun in my stomach as images of more penises, vaginas, and breasts sprang at me. My hand flew to my mouth.
Oh, my God. Internet sickos had been jerking off to my humiliation this whole time?
As he continued reading his fan mail, I fought to swallow the bile at the back of my throat.
One of the messages was from someone who called himself Deadly Dick. His words hit me like bricks from a collapsing building, crushing me, burying me.
That bitch deserves what she got. You’ve fucked her up good. Such a shame that you won’t film anymore. I’ll kind of miss her. She has one hot pussy.
Another came from someone calling themselves Poison Ivy.
Dear Vendetta, thank you for the best fuckin’ show on the Internet. I’ve never had as much fun as I did in the last days. Come on, man, you can’t stop filming. I live for this shit. Let me know if you share more videos.
Your everlasting fan, Poison.
There were a few video messages too, all of them filthy, with men practically salivating as they said horrifying things to me and praised Alvin for a job well done.
“These are great. Just fantastic.” Alvin threw back his head and roared with laughter. The sound made me want to pull out my own hair. “See, I’m doing the right thing. Let’s read one more before I decide what to do with you.”
“Don’t bother. I get it, okay?” I licked my dry lips, tasting my words before they exited. My nails dug into my palms. “What makes you think you’re better than me?” Each word strengthened my voice.
“Don’t you dare talk to me that way. Haven’t you learned your lesson?” His words were like darts to my ears, but he didn’t make a move to beat me. Instead he got off the bed and paced around the room.
I was unstoppable. “You think you’re doing the right thing. You think you’re all good and I’m all bad. You think you’ve got the moral high ground on a stupid, careless kid who humiliated you and your mother.” My voice quavered with fury. “How about what you’re doing to me? You did more to me than I could ever do to you in a million years. I’m sorry about what happened to your mother. I’ll live with it for the rest of my life. But that night, what I did—it was out of fear.” I broke down, burying my head in my hands, sweating and trembling, completely empty in both mind and body.
