Aftermath (The Deceptions Trilogy Book 2)

by Dana Mansfield

  “Thank you,” I said when Jack was done. Emotionally, I was numb. Physically, I hurt. Tears sprang up and I let them fall. Jack comforted me as he had done in the middle of the night. When would this hell be over?

  Chapter 22

  We fell into a terrible routine. Upon waking, Jack and I usually had about an hour to ourselves. We talked a lot, made sure each of us were okay, and finally waited for one of our captors to come. Jack would hold me in that hour and it helped to prepare me for what would happen next. We never spoke of what happened when I went away. This would be a rough time for Jack as the withdrawal would be at its highest at that time. Despite me going with Landon, Jack was back on the heroin.

  My sacrifice intensified my depression although I hid it from Jack. That was easy to do as he spent so much time under the influence. After the first experience with Landon of the day, we were given breakfast. I had no appetite because of what I was doing with Landon but to keep Jack from harping on me, I ate what I could. Before Jack would administer his heroin, he always made sure he told me he loved me and held me for several minutes. Then it was time for Jack to shoot up and he was out of it until right before lunch. These were very lonely hours for me.

  But before lunch, I would have to go with Landon. Sometimes he took his time, sometimes it was nothing more than what one would consider a quickie, but other times he became quite violent. I would never know what would set him off. It was nothing I ever did; I was quietly compliant. I did my best to take my mind to somewhere else for the duration of the act but there were times when Landon was just too rough.

  I would be taken back to the cell and we would eat lunch and Jack would again hold me for a few minutes to make sure I was okay. I wasn’t okay and he knew it but there was nothing he could do to change the situation. All he could do was try and ease my emotional pain. In the afternoon while Jack soared on his high, I would try and nap. My time with Landon often left me sore and exhausted. I woke up when Landon came for me, did what I had to do, and then returned for dinner. Again, it was lonely after we ate and Jack was out of it.

  But then he would come out of the fog and we would have time to talk or just sit where Jack held me and whispered comforting thoughts in my ear. We often fell asleep in each other’s arms. Despite what Landon was doing to me, I had no nightmares. It was if my depression was muting that portion of my brain. But then the strashnyi golos would start talking, calling me a whore for what I was doing. It fueled my depression. It took everything I had to keep it from Jack but it wasn’t easy. I was struggling trying to keep up a strong front but the depression was chipping away at it. I had no interest in food and just wanted to sleep. I forced myself to eat, however, since we were being given better food.

  My latest urinary tract infection cleared up and Vivienne would give me a once over every couple of days. I often had a heavy, aching chest during my time with Landon but it was never severe enough to need the nitroglycerin. The heart that was my soul was dying, however. Each time with Landon pushed me further into my depression and I began to grow numb.

  One morning I woke up before Jack and was standing by the open window, breathing in the early morning air. I hoped it would clear my mind, lift my depression, but all it did was reinforce the fact that Jack and I were captives.

  The strashnyi golos was loud that morning.

  You’re such a worthless whore. I let my tears go quietly.

  “Dobroye utro,” Jack said

  “Good morning,” I replied back and quickly wiped my tears away before Jack noticed. I wasn’t quick enough, however.

  “What is the matter, Penny?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around me.

  “The strashnyi golos,” I answered. There was no reason to lie to him. “It’s just reminding me what a whore I am.” Jack turned me around and cupped my face. There was a little force to his actions.

  “Penelope, I never want you to call yourself a shlyukha again,” he said. Jack was mad and he let me go.

  You’ve made him mad. Good job. More tears came and all I wanted was Jack to hold me but he was pacing back and forth muttering in Russian. My knees were aching from standing so I sat down and continued to cry.

  Crybaby. You’re the one that offered yourself up first. You should be used to fucking like this. You did it so well with Shane.

  The door to the cell slid open. It was William.

  “Crying before the deed is done,” he said, “that’s a new one.” This made me feel so low. “Come on, Pretty Penny. You know Landon hates to wait.”

  “Please, I beg of you. Do not make her go,” Jack begged. “It is harming her.”

  “Like I’ve said before, Jack, you’re being very honorable but we’ve already negotiated this. Let it go,” replied William.

  “I cannot let it go. She is being raped,” Jack said.

  “She’s going willingly.”

  “She was given an impossible choice.” All William did was shrug his shoulders and motion for me to come. My legs were giving me problems and I struggled to walk. When I passed Jack, he pulled me into a quick hug. “I love you,” he whispered into my ear and I nodded in response. I took a deep, jagged breath and followed William.

  . . .

  The act was over quickly but was just as soul killing as all the previous times. My legs were even shakier returning to the cell and as soon as the door was open, Jack was ready to catch me. He guided me down and held on to me. There were no words between us. What could be said?

  I was the one to break the embrace and crawled over to my corner. I pulled my knees up and lay my head on them. I was numb. I didn’t know how much more I could take.

  “I know the last thing you are probably thinking of is food but breakfast is here,” Jack said, sitting down next to me with our covered tray. The smell of the food made me nauseous but if I refused to eat, Jack would harp and I was in no mood for that. The scrambled eggs and bacon were all tasteless to me; the only thing that tasted good was the orange juice. Maybe it was the sharp acid taste that cut through my numbness but Jack let me drink his juice also.

  The juice ate at my stomach, however, and as soon as Jack was out of it, I stuck my finger down my throat and vomited it up. It made me feel better but in a bad way as the strashnyi golos pointed out.

  That’s all you have control of, Pretty Penny.

  And so my vomiting became part of the terrible routine. The strashnyi golos congratulated me after each time I vomited and the fact that I was being so deceptive to Jack. He thought my appetite had come back and was happy to see me eat. But as soon as he was out, I threw up. The strashnyi golos was right; it did give me control in the situation where I had no control. It was such a cliché.

  Each day without food made me feel stronger emotionally. Physically, it didn’t take long before I started to feel faint when I stood up. If I stood slowly, I could right myself. Jack eyed me suspiciously when I stood but I just told him my legs were bothering me. I was lying to Jack but the strashnyi golos kept me from caring. I knew I should care but the strashnyi golos was so strong.

  Five days after I started vomiting, I was feeling the worst. My stomach was constantly grumbling and I was feeling faint even while I sat waiting for William or Landon to come get me. This worried me and I didn’t hear Jack talking to me.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jack said after getting my attention by shaking my shoulder lightly.

  “Nothing in particular,” I replied and pinched myself to focus. Jack just could not know what I had been doing. The door slid open revealing William.

  “Time for some fun, Pretty Penny,” he said with his sick smile. Using the wall for support, I rose to my feet but had to steady myself. I worried about walking into what I had beg
un to call the rape room. Each step was shaky and I could not keep up with William. Things began to swirl around me and I felt myself begin to fall.

  . . .

  When I opened my eyes, I saw the straw mat of our cell. Raising my head, I saw that Jack sat just a couple feet away from me. He was looking at me but not with a happy face.

  “You have been making yourself sick?” he questioned. I turned my face away from Jack and laid it back down on the mat. I didn’t want to talk about this. “William checked the camera. He is taking away the good food. He is not happy.” Jack paused. “I am not happy. Why did you not let me know you were struggling?”

  “And when would I tell you? You’re high most of the day.”

  “That is not fair, Penny.”

  Jack was right and I had no comeback for him. I had screwed things up. No longer were we to receive good and adequate food. A thought popped in my head – would I still have to submit to Landon? The answer to that was yes. Just a few minutes after the thought, Landon came for me. He hauled me to my feet roughly and didn’t even wait to see if I could take steps on my own. He hauled me over his shoulder like a fireman and took me to the rape room.

  . . .

  Jack took the pills Vivienne gave him. They were to help with heroin withdrawal. Not only were they losing the good food, there would be no more heroin. Honestly, that was a good thing but there was a small part of Jack that was disappointed. William had blown his top when he looked back at the video and saw that Penny was making herself sick. He took it as a sign that Penny was trying to kill herself to get out of the situation and even though Jack tried to counter that argument, it had done no good.

  “You’ll probably still feel pretty crappy for a few days but what I’ve given you should help,” Vivienne said and packed away her things. Landon showed up with Penny and dropped her on the mat. Jack sucked his breath in when he saw her battered face. He wanted to call Landon a bastard but he didn’t want to make the situation worse. Vivienne said it instead as she looked at Penny’s face.

  “I thought she needed a lesson,” Landon replied.

  “William is in charge. He will not be happy with you.”

  “Whatever,” muttered Landon and walked out of the cell. Vivienne took a few moments to clean up Penny’s face.

  “Thank you,” Jack said honestly.

  “It was nothing,” she replied, packed her stuff back up, and left. Jack moved closer to Penny. They needed to have a talk.

  “Penny?” he called but she did not turn her head towards him. Maybe she was in some sort of shock from the rape and being beaten. Jack used his hand to gently turn Penny’s head. She looked at him with sad eyes. It was tough for Jack to see but he wasn’t surprised. She was going through something no woman should ever go through. “Why have you been making yourself sick?” he asked quietly. She swallowed and dropped her gaze.

  “I honestly don’t know,” she replied. “That day, the orange juice was just bothering me so much so I made myself throw up. Then the strashnyi golos started talking and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t resist It. William is wrong; I wasn’t trying to kill myself.” Penny raised her gaze. “I’m sorry for causing problems. It’s not fair that they’ve taken the good food away from you.”

  “And they took it from you also. This was our chance to try and get a little bit ahead.”

  “You’re mad at me.”

  “Not mad, just disappointed.” Penny looked shocked from his words. He felt bad but she had to understand how the situation had changed because of what she did. She shook her head and then clumsily laid down on the mat with her back to Jack.

  . . .

  I stared at the peeling paint of the wall. My head hurt both from the beating I took but also from Jack’s words. He didn’t understand. What I was going through – being raped three times each day – left me feeling so helpless. The vomiting gave me control over something. My intention was not to get us punished; I didn’t think William would even have cared.

  Jack touched my shoulder but I just shook it off. I didn’t want to interact with him. Instead, I just lay on the mat and stared at the wall, waiting. Soon it would be time to go to the rape room again. Did Jack even care? Could he not empathize with me? That wouldn’t be Jack though; he was always a caring person.

  The door opened and my stomach dropped. It was time. I felt hands on my upper arms and was pulled to my feet. I looked at Jack but he wasn’t looking at me. This hurt. His sympathetic face sometimes helped me when I needed to force my mind to wander away from what was happening. Suddenly, my world that did not make sense spiraled down even more.

  Landon dragged me to the rape room and pushed me down onto the bed. He kept me face down and I turned my gaze to the window. There were woods out there and I forced my mind to go back to the cabin where I was safe. I remembered the many trips with the kids and how much fun they had playing in the lake. We would take hikes, nothing major since some of the kids were smaller, but they all enjoyed wandering the woods that Jack owned. I yearned for the quiet nights when the kids were asleep and it was just Jack and I on the screened porch. Crystal would already be asleep but Jack and I talked as we had done so many times in his home and on the phone if he was on tour. It took every ounce of my mental energy to imagine myself at the cabin while Landon forced himself on me.

  Finally, Landon was finished and I breathed easier as he climbed off of me. The man was a lout and solid and I sometimes felt like I was having my breath stolen from me when he lay his whole weight on me. I wondered how long this was going to last. How many more days was I going to be used like I was nothing?

  I struggled to walk back to the cell and was glad to get back to my corner where I pulled my legs up. Jack sat quietly with a covered tray next to him. Had he not eaten lunch? It was too soon for dinner. I wasn’t ready for another go around with Landon. Not that I had a choice.

  “Lunch is still here,” Jack said and uncovered the tray. The single sandwich was still whole; Jack had not eaten. He scooted closer with the tray and held up half the sandwich to me. I shook my head; food was the last thing I wanted and not because of the strashnyi golos. Jack said nothing and ate his half of the sandwich and drank half the glass of milk. He covered the tray and pulled his legs up, resting his forearms on his knees and staring at the wall opposite us.

  And so we no longer talked. The routine changed. Gone were the reassuring hugs from Jack along with his comforting, whispered words. When I felt like it, I ate and Jack did his duty to feed me but that was all the interaction there was. When we slept at night, there was as much space between us as possible.

  This new reality hit my already battered soul even harder. The strashnyi golos had me believing that Jack no longer cared for me and his behavior certainly backed that up. I felt worse than those months after the weekend at the cabin. My depression surged and the strashnyi golos was near constant in my mind. When Jack was asleep, I cried a lot. All I wanted him to do was hold me and make me feel safe again but he was quietly treating me like a pariah. I really didn’t understand. All this because I was making myself sick? What was I missing? It couldn’t have been just about the quality and quantity of our food. Or was it the heroin that was behind Jack’s change in behavior? I didn’t know. All that I did know was that I wanted Jack back but I didn’t know how to go about that.

  . . .

  It was late one night about a week after Jack’s change. We were both lying on the mat waiting for sleep when the door to the cell opened up. I smelled Landon before actually seeing him in the faint light. He was drunk and loud.

  “Where is my bitch?!” he yelled and stumbled into the cell. I was instantly frightened and went for my corner while Jack hopped up and put himself in between me and Landon. The thug tried
to hit Jack but he was so soused he missed. Jack used what little muscle he had to shove Landon out the door. He landed on his butt and then flopped back. Jack took a few steps backwards breathing heavily.

  “Syn suka,” he said and ran a shaking hand over his matted hair. Light from the workshop illuminated him. “Are you okay?” he asked and kneeled down to me. That was the most he said to me in a week.

  “Yes, just shaken,” I replied.

  “Da,” said Jack.

  “Thank you for stopping him.”

  “He is only stopped for as long as he is passed out. I am worried about when he wakes up,” Jack explained. “He is going to be very angry when he wakes up.” We didn’t say anything for several minutes. I didn’t know if Jack was thinking of the same thing I was so I voiced my thoughts.

  “Jack, the door is open.” This was our chance. I stood up and went to the door. The door into the workshop was also open. Freedom lay before us. “We have to take this chance.” I looked at Jack. He didn’t appear to convinced.

  “Okay,” he finally said and took my hand. We walked as quickly as my legs would allow and were soon standing outside. The night was clear, stars galore twinkled above us. The grass was cool beneath my feet. I was worried, however. I didn’t know how far my legs would take me. Adrenaline was giving me more strength, however.