by M. Robinson
We walked for what felt like miles. My bones were stiff from not moving them for days; the withdrawal made it worse and more intense.
“Stop,” he said from behind me.
That’s all it took, I stopped for a second and fell to the ground in pain, going straight into a fetal position.
“Miss Edwards,” he belittled from above me.
I hated it when he called me that and he knew it.
He slowly removed the blindfold from my eyes but I kept them closed. I didn’t want to look at him; if I did, then this whole ordeal was real. I wasn’t ready to come to that realization. I couldn’t look into the eyes of someone I thought I knew; he wasn’t there anymore, and looking at him would crush me.
“Ugh…” I let out and rolled onto my back, gasping for air as my chest heaved up and down. I’m sure I was quite a naked site. I could feel the blinding sun on my eyelids and it instantly caused my head to pound.
“Gianna,” he whispered, trying to get my attention. “Look at me.”
I shook my head no.
“Open. Your. Eyes.” I continued to shake my head no.
The unexpected, freezing cold water on my breasts bolted my body to a sitting position and my eyes immediately opened. I had to block the sun from my eyes with my arm; I thought my irises were on fire. It took a few seconds for my vision to finally adjust to the sunlight and I looked around, noticing I was in an empty field with a creek a few feet in front of me. I guess that’s where I will be bathing.
I took a deep breath and looked in the direction of my captor. I stared at his feet and saw his work boots first, and then I slowly worked my way up his body. He was wearing jeans and a white V-neck shirt, his muscles tightly fit around the sleeves and his torso. He was much bigger than he had been before, he must have spent most of his time in prison working out.
He looked older, there were soft wrinkles around his eyes but it only added to his appeal. His hair was longer and more pieces fell around his face, framing it. He was as handsome as ever, even more so. I quickly wondered how his appearance worked out for him in prison. And that’s when it clicked…he was going to punish me for what I did.
For what we did.
Is Mack here, too? Had he taken both of us?
“I’m sorry,” I confessed. The words left my mouth before I even realized I had said them.
He narrowed his dark blue eyes at me, they were blank, lifeless, and empty, there was no emotion behind them. However, I did see some remnant of the man I used to know, his eyes flashed with forgiveness and just as fast as it appeared, it disappeared.
I hated him.
For everything.
“Get up,” he commanded, never taking his eyes off mine.
“I can’t,” I replied with sincerity.
He threw a bar of soap on the ground next to me and gestured toward the creek. He was going to allow me to bathe myself, and despite my repulsive appearance and smell, it was the last thing I wanted to do. I grabbed the bar of soap and crawled toward the water. I couldn’t stand up and I knew damn well he wasn’t going to help me. My hands were the first thing that touched the freezing cold water and the farther I crawled, the more dirt came off my body. I attempted to wash myself as best as I could.
He must have sensed I was ready to get out. “Your hair, too. You hurled all over it.”
I shot him a look of hatred and he laughed at me. “I can’t…please…” I shamelessly begged for mercy. He wasn’t going to show me any, but it didn’t stop me from trying.
He stepped forward, closer to me to where his boots were getting wet. “Please? Are you asking me to take pity on you because you’re a fucking drunk? Whose fault is that, Miss Edwards?!” he sneered, screaming at me even though I was only a few feet away.
No one could have prepared me for what happened next. He ran over to me, grabbed my hair at the top of my head, and dunked me head first into the water. He left me under there for several seconds and I thought this was where he was going to kill me. He was going to drown me. Before the last breath escaped my lungs, he brought my head back up. I gasped for air and spit out the water from my mouth, trying not to choke.
“You think just because you apologize it makes everything okay?!” he shouted into the side of my face, and dunked me back under the water before I even realized he let me up.
“Ahhh!” I breathed out when he allowed me to resurface.
“You stupid fucking slut! You stupid cunt! You are nothing but a conniving, dirty, fucking liar! You manipulate everything around you, and the fact that you are trying to do it with me right now–” he yelled and got close to my face “–makes me want to fucking kill you.”
He shoved me back under, but this time, he held me there until I lost the ability to hold my breath. Bubbles of air resurfaced as I fought him with every ounce of willpower and strength I could muster to get him to let me back up, he did, only to dunk me repeatedly.
“Please! I’m so fucking sorry! Please!” I pleaded, trying to catch my breath and voice. He roughly pushed me away with disgust and I fell backward into the water. My foot caught on something and I felt a sharp pain run through my ankle.
“Shut the fuck up and wash your fucking hair, Gianna! Don’t make me come back over there,” he warned.
I found the bar of soap and washed every inch of my body and then my hair, until he told me to stop and get out. It was frigid when I got out of the water. I was still hysterically crying at that point from the confrontation. He threw me a towel and it was barely enough to cover my breasts.
“Walk,” he once again ordered.
It was as if I was having an out of body experience. I watched myself limp through the field, and then through an old, abandoned asylum. I never once stopped crying. We walked into a new room; I knew it because it didn’t have the same stench. There were bars on every window, but at least there was light. A dirty mattress lay in the middle of the room next to a few bottles of water. In the far right corner, there was a bucket and the dreadful realization that it would be my bathroom.
“Get on the bed.” He sensed my apprehension. “Miss Edwards…” he cautioned. I slowly walked toward the mattress and sat on the edge.
“Remove the towel.” I peeked up at him through my lashes to find his eyes still remained dark and callous. I threw the towel at his feet and he smirked at my attempt of being rebellious.
“You still look exactly the same,” he revealed.
“I find that hard to believe,” I knowingly replied.
I saw his Adam’s apple move as he walked over to me, each footstep deliberately calculated and precise. He kneeled down to my level, sitting on the soles of his shoes. He crudely grabbed my chin and he reared my face, settling it to look directly at him.
He smiled. “Spread your legs, Gianna.”
“What?” I asked in confusion.
“You heard me. Don’t act all coy, Miss Edwards. You fuck anything that has a cock. Now. Spread. Your. Fucking. Legs. For. Me,” he drawled, accenting every word. “Be a good a girl,” he mocked in a tone that had me wanting to smack the smug look off his face.
I pulled my lips into my mouth and slowly opened my legs, inch by inch. He still hadn’t looked down when they were fully opened and all of me was exposed.
“Isn’t this what you always wanted, me to look at you? Huh?” He let go of my chin and slapped the side of my face, not hard but enough to let me know he was in charge.
“Huh? Gianna?” He slapped the other side, and he did it over and over again until I finally screamed out yes.
“That’s what I fucking thought.” He pushed me back onto the bed and my head turned to the side. I knew where he was looking now and I didn’t want to witness it.
“Your pussy is still pretty, Gianna. Nice to know that all the men you’ve fucked haven’t ruined it. You always were a little cock slut,” he humiliated, taking away the last of my dignity.
“It’s very pretty, actually. It’s just the right shade of pink.”
I sucked in air from the tears falling down the side of my face.
“Gianna…” he said in a singing tone. “When someone pays you a complement you should say thank you. Where the fuck are your manners? I let you bathe, I gave you water, and now I told you that your cunt is pretty. What do you say?” he taunted. “Huh?” He slapped my pussy and I whimpered.
He did it again and again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I screamed.
“Much better. We are going to have to work on those manners and respect, Miss Edwards,” he scolded. “Now. I have another guest waiting for me.”
I sat straight up. “No!”
“Yes…what kind of host would I be to not include my guests of honor? I’ll tell you something though, I never thought Mack would be the strong one in this scenario. Which is all the more reason to make her scream, don’t you think?”
“Fuck you!” I shouted.
The back of his hand hit me across the face and I fell straight into the mattress. “Don’t be needy, Gianna. You know how much I hate that.” The door closed and the room locked.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, just so that she would know I was there and prayed that she could hear me.
I had no sense of time. I didn’t even know how long he left me in that room alone. It could have been a few hours or a few days, everything was blending together. I wasn’t tied to the bed anymore and I had the liberty to move around, although I couldn’t. Lying in fetal position was the only thing that stopped me from wanting to throw up. The shakes were getting worse and my body felt like it was crumbling from the inside out. My bones hurt, and I would go from sweating to freezing cold. My body couldn’t decide what state it wanted to be in other than miserable. I heard the door unlock, followed by footsteps. I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.
“You haven’t moved at all,” he announced.
“No shit,” I grumbled. The shakiness in my voice was apparent.
He threw something on the bed and I glanced at it from the corner of my eye. I knew that bottle. I quickly tried to turn around to grab it.
“You’re pathetic. I would rather have you drunk than unconscious.”
I nodded, agreeing with him. He was right, there was no use denying it. I sat up and reached for the bottle. My hands were shaking so bad that it made it difficult for me to get the top off. Once I finally managed to get it open, I brought it up to my nose and inhaled the intoxicating smell of cheap ass vodka. I placed it on my lips and gulped as much as I could.
“Ugh…” I yelled, wiping at my mouth with the back of my arm. I took a few more swigs until I had the nerve to look up at him. He looked at me with revulsion and remorse all at the same time.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“What the fuck happened to you? Who are you?” he questioned, never taking his gaze away from my eyes.
“I don’t know anymore. I haven’t known in a really long time.”
He groaned something under his breath, shook his head, and left the room.
I went back to drinking my bottle and before I knew it, half of it was gone. The shakiness and nausea also left. I took my newfound drunken state for a walk around the room. I stumbled a little when I first got off the bed, I couldn’t remember the last time I actually felt drunk. Drinking had become my regimen to not feel like shit, not because I wanted to get inebriated. I laughed at myself when I realized I was naked.
It was entertaining now.
“What have you gotten yourself into now, G?” I sighed and half giggled to myself.
I made my way over to the window, and at first, I thought I was imagining it. Alcohol can do that to you, right? There, before my very own eyes, was McKenzie. I hadn’t seen her in years. Mr. Nichols was walking behind her and I could see her turning around every few seconds to say something. I couldn’t tell if they were having a conversation or if they were arguing. My question was answered when I saw him shove her. I lost my shit. I started banging on the window, screaming at the top of my lungs. She didn’t deserve any of this, although part of me wanted her to suffer. The part that still loved her, the part of me that missed her like crazy, the part of me that was still tied to her by memories and emotions wanted her to be safe.
“Mack! Mack! Mack! Stop it! Mack!” I yelled repeatedly.
It didn’t matter they couldn’t hear me or see me. I was just exhausting myself trying to get their attention. It dawned on me that it had always been like that. Nothing had fucking changed in all this time. The realization was a rude awakening in my drunken state. I went from being concerned to being angry. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel angry in such a long time, I avoided it with liquor, and there I was, drunk as shit and feeling everything. It made my vision blur and I seethed with rage. I should have moved away from the window. I should have gone back and just kept drinking until it all went away; it had always worked before and it would probably work again. I couldn’t get my goddamn legs to move. It was like I was permanently glued to that position. I waited until I saw her again. When she returned, I took in her appearance; her face was the same but older, she was still beautiful.
I was sad when I couldn’t see her anymore. My emotions were all over the place…my brain was hyperaware of everything I was feeling, like it had been deprived for so long that it was now returning full force.
The door slammed, taking me away from my reflections.
“Well, look who decided to get up. You seem like you’re feeling better.”
I turned around, leaning on the windowsill. His eyes wandered from my face all the way down my body. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t felt satisfaction from the look in his eyes.
“Where’s Mack?”
The question caught him off guard and he cocked his head to the side, moving closer to me. He stopped when we were about a foot apart. “What is up with you guys? Do you not talk anymore?”
I laughed. “I haven’t spoken to Mack in a really long time. Why are you hurting her? She didn’t do anything. It was all me. She did it for me.”
It was his turn to laugh. “I find it amusing that she plays the same card that you do. You both are manipulative bitches.”
“We never meant for any of that to happen. It got so out of hand so fast. It took on a life of its own,” I explained, the alcohol making it easy for me to do so.
“And that makes it all right? All is forgiven now? We’re even,” he interrogated with caution in his tone.
“We’re far from even, Mr. Nichols. We’re maybe closer though, an eye for an eye. Is that what this is all about?”
“You’re drunk,” he stated, finally taking in my disheveled appearance.
“And you know what they say about drunks and kids, right? They always tell the truth,” I snapped.
He backhanded me across the face before I even saw it coming, and then grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to the bed face first. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend I was somewhere else. He flipped me over so I was on my back and held me in place by my hair.
“Look at me, you little cunt,” he barked, and tried to open my eyes with his fingers. I rolled my eyes to the back of my head.
“Look at me!”
I didn’t move or make one sound. I knew exactly what he wanted from me and I wouldn’t give him the gratification of ever controlling me again. He aggressively grabbed my wrists and locked them together with his grip above my head. He growled as he positioned himself on top of me, spreading my legs. I felt the roughness of his jeans against my pussy. He started to smack the sides of my breasts and I could feel them reddening with every slap. When that didn’t work, he attacked my nipples, pinching and kneading them.
“Goddamn it!” he shouted.
He unbuckled his pants and made another growling sound. I closed my eyes harder and waited for him to fuck me.
“What the fuck!” he screamed in my face. “Fight back, Gianna. Scream at me, push me, do fucking something.”
“I can’t!” I yelled, opening my eyes to stare at
him.
He violently slapped my pussy a few times; I still hadn’t moved or made a sound. I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to do whatever he wanted to me. When his fingers spread my lips, he swiped his finger back and forth a few times and that’s when he realized I was wet.
“What the fuck!” he screamed, slamming his fist in the mattress by the side of my face. He abruptly got off me and started pacing. I lay there, staring at the ceiling and waited for his next move.
“Nothing is going the way I thought it would. This situation is more fucked up than I had anticipated. What the fuck is wrong with you guys? What happened?” he questioned, to no one in particular, I’m pretty sure he was talking to himself.
“We fucked up. We fucked up everything,” I answered.
He slid down the wall and sat on his ass with his knees close to his chest. He rested his forearms on his knees and bent his head down. I rolled over sideways and laid my head on my arm. He looked up and we stared at each other.
“You look the same, Mr. Nichols…a little older, but still the same.”
He didn’t say anything; he seemed dumbfounded and in shock or something.
“Can I see Mack?”
“Why do you think you’re here, Gianna? Do you think this is a fucking party?”
“You can hurt me. I know you want to,” I simply stated.
He groaned and pulled the hair away from his face like he wanted to tear it out.
“I want you to hurt me,” I said, barely above a whisper.
He shook his head in disappointment, it was the first time I saw real sympathy on his handsome face. “You’re killing yourself. The drinking.”
I shrugged. “I’m already dead, I have been for a very long time.”
He shook his head again, only this time, the anger had returned. “You think I’m fucking stupid, don’t you? You think I don’t know what you’re doing. What you’ve always done. You should have been an actress, Gianna. You missed your calling.”
“What happened that night–”
“Which night?” he interrupted.
“You remember?”
