Being Zolt

by D. L. Raver

  Zolt’s handsome face flashed in my mind and I closed my eyes. He was my reason for letting Marcus take control of me—him and Kenna. I pushed the thought of her out of my mind. Thinking back now, he had taken it easy on me when he took my virginity. Kenna wouldn’t be afforded the same. He’d sell her body as if she were a slab of beef. My heart broke for her.

  My heart broke for me.

  The sound of crowd noise filled the room, and I pushed myself to my feet. After rinsing my mouth, I went into the bedroom to see what new torture Marcus had arranged.

  On the large TV on the wall, footage from Zolt’s injury played on a loop. The crushing sound of a dirty hit—the bounty against Zolt bankrolled by Marcus—echoed off the walls. I covered my ears with my hands and squeezed my eyes closed. Marcus knew how to drive his point home, and how to put me in my place, making sure I conformed to his expectations.

  I lay curled up on the floor with my arms over my head, trying to muffle the noise of the TV. The tears I held back finally broke loose. I wanted to be strong enough to survive this, but I didn’t know if I was, and this time, Marcus might succeed in breaking me.

  I cried myself out, letting myself give in to the fear, grief, and despair that filled me. Then, I stopped, determined to find my strength. Staying vigilant and praying that somehow Zolt saw through my lies were my only options. When this was over, I needed to be able to return to him and beg for forgiveness. If Marcus broke me, I couldn’t do that. Whatever he threw at me, I decided to survive it. I kept in the forefront of my mind an image of Zolt and me together. Hopefully, Kenna had something similar to help her survive too.

  Some indeterminate time later, the door unlocked and opened, and I heard it shut and lock again. Quickly I sat up expecting Marcus. To my surprise, a beautiful girl wearing a gray pencil skirt and white button-up blouse came in, carrying a tray of food. She was striking with ebony hair and piercing blue eyes. The color almost didn’t appear real. If not for the scar that ran the length of her jawline, she would be stunning.

  “Hi,” I said and straightened my dress. “My name is Irelyn.”

  “Hi,” she returned and set the tray on the table, not making eye contact with me.

  “Thanks for bringing me food.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll be back in an hour. Marcus requests that you eat everything on the tray.”

  She turned and walked to the door, unlocked it, then left, locking it behind her.

  I sighed. The woman—who wasn’t much older than me—hadn’t been friendly. Any ideas of befriending her were dashed. Certainly, Marcus told her not to talk to me, and undoubtedly, cameras monitored the room.

  For now, the footage of Zolt’s injury had turned off, but it would come on again, probably intermittently. Marcus did his best to mind-fuck me. I made up my mind to desensitize myself to anything that Marcus used to torture me. If I didn’t, I’d go crazy.

  I went to the tray and frowned. Marcus sent all the foods I hated: pizza with anchovies and some kind of tarragon chicken dish. I stared at the food and fought the urge to scream. However, I could, I had to force this down and keep it there. I wouldn’t give Marcus a reason to punish me.

  The following hours dragged on in much the same fashion. Since there were no windows, I couldn’t tell what time of day it was. So I took to counting to sixty by one thousand, using my fingers to keep track. After a while, I grew tired of the exercise, finding it fruitless. The lack of sleep left me skirting the edge of delirium. I played mental games with myself in an effort to remain sane, counting the cracks in the concrete, not stopping until I came up with the same number twice.

  Once a day, the ebony-haired woman brought in a tray of my most hated foods; everything from liver and onions, fried eggs with runny whites, and some kind of Mexican dish with tripe in it. Each time, I choked it down while I leaned against the wall, sitting on the floor. With no clock, I decided to keep time by the appearance of each tray. So far three had been delivered.

  The footage of Zolt appeared at unpredictable times as I suspected it would. I had to give it to Marcus; he was a master of the mind-fuck. The lights in the room never turned off, and sometimes I swear they got brighter. Even taking a shower was hit and miss as the water either scalded or froze my ass off. If that weren’t bad enough, it changed at a moment’s notice. Marcus didn’t provide any toiletries: no shampoo, conditioner, or body soap—not even a toothbrush or toothpaste. The only luxury was the toilet paper, and God only knew if I would get more when it ran out.

  Regardless, I refused to succumb. When it started to be too much, I closed my eyes and replayed the times Zolt and I had been together, torturing myself in an entirely different way.

  Several times during the hours, I heard a woman cry out in pain. Though I wasn’t sure, deep inside, I knew it was Kenna, and whatever awful things she experienced were for my benefit. Kenna was yet another device in his plan, another way to break me. But only harming Zolt, or worse, killing him would ever break me.

  That Marcus hadn’t shown his ugly face once didn’t surprise me. He was trying to knock me off-balance, keeping me on the edge, wondering when and if he’d come. Eventually, he would, and I’ll admit I was scared shitless of what he’d do to me when he did. Either way, I’d take whatever he doled out even if it meant having sex with him.

  One of the worst things was the lack of clean clothing, causing me to wear only my panties and bra, leaving my dress for the times when I rinsed my undergarments out.

  My life now consisted of a window-less room, surrounded by images designed to remind me of Marcus’s viciousness and what he’d already taken from me. So I played the waiting game, torturing myself with memories of Zolt.

  The door opened and the same woman came in carrying another tray. On her way past me, she dropped a note into my lap. Her blue eyes darted to the corner, which I figured indicated the location of the camera.

  She walked back to the door and turned to me. “Marcus wanted me to tell you tomorrow is Friday. You will accompany him to the AZ Cardinals Charity Event. I will return to help you get ready.”

  She unlocked the door and left. As soon as the door locked again, I stared at the note resting between my crossed legs, hidden from view. I needed to figure out a place to read it where I wouldn’t be seen since I didn’t want her to get in trouble because of me.

  Taking a chance, I walked to the far corner of the room, hoping whoever set up the cameras wouldn’t find it necessary to train one on that particular direction. Carefully, I unfolded the small scrap of paper.

  Hi,Irelyn,

  You don’t know me, but my name is Delaney Carmichael. I’m Marcus’s stepsister. I’m sorry Marcus has done this to you and Kenna. I’m sure you’ve probably heard the cries. If you wondered if they came from Kenna, you’d be right. I’ve tended to her as much as he lets me. I tend for them all the best I can. So far, she’s okay.

  You have no reason to want to help me, but if you ever find yourself free of Marcus, please don’t forget about me.

  Thank you,

  Delaney

  “Fuck,” I said to the empty room before placing the paper in my mouth. While I moved from the corner, I chewed the paper, then went to the bathroom and turned on the tap. Cupping water with my hands, I took a drink, making it easier to swallow. I couldn’t chance Marcus finding the note.

  My heart sank as I thought about the screams I’d heard. At least Delaney tried to help Kenna, and I thanked God for her kindness toward my friend. I wondered how Marcus had trapped Delaney and if the scar on her neck was due to his handiwork?

  Somehow, I needed to figure out a way to save them both. In the pit of my stomach, I suspected tomorrow night might be my only chance, assuming I could get away from Marcus long enough to say two words to Rachel.

  The next day—at least, I thought it was the next day—the door unlocked. I’d expected it to be Delaney coming in with the daily tray or to prepare me for the event. When Marcus stepped into the room, my heart drop
ped and terror shot through my brain.

  “It’s time, Irelyn.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.

  “For what?” I asked with a shaky voice. His relaxed demeanor and dress—I’d never seen him in track pants and a T-shirt before—terrified me. If he felt the need to be comfortable, then I needed to brace myself for the worst.

  “Time to cleanse your mind and body of Zolt Hamil. Time to remind you of the manners you seemed to have forgotten. And time to reinforce good behavior for tonight’s event, no matter what happens.” His voice came out cold and emotionless and my spine stiffened with fear.

  “I’ll behave, Marcus. I swear.”

  “Your word means nothing to me, Irelyn when you’ve already proven you can’t be trusted. I would be disappointed with myself if I believed you. Cheaters can’t be trusted, and they can’t go unpunished.”

  Oh, fuck! I knew I was in for it. Given Kenna’s screams, I assumed he would punish me physically though he’d make sure the marks stayed hidden. Visible bruises were too hard to explain away—mental ones were much easier to hide. He already needed to cover the dark circles under my eyes and my pale complexion.

  I followed Marcus into a dark room. When he turned on the lights, I almost fainted. The room was small and mostly empty except for the St. Andrews’ cross on the far wall and the rack of different floggers, whips, and canes.

  Oh. My. Fucking. God!

  “That’s right, Irelyn. I wish I didn’t have to resort to this extreme, but you’ve left me with no choice. As a reward for your good behavior tonight, I’ll allow you to drop to your knees and suck my cock when we return.”

  I wanted to laugh—turn to him and laugh in his face. But nothing about this was funny; it was terrifying. Even so, I clung to the idea Marcus wouldn’t beat me bad enough to disable me. The man mastered everything he did, including beating women. He’d know how far to go, so that every time I moved or breathed, I’d remember my punishment.

  “Take off your panties and bra and then stand facing the cross. Put your wrists and ankles in the restraints. Quickly!” he demanded.

  I forced myself to do as he bid though my legs had turned to jelly with fear. Marcus’s footstep sounded behind me. Once he fastened my restraints, he walked away; I assumed to select his implement of choice.

  “You really do have a beautiful body, and I’m torn about how much to punish you. If we had time, I’d beat the shit out of you for making a fool out of me. Luckily for you, I need you to accompany me tonight. I also need you to make a good show of it.”

  A whoosh of air moved my hair and a loud snap sounded just above my head. I jumped and almost peed myself.

  “But,” Marcus said as he trailed what I figured was a flogger of some type down my back. “That doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind in the coming days. However, I do think fucking Zolt Hamil out of you will be the best course of action. Since we have limited time that, too, will have to wait.”

  Marcus stepped back from me, and I heard the flogger whoosh through the air a couple of times.

  I held my breath and waited for the first blow to land, commanding myself not to cry out. It didn’t work. I hissed out in pain each time the flogger landed.

  “This is for making a fool of me!”

  Whoosh. Slap.

  “This is for defying me.”

  Whoosh. Slap.

  Over and over, the flogger cut through the air, coming down on the small of my back just above my ass with a loud clap!

  “This one is for fucking Zolt Hamil!”

  “This is forgetting that you are mine!”

  I hissed out with every lash of the flogger as Marcus recounted my crimes against him. After five lashes, I lost count and let myself float away into a merciful darkness.

  “Quit fidgeting with your tie, Zolt. You’re very handsome,” Rachel admonished as we rode in a limo to the stadium.

  I placed my hands under my legs, but too many thoughts and ideas whizzed through my head, and my nervous energy had me on the edge. Giving up, I pulled out my hands and shook them out.

  Sleep had eluded me since Irelyn left. My bed still smelled like her—I loved and hated that. But it was the return of my nightmares that were the killer. They were no longer centered on my football injury. Instead, they’d morphed into tortured images of Marcus with Irelyn and him doing things to her that she hated.The thought that she might have been forced to have sex with him made me want to hit something.

  “Sorry,” I said and forced a smile to my face, telling myself to stay focused, but my lack of sleep dimmed my mind. Still, I needed to keep the chains moving down the field just as I did when I played football; to capitalize on our only chance to get Irelyn away from him. If we failed tonight, we failed permanently. “Everything is ready?”

  “Yep. Dad will call Marcus to the stage and present him with a long-winded speech thanking him for his generosity. Fucking bastard,” Cory spat.

  I felt for Peter, Cory’s dad. Turning over his daughter’s safe return to T-bone had to be difficult. But simply put, he had resources the authorities didn’t or couldn’t have, and he could operate without interference by bureaucracy. And Sloan was a man on a mission. With Jackson Wyatt on in the inside and Sloan on the outside, it was a matter of time before we brought Marcus down.

  “While Dad makes his speech, some friends and I, along with T-bone’s men, will stand in front of Irelyn, allowing you to take her off the dance floor. Then, we will run interference for you while you and Irelyn get in the limo,” Cory said.

  “Not you, Cory. You stay with Rachel the entire time. Don’t leave her alone for a moment, even if it means going to the ladies’ with her.”

  Cory nodded and kissed Rachel. “Not for a minute.”

  “The crazy irony of it all is the AZ Cardinals’ charity is dedicated to women’s causes. It kills me we have to thank him,” Rachel said, her face twisting with disgust.

  “Agreed.” I turned to Cory and gave him a sad smile. “I know this is hard for you and your family given the situation with Kenna. What I’d like to do is beat the living shit out of Marcus and make him tell us where she is.”

  “T-bone said his man on the inside will find the place tonight for sure. Maybe we’ll be lucky and get them both back.” Cory held up his hand and crossed his fingers.

  “Here’s hoping,” I said, praying to God for divine assistance. We all knew, though kept it to ourselves, that if we were only successful with Irelyn and not both, Kenna would pay the price. The one thing we had going for us was that Marcus still planned on auctioning Kenna to the highest bidder. With that in mind, I had to believe he’d keep her in one piece.

  Just in case, I crossed my fingers, too.

  The limo pulled to a stop and I inhaled deeply, holding it before blowing it out. In any other time and in any other situation, I’d be freaking out a little about being back at the stadium. I hadn’t been here since the last season I played. But I didn’t have the luxury to have a history-based anxiety attack.

  The gala had been under way for over an hour. Dinner had already been served and dancing would begin just before the charity auction began. This was the perfect break for Cory’s father to call Marcus to the stage.

  Now was our chance.

  We walked in separately. Cory and Rachel made their way to the stage to where both of their parents waited. I limped to the back of the dance floor and searched the crowd. Several people pointed at me, and I heard my name being whispered.

  I ignored them all.

  Within minutes, I found Irelyn standing next to him. Even though she faced forward, I knew it was her. The memory of her naked back was burned into my gray matter. I had kissed every inch of it before, during, and after sex, and I would recognize her body anywhere. Just the sight of it made my heart skip a beat. But something about the way she stood that struck me as odd. Her stance seemed unnatural and uncomfortable. Her shoulders were hunched in, and she kept her head down. Gone was my Irelyn that always carried
herself with absolute confidence. My sixth sense kicked in telling me something was terribly wrong.

  Peter Campbell took center stage, calling everyone to attention. Then, he asked Marcus to join him.

  Marcus glanced around and frowned before plastering a fake smile to his face. He leaned over and grabbed Irelyn by her shoulders, pulling her close where he whispered something in her ear.

  I watched her stiffen and then mouth “yes”. As soon as he moved through the crowd to the stage where Peter waited for him, I saw her visibly relax.

  My insides quaked with nerves. And just like the old days, I shook out my hands and my nervous energy. I locked onto my target and made my way toward Irelyn.

  Just as we’d planned, several men surrounded her, blocking Marcus’s view.

  “Irelyn,” I said and placed my hand on her shoulder.

  She spun around and gaped at me, wincing as if in pain. “Zolt? What are you doing here?”

  “Saving you.” I grabbed her by the hand and started to pull her through the crowd.

  “No, Zolt. You can’t,” she said, halting our forward progress. “That is, I’m fine. Just leave. Please.”

  “Quit lying to me, Irelyn,” I growled, nervously glancing to the front where Peter Campbell droned on about Marcus, talking until Cory gave him the signal.

  I could see Marcus scan the crowd. Though he still wore his fake smile, his narrowed eyes suggested that not seeing Irelyn pissed him off.

  “You don’t understand, Zolt. I’m wearing red. Kenna’s wearing red. You’re wearing red, too,” she said, her voice breaking with the last three words.

  “I do understand. We know you lied, and we know about Kenna. T-bone is on it. Come on, we don’t have time to dick around.” When I placed my hand on her lower back to guide her forward, she cried out in pain. “What the fuck?”

  Irelyn stared up at me, her eyes wide and pupils dilated with pain and fear as they filled with tears.