by Liz Crowe
They’d downright enjoy it.
Unfortunately, I didn’t fully consider how that scenario would play out. I bucked and managed to knee the one pulling on my waistband in the face. He grunted, but I can’t imagine I inflicted as much pain as did his retaliatory blow to my ribs. I sucked in air and rolled, curling around the injury and gasping for each painful breath as the sickening throb exacerbated my confusion.
This couldn’t be happening. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and protect my body, but their hands kept me splayed. Helpless. I jerked, pulled, and squirmed with every bit of strength I had, but a five and a half foot girl against a circle of rabid men was a hopeless battle.
And, with my defense, I had broken the dam on their violence. Seven pairs of hands turned on me, spreading me across the table. Bony hands squeezed my arms and legs, and adrenaline took over my judgment.
I screamed and a hand clamped down over my mouth, half-covering my nose as well. Every time someone moved the wrong way, his hand slid up, cutting off my air completely. I clamped my mouth closed, not letting another sound escape in hopes that he’d get bored of holding my mouth closed.
Where ever I had ended up, all I knew was that I didn’t want to die in some dank concrete room at the hand of a group of ruffians. I’d just started living my life. I made it out of the small town to find a place where I wasn’t constantly answering to someone about every decision I made. At sixteen, I had dyed my hair blue and our minister told me I was going to hell.
Well, I had found it, but I doubted this is what he’d had in mind.
Threats, insults, and random profanity echoed against the cinder block walls of the room and roared in my head propelling my struggle.
One of my shoes slipped off, giving me an opening. As that attacker attempted to readjust his grip, I straightened my leg quickly, hitting him square in the chest. He grunted and took a step back, then slammed my flailing leg against the table. The impact sent a bolt of pain up my body and for a brief moment I stilled, letting the pain radiate through me and then pushing it to the back of my awareness.
I sunk back into my mind, trying to distance myself from the pain. I couldn’t believe it was real. How quickly I had gone from planning to have dinner with my friends to being groped in some dank basement by a group of disgusting bastards.
They must have thought that my pause meant I was giving up, because the one holding my arm loosened his grip and I slipped free again, this time, planting a punch to the nose of another attacker. It took him a second to shake it off, but I was instantly restrained again by yet another. The man I’d punch snarled and ripped open my shirt, then pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped it open.
The room went quiet, and I froze, watching the silver tip of the blade move closer to my sternum.
Then, a single voice rose from the back of the room. “What the hell breed of trouble are you lot causing?”
The knife jerked away, slipping below the edge of the table and out of sight. I twisted my neck to figure out who they’d all stopped to stare at. Another man, dressed in dark jeans and a black tank top stood above us at the top of a metal stairway that connected to a catwalk running along the top of the back wall.
I almost regretted the interruption as it allowed the pain from every injury to rise to the surface and penetrate my body. Each breath became a struggle between managing my need for air against the sharp stab of pain every time my chest expanded. All I wanted to do was close my eyes. It had to be a dream—the most fucked up dream I could ever imagine, but as long as I could wake up, everything would be fine.
Another man appeared on the catwalk, stopping just short of the stairs. He was also wearing black, but unlike the other men, he looked like he was groomed for a formal occasion in his tailored suit.
“The customers will hear the racket,” the man wearing the suit grumbled, straightening his tie.
The racket? I thought. They were holding down a girl in ripped clothes, for goodness’ sake, and he was concerned with the noise. My hope that the two new men were part of some rescue party eroded and turned into a useless lump in my gut.
“As if they aren’t used to it,” Green Eyes replied with a snort of laughter. “Besides, everyone is at least two levels up right now.”
“You never answered Kirk’s question,” Suit said, leaning against the railing in a pose that resembled some kind of power shot you’d see of an executive in a Fortune 500 magazine.
I squeaked as Green Eyes gripped my hair harder. “We need new meat, and conveniently, the butcher dropped this one off.”
Suit shook his head and looked to the man he’d referred to as Kirk. “Take care of this.”
Kirk rolled his neck and started down the stairs. “We didn’t order new meat, and I don’t trust unscheduled deliveries.”
One of the other men leaned against the table, pressing his weight into my wrist, and I gasped, waiting for it to snap. He kept his body casual, as if he had no idea what he was doing, but then he looked down at me and winked. “It’s been months since we’ve had any fun breaking a new girl,” the man leaning on my wrist said. “So, Gabe picked her up.”
Green Eyes scowled across me at the other man, while taking out his frustration on my scalp. I assumed that he was Gabe, and he didn’t appreciate the other man calling him out for the transgression.
My vision clouded, leaving me lightheaded and nauseous. I closed my eyes for a second—not daring to let the monsters out of my sight longer than that.
Everyone except Gabe loosened their holds and stepped away from the table. But the threat of pain hadn’t diminished from their eyes.
Pain sliced through my chest as I tried to inhale, and I silently pleaded for the new man to save me, even though he seemed concerned with everything except my well-being. At least with him in the room, the attack had ceased, but at any moment, he could leave or, even worse, simply join in and I’d stand no chance.
They all watched me, taking in my every flinch. Drinking in my pain and fear.
Kirk stood over the head of the table, leaning against it to look me in the eyes until I dropped my gaze away.
“There’s a reason it has been a while,” Kirk’s words were smooth and calm. “You all are sloppy and when you break the rules, we end up with women that are of no use to us.” He closed his hand around Gabe’s arm, and the hand in my hair jerked, then released. I looked up again, catching another glimpse of Kirk’s blue-grey eyes.
“We can’t release her,” Gabe growled, “so just go back upstairs to your work and let us have our fun.”
Can’t release her? The air caught in my chest, hardened, and refused to move. There was a good chance I wasn’t making it out of this basement. The craziest thing I’d ever done was ride some insane roller coaster at Cedar Point—and now that seemed like no big deal. I’d never been out of the country. Never played with my unborn niece.
Never made amends with my parents and sister since our continued fighting began almost eight months earlier.
“You’re right,” Kirk said, his voice low and calm for someone who had just agreed that I could never be set free. There wasn’t a hint of acknowledgment that he’d just sealed my fate with two simple words. Life would go on for him—business as usual. “Why the hell should you be rewarded for breaking the rules? Remember how things work. You make a mess, I have to clean it up—I’d rather start now than wait for the mess to get bigger.”
“How things work….” Gabe chuckled and looked around at his crew. “Seven against one is how things currently work, or are you counting on two for your side? She is feisty.”
The group of men followed Gabe’s lead, many of them crossing their arms, or raising their hands in preparation of a fight, but before they could make a serious move, Kirk grabbed one by the neck. “You’re right, Gabe, she is feisty. She managed to inflict at least one bloody nose, and I imagine a few other injuries. So what makes you think I’m scared of a crew who can’t even manage to wrangle a singl
e girl?”
The man in Kirk’s grasp, stuttered, “We were…having…fun.”
“Game’s over.” With one shove, Kirk sent the man stumbling backward, “And if you do want to try me, remember that even if you win, I’ll be counting on the boss’ gun to your head afterward. I believe you all are supposed to be working tonight, yet you smell wasted, and you’re down here causing trouble. Either find a productive way to use the rest of your day or I’ll send you to the dregs.”
They all took a step away, watching Gabe for their next move. He shook his head and started toward the stairs until Kirk caught him by the shoulder, “You and I will have a long discussion later, Gabe.”
Gabe shook him off and the men emptied out of the room, leaving me barely covered and laying on a table under Kirk’s gaze. The coldness of the room hit me for the first time, clawing against my sweat-moistened skin, and causing me to shiver.
“Sit up,” Kirk said. His voice was even colder than the air.
I hugged my shirt to my chest as I obeyed, then I quickly angled myself so he was no longer behind me. He was tall and sculpted with hard muscles, but from where I sat, he didn’t look any less scary than the rest of them. His face had a hint of stubble around his chin, but he looked far more groomed than the clods he’d just run off. Tattoos ran down both of his arms, but my attention fell to the tribal snake that wrapped around his right forearm.
“Please,” I whispered without looking up. Despite his agreement with Gabe that I couldn’t be released, I hoped that he would take pity since the other men were gone. Holding on to a hopeless desire was far better than concentrating on the other images that hammered through my brain—all of the other things he could do now that he had me to himself.
He walked around the table without acknowledging the request and picked up my discarded shoe. Then, he slid off my other shoe—tossing both effortlessly into a trash can in the corner.
My heart sank, and I searched his eyes for something I could latch onto, some shred of compassion, a hint of hope. His face didn’t hold the brutality of the others’, but it had its own carved sternness. The anger burning inside of him was almost palpable, and now that the direct cause of that anger was gone, I was left to fill in.
He took me by the arm. “You can walk?”
I wasn’t sure it was a question, but I nodded, and he guided me off the table without loosening his iron grip on my arm. When we reached the stairs, I noticed the others hadn’t fully dispersed; a few loitered on the end of the catwalk near a side entrance. But with one look from Kirk, they scowled and disappeared into the next room.
If he could scare off the lot of them, I wasn’t sure that meant I was in better hands. Although he hadn’t assaulted me… yet.
My legs shook as we climbed the iron stairs, and Kirk pulling at my arm faster than I could move didn’t help. As the adrenaline wore off, my extremities felt heavier and heavier, so each step took its toll on my waning strength. I grabbed the railing to keep my balance and help pull myself up.
At the top of the stairs, Kirk jerked me in the opposite direction of the door the men had used. I heard voices, and soon, we were walking through what looked like the lobby of a five-star hotel. There were a few people sitting in corners chatting while drinking coffee, but even though my clothes were ripped and barely hanging on, none of them gave me more than a passing glance—if they even looked up to acknowledge our presence in the first place.
My mind raced too fast for me to keep up, apparently trying to make up for the time it has lost while I was unconscious. Where were we? Why was everyone okay with this?
At one point, I even wondered if we were still in the real world.
Kirk shoved me into an elevator and pressed a button for the tenth floor. The building was huge, and no matter where we were, it couldn’t have been inconspicuous. The place could easily accommodate a couple hundred people, so I reasoned that there had to be people coming and going all of the time. How could it not stand out? Especially with that motley crew who drastically clashed with the lush business the decor reflected.
My head ached and I slumped against the wall, rubbing my temple. Between the pain and swelling in my body and the fog threatening to reclaim my mind, each breath and thought became more and more of a struggle.
“Do you remember what happened?” Kirk asked, keeping his voice low—almost calmingly low. A misleading façade to hide whatever beast he locked inside.
I shook my head, unwilling to give into his mock concern.
The elevator halted and my stomach slammed into the lungs, adding to my nausea. I feared I’d lose its contents for a moment, but I managed to swallow as Kirk dragged me out of the elevator and down a hall.
“What is this place?”
“Quiet,” he hissed, wrenching my arm.
“Please, just—”
He hauled me around to face him, lifting me by my upper arms. “Not listening is a good way to get yourself killed here, which is exactly what would have happened if I hadn’t come downstairs to see what trouble our resident dipshits had dragged in. You have yet to be ripped to pieces or to be removed of your ability to speak. If you want to keep it that way, I suggest that you learn to obey simple commands. Shut up.”
I clenched my jaw. I didn’t want to admit the truth in what he said, but with every breath I took, my ribs sent a sharp reminder of what could happen. Regardless of that warning, my brain didn’t stop screaming. All I wanted to do was go home, where neither of us would have to worry about my body parts being ripped off. But, I nodded, and he pulled me forward so quickly I tripped over my own feet and wouldn’t have stayed upright if not for his grasp.
He pushed open a door and shoved me into a large office where the same man in the suit who’d left Kirk in charge downstairs reclined in an oversized black leather seat behind an enormous cherry desk. Behind him, a window looked out over trees and rolling hills.
What happened to the city?
Suit jerked forward and I noticed the top of a head, covered in deep red hair. I gasped and pulled back from Kirk, but he seemed unfazed.
“Don’t tell me you decided to keep their toy.” Suit pushed the girl away with his foot then stood and fastened his pants. I turned away as the scantily clad girl crawled across the floor and sat next to the desk.
How much did I have to drink? I wondered. And where the fuck was I drinking? I barely remembered leaving the house, let alone ending up anywhere I’d get so shit-faced that I couldn’t remember the last several hours—at least. I had no idea how much time I’d lost, but it was obviously enough to get abducted and dragged out to who-knows-where.
Kirk shoved me a few steps further. “Faulted though their tactics may be, she might be a nice addition.”
Suit pressed his lips together and folded his arms. He looked less than impressed and far from convinced. “She looked like a handful. She certainly managed to keep Gabe’s crew busy long enough for you to intervene. Seems like the kind that’s easier to break than bend, which makes her no use to us.”
Suit moved toward us. I had the insuppressible urge to back away as he approached, but Kirk’s solid grasp made that impossible. Everything about him read power, from his smooth linen suit to the posh office. And unfortunately for me, it was dirty power. I figured on one level I should be appreciative of that power, since it was that power that had saved me thus far—that and Kirk’s undeterrable attitude. But on the other hand, I had a feeling that, like the girl knelt next to his desk, I was about to become a cog in whatever business provided him with the expensive clothes and furniture.
“We all need a challenge from time to time,” Kirk said as he released my arm and stepped away, leaving me feeling even more vulnerable. I wanted to curl up into a protective ball and hope that neither of them felt like smashing it to pieces.
“So, is a challenge what you’re interested in? I was beginning to think nothing could get you riled.” Suit looked me over, walking in a small circle and touching exposed
flesh as he passed. I felt my skin crawl everywhere he touched, and I couldn’t help but cringe. His hand reached for my hair, and I had to strain to keep from smacking it away or jerking my head back.
Then, the words slipped from his mouth that made my chest want to collapse and fold into itself.
“Take off your clothes.”
I stood there blinking at him. Hoping that somehow my muddled brain had misinterpreted what he’d said. As if it hadn’t been bad enough when they were ripping my clothing off, now they expected me to willfully strip without an objection.
With a single swift motion, Suit grabbed me by the throat and lifted me to my toes. “She has skewed sense of self-preservation.”
I struggled for air as he leaned his face closer to mine. “Is your modesty worth death?”
He released me and I stumbled back, panting for air. He simply pointed at my shirt and held his hand out.
I slid the ripped shirt off of my shoulders and threw it at his feet. He smirked, but it wasn’t amusement that I saw in his eyes. Lifting an eyebrow he waved at the rest of my clothes.
I took a breath, closed my eyes and—as slow as I dared to move—I dropped my jeans, underwear, socks, and bra to the floor. I straightened but didn’t dare meet his gaze. Being naked in itself didn’t really bother me. I knew I didn’t have a cheerleader body, but I was comfortable with it. Seeing a naked woman’s body was nothing to them either. Kirk hadn’t even reacted to walking in on his boss getting a blow job.
The problem was in the men’s sneering gazes that reduced me to nothing more than an object to be ogled, and the vulnerability of standing in front of them with nothing to protect me from their grimy desires.
To my surprise, Suit didn’t touch me again, just stared at me for a few long minutes while pacing back and forth and rubbing his hand over his chin. “Her chest is a little small, but she’s not bad to look at. If you want to keep her, she’s yours to train. But, she better be worth it. And I’m not giving you forever to accomplish that.”
Yours? My heart thudded. She’s yours. Somewhere along the line, I’d not only lost my freedom, but also my human identity. Maybe death was better—but the fear of that finality overpowered my sensibilities.
