by Renee Dyer
I should be used to waking up in this fog by now, but each time, I worry something worse has happened while I was out. This time, I was right to worry.
Cammie is still chained to the wall, but she’s completely naked and all I see in her eyes is fear.
“Please tell me he didn’t touch you,” I ask, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears.
“I don’t think so,” she replies.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I don’t care that I growl the words out.
“He drugged me and I woke up like this,” she cries out. “I don’t feel like anything was done to me, but…oh God, we’re never getting out of here, are we?”
“Shh, we’ll figure it out.”
The rest of our night goes by without any visits from Davyd, but Emma brings us food. We continue only eating a few bites and drinking a few sips. Emma leaves pissed off once again and I feel a modicum of joy at her irritation.
Cammie wants to talk, make sure I’m alright, but I don’t have it in me to discuss what happened. Knowing she saw that makes me feel like less of a man and even less worthy of her.
“Try to sleep, buttercup. We have no idea what tomorrow will bring.”
Chapter Forty Two
Grant
I wake to Davyd standing inches in front of me. His chest and feet are bare and he’s wearing that smirk I fucking hate.
“You have a choice to make today, lover. You or her?”
“What?” I know he can’t mean… not my buttercup.
“Oh, you heard me. If you plan to keep fighting me, then buttercup will join me on the bed.”
“No.”
“Then, you choose yourself?”
I nod and let my chin fall to my chest in defeat. I would do anything to keep him from touching her.
“That’s what I thought, lover.” I feel a pinch at my neck and know the darkness is coming.
When I come to, I’m chained to the bed and the sound of Cammie sobbing echoes throughout the room. It pulls at my heart.
“Please don’t cry,” I beg
“You made the wrong choice,” she whimpers.
She can’t mean that. She doesn’t know what it feels like to…I’ll never let her know.
“I will never let him touch you and you can’t ask me to.”
“Grant…”
The door opens and the man who has made me realize I’m capable of murder, that I’d even enjoy it, walks into the room. He’s smiling like we’re old friends, ready to sit down to a game of cards. In his hand is an iron poker and the end is bright red. I start to squirm, knowing he is going to hurt Cammie or me.
Please let it be me. I can handle it.
He stops in front of Cammie and I start to struggle against my restraints, screaming that he’s a bastard. Quickly, he turns on me, disgust burning in his eyes. He takes two steps toward me and lunges the poker down on my ass.
I howl in agony as I smell my flesh burning. I can hear Cammie shrieking over my shouts of pain. I try to force back the tears, but they leak out the corner of my eyes. Son of a bitch. I can’t believe he just branded me.
He throws the poker to the floor and starts to undress. No, not now. My skin is still burning and Cammie is crying.
“I told you I’d break you.”
“Fuck you!”
“I guess you want me to fuck her then.”
“NO!”
“Then you’d be wise to shut the fuck up.”
He climbs over me and shoves his way in. This time, I keep eye contact with Cammie. I need to comfort her and show her I can handle whatever Davyd dishes out, no matter how much it hurts. Her tears pour down her face and I try to send her my strength. In the midst of the intrusion on my body, I still manage to smile at Cammie. She hiccups back her tears and I see her physically pull herself together. Determination enters her eyes and she fights to pull her shoulders back against the wall and her head high, despite the torture unfolding in front of her.
Davyd’s grunts come to an end and he collapses onto my back. His weight is heavy and his breath is hot against my neck. I lay still, hoping he’ll leave soon.
“Now, you’ve earned my story.”
He makes no attempt to remove himself from me. I guess this makes me a captive audience.
“I was once a nobody. Actually, I was less than a nobody. Even my name was forgettable.”
His name? What the fuck is he talking about?
“I was born into this world as John Smith. I know, how fucking mundane, right?”
I can tell he’s not looking for an answer.
“My parents were extremely poor and we lived in a trailer. Not just any trailer, but the most run down, piece of shit, falling apart, a-cardboard-box-may-have-been-an-upgrade, trailer. We were the laughing stock of the town. My parents were not intelligent people, but somehow they gave birth to me. I tested off every chart. I was called exceptional and gifted and those fuckers had no idea what to do with me. I was beat up and harassed constantly for being the poor kid with the dirty clothes. I hated my life.”
If this ass wipe is trying to make me feel bad for him, it isn’t working. Especially, since he has me chained to a bed and I can still feel him inside me.
“By the age of ten, I equaled them in intelligence. They could no longer do anything for me. My school didn’t have a program for gifted students. I was floundering to find myself. I immersed myself in books from the library about every state in our country, soaking in all the information I could. At age twelve, I ran away. I knew I was smart enough to live on my own.”
“But you were just a boy,” Cammie says, her voice so sad.
“I may have been, but I did okay. I learned quickly that every big city had places where you could sell yourself and make good money doing it. I also learned there were many motels that didn’t care how old you were as long as you paid cash, so I didn’t always sleep on the streets. I made my way to L.A. and got in with the kids who were being sold to high-end customers. I was living the high life until I got called into the boss’ office. I thought he figured out I was skimming off the wallets of our clients. It was only a little money here and there. They carried so much around, I didn’t think anyone noticed and I didn’t do it every time, I had a system. I didn’t want to sell my body forever so I was saving up to get out of the life.”
He goes quiet and all I can hear is his breathing.
“Turns out, the boss did know I was skimming because he had the rooms we used wired with cameras, but he wasn’t angry with me. He was impressed that a fourteen-year-old could rip off high-end officials, and they never noticed. I became Fernando Casillas’ new toy. He moved me into his mansion and stopped selling me off. He was fascinated by my mind and how quickly I could learn. He taught me about business and technology. The problem with Fernando Casillas was that he was a recluse. He had henchmen who handled every piece of business that had to be done outside of his home and he preferred they not enter his house unless it was necessary.”
“What made you so fucking special?” I couldn’t help myself. I was hoping he’d get angry enough to get off me.
“Fernando wanted a child and in his mind, I was the prodigy he had been waiting for. His money and connections allowed him to have papers drawn up to make it look like I was his son brought over from Colombia. Coming from parents of mixed ethnicity didn’t hurt either. I could easily pass for his child. It was then I learned I liked to tell stories. I made up a grand tale of why I ran away from home. Fernando believed my parents were sexually abusing me and that I came from a ritzy area. I knew I ran the risk of him finding out the truth. If he ever did, he never told me. He did ask me once if I wanted him to kill them and I told him no. I thought it was because, deep down, I still cared for them, but later on, I realized I had plans for them.”
“P-plans?” Cammie stammers. I can hear her voice shake.
“Yes, plans. You see, I could never fully be Fernando Casillas Junior if there was still a John Smith out there. I needed
my parents to help me kill off the person I was.”
It’s then that I know I’m lying beneath a complete psychopath.
“Fernando and I talked many times about how to make ourselves disappear and starting over during the next few years of my life. He taught me to always have a contingency plan. But as I grew and matured, he started to become lost in his mind. He was convinced people were watching him, trying to take his money and me. It grew increasingly difficult for him to run any part of his business because he wouldn’t allow anyone in the house, so I took over almost everything. He only handled the money when I handed it off to him. I started turning the business into my own underneath his nose. Fernando didn’t know it, but he unwillingly made himself my contingency plan. He got to the point where he became catatonic, his paranoia taking complete control, which gave me the chance to see whether I was capable of taking a life. Well, not really taking a life, but watching one slip away. He just sat there. He wouldn’t respond to anything. I tried to get him to eat and drink at first, but there was no response. I knew this was my chance to hold someone else’s life in my hands and I chose to let it slip through.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask. “He took you in.”
“He served his purpose,” Davyd says, no emotion in his voice.
“I watched him fade away before me and it made me understand I was meant to do bigger things. I then started plotting how the next people would die at my hands. It took two years of planning, but it was glorious to watch my trailer trash parents burn. Thanks to their poor asses, John Smith died that night, too. DNA is a wonderful thing. The letter I wrote and had delivered to the police station didn’t hurt either. Everyone believed I ran away because my parents abused me and that I came back to take all our lives for that reason. They were a stain on that town for so many years, the police were happy to have an easy answer. They closed the case without ever really looking into it.”
“You sick fuck!” I start fighting, trying to get out from underneath him. “Get off me, you fucking bastard!”
“Shh, you haven’t heard the best parts of my story.” He starts to pat my hair, like he’s comforting me.
“With my parents and Fernando gone, it was time to reinvent myself again. I had the financial means to do whatever I wanted, but I liked living in L.A. and I loved having all these teenagers and reformed runaways at my disposal. One in particular made life easy for me. Damien Stanton was a loner. He started living on the streets when his parents died. He had no family to take him in, no one looking for him. I decided to treat him as Fernando treated me, but it was only so I could learn everything about him and take over his life. A year later, I strangled him with my bare hands and buried him on my property.”
Cammie is crying again and I fear she has lost all hope of getting out of here. I’m starting to lose hope the longer he talks.
“Becoming Damien made me a U.S. citizen again and where he was twenty, I was able to legally change his name. There was only one problem with becoming Damien—our facial features. Plastic surgery took care of that. That’s when I became Davyd Viktry. Do you know why I chose Viktry? I bet you can figure it out. You’re a smart man.”
I lay in silence as he kisses up my neck. My skin crawls at the contact.
“You really used to be more fun. It’s for victory. I knew I would be victorious over everyone in my life. No one can outsmart me. You surely can’t. But, back to my story. Davyd was born and thanks to my money and connections, I had an entire background that would hold up against any background check. I could have it altered any time I wanted and I did whenever it suited me. Do you want to know my favorite part of the story?”
I can feel him growing hard inside of me and I start to thrash as much as I can within my restraints.
“Fight all you want, lover. It only makes my cock harder.”
I still at his words and he starts to move inside of me.
“Benny is one of my boys.”
“What!” I shout, completely taken off guard.
“Oh, yes. I killed the former man in his position after I first met you. It took much planning, burning down a building I owned with my tenants in it. I didn’t really need to do it to prove Benny worked for me, but it made him desperate for a job. It made me hard hearing the people inside scream while they burned, all the while knowing I’d be getting closer to you. I jerked off while they died. Your building’s management wanted to hire for your building quickly and I played Benny up to be exemplary. He was the perfect fit. It took a lot of training to get that deviant ready, but he hasn’t failed me. He will be greatly rewarded.”
Rewarded? That word makes me think of his wife and how pissed she gets when we won’t eat.
“How does Emma play into this?” I grit out.
“Ah, sweet Emma. She’s another street tramp. I told her she could stop selling herself if she wanted to play my wife. What a fun one she was to train. I started when she was fifteen. It’s so much easier to break them when they’re young.”
I don’t want to hear anymore. This maniac is a serial child molester and killer. I don’t know how the hell I’m ever getting Cammie and I out of here.
Chapter Forty Three
Grant
I don’t know whether it’s day five or six of being here. Davyd’s big reveal gave me the knowledge that we’re in a survival shelter underground. Now I understand why there are no windows in our room. I thought we might just be in a basement, but this is so much worse. Damn Fernando and his paranoia. The small amounts of food and drink I’ve been consuming are catching up to me, too, but I’m still afraid to take more than I have. I wouldn’t put it past Davyd to be drugging everything. Cammie is getting weaker, too. I see how hard it is for her to have conversations and keep her head lifted. She nods off during the day. We’re dehydrated. I know that’s the problem. I’m not sure how long it takes before a body becomes malnourished.
I need to figure something out soon or we’re going to die.
Davyd has kept up his daily violations of my body, sometimes several times, but as long as I allow him to brutalize me, he leaves Cammie alone. I’ve stopped staring into Cammie’s face as the intrusion happens. I can’t see how broken she’s become, or maybe I’m afraid she’ll see how broken I am. I swore he wouldn’t break me, but he’s done just that. How many times can you allow the woman you love to see you attacked in front of her before you become an empty shell of the person you once were?
She’s been chained naked to a wall for days while I’ve lived in constant worry over what Davyd will do to her. I haven’t been able to help her. Nothing I can say changes our situation. We weaken every moment. He’s toying with us.
When I was first taken, I hoped I would save her. I was full of anger. I thought I was smarter than him.
I was wrong.
My hope is gone.
The door creaks open and the monster who haunts my waking and sleeping moments, walks in. I hang my head on my chest, not even able to eye him down anymore. I’m chained before him, a completely defeated man.
“Finally, you submit, lover. Now, you’ll be rewarded.”
I don’t understand what his words mean. He walks from the room and comes back a few minutes later with two masked men. Fear fills me as they come at me. I want to fight, but I’m so weak. They start to unchain me and all I can do is fall into them. They carry me to the bed and I hear Davyd tell them to lay me on my back and leave one arm unchained. There is some talk back and forth and he assures them I am not a problem. They lay a chain across my chest and it feels so heavy, but like Davyd demanded, I have one arm able to fully move.
This is the first time I realize how small the bed is. My feet hang off the end and my body takes up most of it. It’s not much bigger than a cot. I’ve stared at this bed for days and in my mind, it was mammoth. Maybe it was because of the drugs, or maybe my fear. I start to wonder how many children he abused on this small bed and I feel sick. Being at the mercy of a madman is the worst
place to be.
I tell myself that if I, by some miracle, get out of this, I’m having my tattoo changed. Mercy is not for the weak. It takes great compassion. Only pussies and bullies show no mercy. I see that now.
He always keeps the room so warm. I’ve wondered several times if that’s to make us sleepy. Are we more apt to be manipulated if we’re tired? My brain is a confused web of thoughts and I can’t grasp onto a single one as I lay here, waiting for the torture to begin. I keep telling myself to focus, but I’m so tired. I really want to sleep. It’s much more comfortable on this bed. I don’t care that it’s too small for my tall frame.
“Ready for your reward, lover?”
I peer up at him and he has a bucket of water and a sponge. What the fuck? Then, it dawns on me. Davyd always needed me clean. I haven’t had a shower since I’ve been here. He’s brushed Cammie and my teeth, but that’s been the extent of our hygiene. My skin pebbles as he runs the wet sponge over me and leaves me exposed to the air. It doesn’t feel so warm now. I start to shiver and he whispers he’ll take care of me soon.
I shiver harder at what those words might mean.
He washes me from head to toe and towels me off. When I’m buffed to his satisfaction, he strips down. I feel the blood leave my face. I was hoping he would leave me alone for one day.
“You ungrateful bastard,” he spits.
“What?” I don’t understand what’s happening.
“I saw your face. After all I just did for you, you still can’t show me any love? Well, now you’ll see how I handle your unwillingness to submit.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
“Too late.”
He stalks away from the bed over to Cammie. I can hear his heaving breaths, but can’t lift myself with the weight of the chain over my chest. All I can do is turn my head and stare in horror as his hand reaches up and grabs onto her breast.
Her scream echoes through the room and tears pour down her face. I beg him to stop. Again and again, I plead with him, but he ignores my words. His mouth comes down on the same breast and she screams again.
