7. Empty
SEVEN
EMPTY
SELF-DESTRUCTION: I PREVAIL
CALISTA
" D on't do it, Cali," Addy pleads, her voice laced with concern as I fumble with the heavy chains binding my wrists.
I turn them slightly, feeling the sharp edge of metal press against my inner wrist. As always, I ignore her warning. I push the cold metal deeper, dragging it slowly along an old scar, watching as blood begins to flow almost immediately. A sharp sting races up my right arm, sending tingles through me, yet I refuse to let the pain deter me. I cut again.
"You've been doing so well, Cali. Why would you start this again now?" Her gaze burns into me as she pulls her knees close, sitting beside me on the worn mattress.
A flickering bulb casts a dim light in our tiny prison, the smallest of gestures to set me off. "Do you see where the fuck I am?!" I snap, letting the blood trickle down onto the already stained fabric. "I'm fucking chained up... AGAIN!" I scream, not caring who might hear my desperation. "At this point, I wouldn't mind if I cut too deep and ended it all. I feel like fucking giving up, Addy." My voice falters as tears prickle my eyes. "I feel so lost... so empty."
My sniffles bounce off the walls, the only sound accompanying the rapid thump of my heart. Addy looks at me with pity—a look that infuriates me, yet I'm too defeated to respond. Silence stretches between us, and painful memories of my time in my parents' attic invade my mind, pulling me back into the depths of hell I vowed never to revisit.
But here I am, shackled in a stranger’s basement, a pawn in a game I don’t understand. I know they want what I possess—everything I know—but no matter what they do, I refuse to surrender. I will die with my secrets—both mine and theirs—before I barter with the very monsters I swore to dismantle one by one.
I know Addy wants me to fight. I know Dominic, Ash, and Killian want me to push back. But how can I muster the strength to contend when I feel so fucking powerless? When there seems to be no light at the end of my tunnel—not one I would choose for myself anyway.
A different kind of pain sweeps through me, and I clutch the jagged piece of metal tightly, pressing it into my skin repeatedly, yearning to escape the emotional void that gnaws at me. But there’s something different this time. A flicker of resilience refuses to be extinguished, no matter how much I might wish to surrender. Deep within me, there's a remnant of the warrior I once was—the one who wouldn’t let anyone dictate her fate. Even in my darkest moments—despite wanting to give in—I can’t bring myself to end it.
"We’ll escape this place, Cali, just like we did your parent's," Addy insists with a fierce grin, reminding me of the strong, tenacious woman I've aspired to become since leaving my parents' house.
I release the metal, disregarding the blood that seeps from my wounds. Although a part of the tension has eased, I know that self-harm won’t lead to salvation. All it will do is mar my body further. Each scar tells a story of survival that I wear with pride, yet the ones I inflict upon myself are haunting reminders of events I never want to relive.
"You're right, Addy. I will escape, and when I do, those motherfuckers better run and hide. Because when I find them—and I will—I won’t show them an ounce of mercy for the hell they've put me through. I’ll ensure that my name and my face are the last things they see." A grin spreads across my face as I envision my revenge, the scent of impending flames filling my senses.
The unmistakable sound of a door unlocking jolts me from my reverie, and my eyes dart nervously to the entrance. I sit upright, pressing my back against the peeling, nicotine-stained wallpaper. Three men enter—this time, none masked. My expression remains unchanged as I recognize my captors: Rhodes and Mitchell loiter near the door while Gunnar saunters toward the end of the bed, hands casually tucked in his pockets, a smirk plastered across his face.
"Well, well, well, Little Psycho. Looks like we meet again," he taunts, raising a brow as his eyes rake over me, sending a cold shiver down my spine that I refuse to reveal.
"Fuck you, Gunnar," I retort defiantly, returning his smirk as I flip him the bird, blood trickling down my forearm.
"Clear the fucking room," he instructs the others without a glance, and they obey without question, leaving only Gunnar and me behind, while Addy disappears to wherever the fuck she goes when the world gets too tough.
"I thought I'd never get you alone," he says as he joins me on the bed, roughly grabbing my ankles and tugging me down onto my back.
He climbs on top of me, pinning his muscular body against mine, using his weight to keep me from trying to slip out from underneath him. The chains work in his favor, not mine, and he takes advantage of them bound tightly to my wrists, pushing his jeans down past his knees. I squirm, the only thing I can do, trying like hell to fight him off, but he overpowers me, tearing my pants down and slipping between my legs as if he's the missing piece to a puzzle he's been trying to finish.
"There's no sense in fighting it, Little Psycho; all you'll do is waist your strength." He lifts his shirt over his head, revealing a toned body most women would kill to have—not me.
"Do it and you're going to fucking wish you hadn't," I warn, knowing my threat isn't enough to scare him off, but I still try, refusing to lie here helplessly.
"Says the one who's chained up, unable to go anywhere," he laughs, grabbing his cock and pushing it against my pussy, a lump forming in my throat that makes it hard for me to breathe.
"Gunnar, please don't do this," I beg, hearing the desperation in my tone as I fight to keep my tears at bay.
All he does is laugh again as he forces himself inside me, taking what he's always wanted ever since I was thirteen. I'm screaming inside, but the sound is swallowed by the dark corners of the basement. My body goes rigid, consumed by a thousand flashes of anger, fear, and sheer helplessness. Memories of fighting back—of defiance—play through my mind like a frantic slideshow—a failed rebellion against the life I never chose.
I refuse to give him the satisfaction of my fear, despite the turmoil raging beneath the surface. My skin crawls as he thrusts deeper, the chains cutting into my wrists, each jagged edge a reminder of my confinement. I’m lost in the chaos of my mind, battling between the physical pain and mental anguish.
I head-butt him suddenly, catching him off-guard. The crack against his forehead makes him gasp, only for a moment, but it’s enough for me to wriggle free of his grasp, rolling to the side of the mattress. My heart pounds as I scramble to put distance between us, struggling against the metal pins holding me down.
“Fucking bitch!” he snarls, frustration coloring his voice.
He lunges at me, but I dodge just in time, seizing the opportunity to kick him hard in the chest. His surprised sneer morphs into a look of rage, and I can already sense what’s coming next. I fight not to let despair creep in, to hold onto that flicker of resilience I felt before he came in.
“You’re making a mistake, Gunnar,” I hiss, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks.
The fight in me boils over, and with every ounce of strength I can muster, I shove both of my legs against him, propelling myself back against the wall.
The room is small and dark, and shadows dance ominously around us. I can hear the echo of my own breathing, heavy and ragged. He’s seething, his hands balled into fists as he rises to his feet.
“You’re going to fucking pay for that, you know,” he says, voice low and dangerous.
“Try me,” I reply, venom drenching my words despite the tremors coursing through my body.
The urge to flee is overpowering, but I stay put, determined to reclaim some of my power in this twisted game. I feel something shift within me—a spark of rebellion igniting as I recall Addy’s words and the strength in unity that my friends and I share. Maybe I can’t break free today, but I will not let them take my spirit. I will not let them shred the remnants of my hope into tatters.
He lunges at me again, but this time I sidestep him, using the chains to my advantage as I whip them around, gaining momentum.
“You think you own me?” I shout, my voice fierce, unyielding. “You have no idea what I’m fucking capable of.”
Before he can react, I swing the chains, the heavy metal smashing into his shoulder. The shock in his eyes is fleeting, quickly replaced with fury. He lunges again, but the moment stretches as I duck down, miraculously slipping through his defenses, an unexpected adrenaline rush fueling my limbs. I hit the door, slamming my shoulder against it, praying it’s not locked. The metallic click seems to echo in my ears, a resounding vote of confidence as I twist the knob and?—
"Where the fuck do you think you're going, Little Psycho?" He snarls, wrapping his hand around my hair and violently tugging it, jerking me back against his chest, his lips pressed against my ear.
"Let me go, Gunnar," I plead, but I know because of my little stunt that things are about to be much, much worse.
"You just made the biggest mistake of your fucking life, Calista," he whispers into my ear as he grabs my hips and forces me over the edge of the bed.
Pushing my face into the mattress so I can't breathe, he steps in between my parted legs and brutally thrusts into me, not showing an ounce of mercy as he rips apart my insides along with my soul, taking my pride and dignity along with it.
I cry—freely cry—for once in my life, and not because of another assault, but because I failed myself. I was too weak to fight him off, and I won't let myself ever forget it.
So as he's pounding into me from behind, taking everything he wants, I lie here and accept my fate, all while plotting in my head his death and how I'm going to make it as painful as I fucking can... whenever I manage to get free.
And I will get free. I refuse to accept that this is my fate—my ending. Not only is he going to regret kidnapping me, but I'll make damn sure he regrets ever laying a finger on me, even if that means I cut them off one by fucking one.
But for now, I succumb to the darkness, the weight of my situation—of Gunnar's body—pulling me further into the abyss. As he continues his merciless assault, I focus on my breathing, clenching and unclenching my fists around the chains. The painful pressure serves as a reminder that I'm still alive and that there’s still a flicker of hope buried within me. I've been through fucking hell before, and like then, I'll get through this too.
Suddenly, a loud crash reverberates through the basement, followed by shouting. I almost don’t register it, lost in the haze of despair and anger that clouds my mind. But then, Gunnar’s grip tightens around my waist as he glances toward the door, his focus momentarily distracted.
“Stay still, bitch,” he growls, yanking my hair to keep me from turning my head.
But something inside me stirs. The noise outside intensifies, footsteps stomping heavily across the floor above us, voices rising in urgency. For the first time, I feel a flicker of something other than dread—fear mingled with a desperate kind of hope.
I use the momentary distraction to muster every ounce of strength I can find within me. Time is of the essence. Why should I wait for someone to rescue me? I can do this myself. I have to.
With a sudden burst of will, I twist my body, trying to break free from Gunnar's grasp. I use the chains to my advantage, swinging them backward to hit him squarely in the chest. The surprise catches him off guard, and he stumbles back just enough for me to launch myself off the bed, ignoring the sharp pain from my legs as I bolt toward the door, yanking the chains off the metal plate they were secured to.
I can hear him scramble to regain his footing, rage fueling his movements. The door looms ahead, just a few agonizing steps away. I reach for the knob, adrenaline surging through me, and in that moment, I don’t look back. I throw open the door and rush into the dimly lit hallway, my breath coming in sharp gasps, the heavy chains dragging against the floor serving as a reminder of all the obstacles that tried to hold me back.
“Cali!” I hear Addy’s voice calling from further down the hall, laced with panic and relief.
"Addy!" I scream, my voice cracking as I race forward, scrambling to find her.
The hallway is cluttered with debris, but I hardly notice as I charge forward, propelled by sheer determination. I round a corner, nearly crashing into a wall as I push myself forward. The sound of pounding footsteps echoes behind me, fueling my instincts to run faster.
“Cali! Over here!” Addy appears from the shadows, bursting into view. Her eyes are wide with urgency, and relief floods my system as I close the distance between us. “What the hell happened?” she demands, glancing back toward the door.
“Gunnar,” I breathe, my heart racing as I reach her side. “We have to get out of here now! They’re coming!”
Without hesitation, Addy grabs my hand, guiding me through the twisted maze of the basement. I cling to hope like a lifeline, the anger still blazing within me but now mingling with the overwhelming need to escape.
We dash down another hallway, and the shouting from above weaves into the chaos, gaining volume. It seems there’s a commotion outside—a fight or something far worse. I just pray that whoever it is has come for us.
Suddenly, the ground shakes as something impacts the door behind us, and all thoughts of escape are drowned by the very real threat of being caught again. Addy pulls me into a small alcove, pressing me against the wall as she glances back.
“Hide,” she whispers urgently, her eyes glistening with fear.
Before I can protest, she pushes me further into the shadows, and I watch as she turns to face the hallway, ready to confront whoever emerges. Panic grips my heart; I can’t let her face this alone.
Just as I’m about to step out, a figure appears, charging down the hall like a raging bull. It’s Gunnar, his face twisted in anger, and behind him, I see the hulking forms of his accomplices moving like predators and prey.
“Where the fuck are you?” he bellows, seething, scanning every crevice.
Addy stands her ground, doing everything she can to shield me with her body.
“What the hell are you doing? Get back, Addy!” I hiss at her, feeling a surge of protective instinct that pulls me forward.
I won’t let her take the fall for my escape; I will fight. But before I can fully emerge from the shadows, an explosion rattles through the air, shaking the foundation beneath us. The lights flicker, and dust rains down from the ceiling as the walls tremble.
Chaos ignites. Gunnar stumbles back, shocked, while Addy grabs my arm. Together, we plunge forward as the barricade of confusion clouds the hallway—a moment of chance.
The two of us dash away, adrenaline coursing through our veins, throwing ourselves down another narrow corridor, pulses racing with the promise of freedom. We round another corner and suddenly slam into someone big and muscled, a hulking figure blocking our path. I recoil, ready to scream, but the moment I see the face, confusion gives way to relief as Rhode’s fierce gaze meets mine.
“Stay behind me,” he snarls, moving to shield us as he quickly unlocks the broken chains still secured around my wrists, dragging along the filthy ground just as more footsteps clash in the distance.
His voice cuts through the air like a knife, his gaze feral as he rushes to the other side, flanking us as Gunnar gets even closer. A sudden crash reverberates through the hall as the door bursts open, releasing a group of shadowy figures coming to take me back. My heart sinks as I realize Mitchell is among them, his eyes blazing with rage, chase lingering in each step.
“Cali!” he yells, his voice echoing, but I turn to Rhodes, scrambling for direction, eyes wide as I take in the chaos separating us, still confused as to why he might be helping me.
“Run!” He barks, and I don’t hesitate.
I grab Addy’s hand, and we flee past him, racing down the corridor where light flickers from a doorway at the end. Hope surges through my veins, and for the first time, I believe we can escape this hell. But then a loud crash announces more intruders, their laughter cutting through the adrenaline-fueled haze, and I realize the path won’t be easy.
The moment we slip through the doorway, I feel a weight lifted—only to come face-to-face with freedom and the pursuit that lies beyond. We’re not just running for our lives; we are fighting for our chance to reclaim the strength that’s been stolen from us.
We’re warriors in our own right, and together, we’ll dismantle the very monsters that seek to shackle us.
“Let’s go!” I shout, the fire igniting within me as we burst into the light of the outside world, determination propelling us onward, away from chains and prison, toward vengeance and liberation.
No longer do I feel lost. I feel free. I feel strong. And I know I need to not only feel determined, but I need to be determined because now that I've escaped again, there's no telling how many people are going to be hunting me until I'm found.
Let's play a game of hide and seek, shall we? I can guarantee that I'll come out as the fucking winner.
I was once the one doing the hunting, but now it seems as though I am the hunted, and they're not going to stop until they fucking capture me. But I refuse to let that happen. Welcome to the chase, motherfuckers. Let's see how well you can hide... from me.