Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
DALILA
T he back of his hand stings against my face as he slaps me again.
Blood trickles in a slow, lazy drip from my split lip.
I lick it, tasting the metallic flavor of iron.
My eyes flutter as they try to stay open.
My body is shivering. I am freezing cold, in shock, in pain - I don’t know which one is causing me to shiver - perhaps all of them. My vision swims in and out of focus.
Suddenly the air is beaten from my lungs as a heavy boot kicks into my ribs.
“Answer me, you little bitch.” The man leaning over me spits at me. It hits the ground in front of me and I watch it spread, mixing with my blood that has pooled through.
“I don’t know.” I breathe, my ribs aching.
“Fuck.” He screams and slaps me again. His knuckle connects with my eye and pain burns through to the bone.
My head drops backwards. I can barely hold it up anymore.
I close my eyes as my consciousness drifts away from me.
Someone grabs my jaw.
The man.
It must be Lenny Malone. His expensive suit and shiny shoes are too nice for security. His air of arrogance and unrestrained cruelty - it can only be him.
“This fucking bitch will talk. She just needs a little more motivation. Strip her down. Let her relax here in the basement for an hour or two without the heating on.”
“She won’t last that long.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“It’s freezing down here.”
“If she dies - it’ll just be a lesson for her father. Don’t fuck with me. Don’t make me promises you don’t intend to keep.”
Malone turns his back on me, and I squint, trying to focus on the other men around me.
Hands tug at my already torn clothing. Pulling them off my body. I wince and try to kick them away, but they are rough, heartless, and cruel. Within moments, I am in nothing but my lace panties. My naked skin pressed against the concrete floor. I glance down at my body as I try to wrap my arms around myself. I can already see the bruises beginning to color. Bright and dark blue marks etched into my skin.
I press my hand over a cut on my side, the impact of a boot split my skin open.
My body is shaking even more now. I dare not say anything.
I know this man is not the reason. Nothing I say is going to help my situation.
I don’t even know what he wants from me. I don’t know what information he is trying to get.
The men all walk away from me. One by one, they turn their backs on me as though I was a stray dog they didn’t care about. As though I was nothing, no one, worthless and useless. Because, after all, that is what I am to them.
The massive light above me flickers, clicks and goes out.
Darkness.
My fears coming to life as the shadows in every corner make shapes. Creeping towards me.
I shift, moving in painfully slow motions to the center of the floor. Where the only bit of light is still touching.
Pale blue light is filtering through the small windows near the ceiling. Those windows are at ground level outside, but in here they are high above me.
Pale blue snow tinted light.
It makes the space look colder. It feels empty and threatening - that pale light - void of life.
But at least it softens the edges of the darkness. I don’t know what I would do if there was only darkness.
I am terrified of the dark.
I lay in the cold shadows on the concrete floor of Lenny Malone’s basement and cry. My body is shivering that my muscles feel like they are spasming in pain.
I roll onto my side as I pull my legs up against my chest, wrapping my arms around them to hold myself in the smallest ball I can. Trying to keep my warmth, what little of it I have.
My father sold me to this man.
He sold me to this man so that he wouldn’t have to go to jail for a few years.
He thought that this torture, this pain, this degrading treatment - this absolute cruelty - was a fair trade for him staying free.
My lips are numb as the coldness creeps deeper into my body.
I can feel death looking over my shoulder. Whispering sweet promises in my ear.
Soon it won’t hurt anymore.
Soon you can close your eyes and forget about this pain.
“I don’t want to die.” I whisper back, my voice startling me.
The tears that run over my cheeks feel warm. They remind me I’m not dead yet.
I can’t die. Because I want to see him again.
I want to lie in his arms and hear him say my name. I want to see the way the corners of his lips curl up and create those gorgeous dimples in his cheeks.
I want to trace my fingers over the devil’s mark on his body, the jagged edges embossed into his skin forever.
I close my eyes, but I feel my body drifting, as though death is disguised as sleep.
I can’t sleep now. I might never wake up.
Blinking into the dark, I try to sit up, but my body is in so much pain I’m finding it impossible. I can hardly move my hands, never mind anything else.
“Nevio.” I whisper into the darkness. “Please come and find me before it’s too late.”
My tears feel frozen on my cheeks. I can’t even reach up to touch them because my hands are too sore.
“Please, I can’t do this - I need you.”