Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
BLAIR
I’ve been sleeping more. Whether it's in the hopes of escaping the nightmare I face when I wake, or because my body is too weak to do anything else, I find myself sleeping the majority of my days. I'm not sure if it's much better based on the nightmares that have been plaguing my mind every time I close my eyes, but it’s better than whatever Lorenzo could do to me.
Where do you hide when the monsters are inside of your head?
My eyes shift behind my lids, in a state between dream and reality. I'm still vaguely aware of what's happening beyond my tired mind. When the door to my cement prison opens, I quickly shift from the limbo to the real world.
My eyes shoot open but I don’t move a muscle as three men walk into the room. My heart starts beating harder at the thought of the pain that is likely to come. Like a fluttering bird with broken fucking wings that just keeps smashing against the bars of its cage. Why else would they come in here, if for no reason other than to cause harm?
The fear that courses through my veins has my whole body stiffening as they near me. One of them hangs back as the other two come closer to me. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for what I think is about to come, expecting pain or anything other than the feeling of my cuffs leaving my skin.
That's as much grace as they offer me though. My arms are roughly gripped as I'm yanked from the floor. They drag me forward since my limbs haven’t been used for the last few days. I feel like a baby deer learning to walk.
My legs are weak, but now is not the time for me to focus on that. The light peeking through the door burns my eyes as I ascend the staircase, or rather get dragged upstairs. Being trapped in a dark basement with only a small dim light and my thoughts as company has messed with my head.
Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness, I do my best to look at my surroundings. The last time I would have been in this area of the house, I was unconscious. I bounce my eyes over every inch of the residence as I'm dragged through. I could fight right now, try to escape, but instead, I'm using this time to take in the environment of my captivity, committing it to memory and storing it for later. Knowing the layout can aid my plan to escape this hell.
I don’t want to fight and give them a reason to knock me out again, I’ll only risk myself the opportunity to find a way out. I’m dragging my eyes from one room to the next while I’m led through the house, trying to find any beacon of hope, any way of a possible getaway when the time is right. The gears in my brain start turning, formulating a plan .
Fighting back isn't working, I don't know why I thought it would. Maybe if I can gain his trust, make my captor feel as if he has broken me, molded me into the perfect toy, I can escape. The idea of being compliant for my assaulter causes bile to arise in my throat. I swallow it back down, attempting not to gag on the vile taste. My clothes are already stained with my vomit from Lorenzo’s latest visit.
I look over at one of the men who has a hold on me and see him wrinkling his nose. I must have become immune to the smell of it. Making our way to what seems like the back of the house, I am led to what must be a guest bedroom. The decor is simple and sparse, but that's not what immediately has every hair on my body standing to attention.
No . It's the predator stalking from the corner of the room, that has every inch of me on high alert. My steps falter and if it wasn't for the men grasping my arms, I would probably be splayed out on the floor right now. Lorenzo peers down at me with hatred and disgust. His brows furrowed as he goes to squeeze his nose, blocking out his ability to smell. “ Christ , you fucking reek. Gianna and Beth are my workers. They will try to fix this-” he waves his hands out, motioning towards me, “mess.”
Crumbs of anger make their way to the surface. He’s insulting me when he's the reason I’m covered in slobber, vomit and cum. The skin of my tongue breaks and blood fills my mouth as my teeth clamp down on it. I bite back my snarky comments, knowing I’ll just be met with more punishment if I speak. I give a stiff nod.
“ You will not disrespect them. We have plans for tonight and I need you to look like a presentable whore, not just a whore.” He spits out, every word stabbing at my broken armor that's barely holding on. “ If you disobey me, I will take your ass the next time I beat you. Do you understand me?”
He grips my face, smushing my cheeks together in a grip so punishing, I bet it'll leave a bruise. Lorenzo shakes my head forcefully to imitate a yes motion. Letting go, he pats my cheek a little harder than necessary. “ Very good. I knew you could be an obedient whore. You just need to be broken and trained. That won't be an issue.” He peers down once more and his upper lips curl as he walks out of the room.
The men who were holding me let go and spread out to the corners of the room. My eyes dart to the door as two women enter. The pair of women share the same inky black hair and dark eyes. Eyes that hold all of the misery and brutality they've seen behind these doors. Their outfits are short black dresses with the cliche white apron over top.
Where one is tall, young, and skinny to the point I can see her bones, the other is short and older, wrinkles decorating her skin. Walking into the room they give me small smiles that don't reach their dead eyes. I assume these women are Gianna and Beth . “ Do you guys know what's going on?” I whisper as they get closer. They look at each other and then me, but don't speak. “ I’m being held here against my will, you have to help me, as a woman, how can you stand by and let this happen? Please . Please you have to-”
I'm cut off when one of the men smacks me across the face. I was so focused on trying to reason with the women, I didn’t see him approach me. “ That’s enough. Go take a fucking shower, dirty fucking bitch!” He shouts. Looking back at them, som ething akin to sympathy flashes in their eyes but less than a second later, they are void of any compassion.
“ I am Beth , and that's Gianna .” The shorter one explains, her Russian accent noticeable. “ Let's go get you cleaned up.”
With gentle, yet frigidly cold hands, she guides me to the adjoining bathroom. Gianna turns on the shower, and I watch as she gathers towels, products, and tools. She places them all on the counter of the vanity in the bathroom then turns to face me. “ You need to undress so we can wash you.” Her voice is scratchy, less confident than the older lady.
I wonder if she’s also here against her will, if all of the women in this house are. Not wanting them to touch me more than they’ll have to, I begin to strip off my vomit-stained clothes. I catch a glance in the mirror and the woman looking back at me has a gasp falling from my lips. In the span of a few days, I’ve gotten significantly thinner.
My face is bruised and the wounds on my back look angry with the raised split flesh. The dried blood and cum has scabbed over. Bruises litter my arms, legs, and around my stomach. Dried blood coats my thighs.
My throat starts to feel tight and my breathing picks up. I quickly look away and try to tamp down the screaming agony that is bubbling up my chest and into my throat. The shell of the woman looking back at me is nothing like the girl I remember.
Beth lightly grabs my arm and starts to pull me into the steam of the shower. The gentle spray still hurts my tattered skin, and I let the pain that was bubbling up boil over. Closing my eyes under the water, the tears I was holding back easily start flowing down my cheeks .
The spray of the water hides the drops rolling from my eyes but it doesn't hide the pain shining in them or the small cries that leave my lips. The feeling of a rag on my abused skin causes my eyes to spring open as I hiss.
Beth doesn't stop though, she continues to take the rag and wash off the chunks of dried vomit and cum, as well as the blood coating my back and thighs. The fabric against my raw flesh burns but I grit my teeth and push through it, hoping it'll be over soon.
Trying to distract myself from what feels like sandpaper being scraped against my skin, I open my mouth to ask again but the words die in my throat as she begins on the open wounds decorating my back. “ Fuck ,” I rasp, the pain causes black dots to dance across my vision. It seems Beth notices and tries to distract me as she whispers.
“ It's a welcoming gala. Just stay quiet and lay low and you’ll make it home in one piece.”
Her confession has me more confused than before. The only thing I take away from her words is that I’m leaving the house.
Home ?
That is not what this place is. It’s a perfectly curated hell and Lucifer - I mean Lorenzo , runs the show. If there's an opportunity to escape, I would be stupid not to take it. I don't know when the next time I'll be leaving this prison is. Beth finishes washing me and by the time I step out of the shower, I notice Gianna hanging up a dress.
“ Your dress.” She says while shaking the material. I finish drying off, careful of my sensitive skin and allow them to help me into the dress. The tight black material hurts my skin as it presses agai nst it. The dress has a deep V in the front, exposing my cleavage.
The long sleeves hide the bruises marring them. The dress is long, molding to my body until it swishes out around my ankles at the bottom. The material pulls at the scabs and scars covering my back and for a moment, I appreciate my vomit-covered clothing. At least it was comfortable.
Once the dress is on, Gianna grabs my wrist and leads me to a chair in front of the mirror. I don't have to ask what they're about to do, I can tell based on all the makeup and hair products in front of me. They cake makeup on my skin, covering the bruises with layers of foundation and color corrector. As Gianna works on my makeup, Beth stands behind me doing my hair.
Minutes go by, then an hour until they're done. Gianna steps out of the way and I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes widen in shock when I see my reflection. With the amount of makeup on my skin, you can't see the bruises hiding underneath, I would almost say I look good.
Pretty even.
A rock forms in the pit of my stomach. That same gut feeling I had before, and ignored, is back, and this time I let it simmer. I need it. The universe is alerting me that something is not right and I won't ignore it this time. Beth distracts me by pulling me back into the bedroom and ushering me into a pair of heels that feel one size too small.
Lorenzo is striding through the door the moment I finish shoving my foot into the small shoe. “ Let’s go.” He barks. Remembering my plan, I don't complain and pick up my pace behind him. We walk through the foyer and I see the front door. “ Don't even think about it, bitch.” He snarls over his shoulder.
“ I wasn’t,” I whisper. I need him to believe I won't escape, I need to wait for an opening.
Grabbing my wrist in his sweaty palm, he starts to pull me out the front door, to a waiting car. The driver rounds the side and opens the door, while Lorenzo all but shoves me inside.
I move to the opposite side of the backseat, as far from him as possible as he enters the car. The feeling of possible freedom has a bit of my personality coming back, causing me to speak under my breath.
“ Am I allowed to have any fun at this event?” I mumble, hoping he doesn’t hear me. I quickly realize I made a mistake of talking out of line or talking at all when he grabs my face and jerks me forward, no doubt ruining the makeup on my skin.
“ Do not fucking upset me, you stupid whore. You think what I’ve done so far was bad? You’ve seen nothing. I want you to be like a fucking blow up doll, silent and nothing but a hole for me to use. Got it?” I nod my head slightly in his grip, the reality skirts down my spine. I have to get away from him. I open my mouth to tell him I understand when he quickly shoves a little pill inside.
I go to spit it out but he covers my mouth, forcing me to swallow it. I don't know what he gave me or what it will do, but I don't dare ask, not right now. “ This will help you be a compliant fuck doll for me. No bitching or problems and we’ll have a good night.” He pats my face like he did before and leans back into his own seat, ignoring me.
Turning my head, I peer out the window and gaze at the passing scen ery. My breath fans the window, leaving a fogged circle. I lift my shaky finger and draw a frown in the spot. As the heat leaves the window and my drawing disappears, I can't help the feeling of my heart squeezing.
I am that foggy window drawing. Gone and never to be seen again.
Time passes in a blur until we stop in front of a ginormous mansion. Elegant columns and statues line the front entrance. There’s a convoy of cars pulling up to the museum-like structure. It’s early evening and the sun is just beginning to set. Outdoor lights flicker on along the front of the property, illuminating it. The cars in front and behind us are all luxurious. Maseratis , Range Rovers , Cadillacs , Alfa Romeros , Bentleys , and more drop off attending guests. My jaw drops slightly, but I pick it up before Lorenzo can spot my awe.
I don’t need to give him any impression that I enjoy this life with him.
The drug starts to take effect and I feel my limbs loosen, my mind becoming foggy. I lick my lips and they feel numb, my whole body does, really. A hand touches my back and I look over to Lorenzo as he urges me to step out of the car. I do as instructed, smoothing my hands over my dress to press out any wrinkles. Why do I care about my appearance? I’m literally here to hang off of Lorenzo’s arm like a shiny accessory, nothing but a new toy for him to show off.
Stepping through the enormous, cream double doors, we walk inside to an extremely polished atmosphere. White and gold marble floors cover the vast area. Paintings that I’m sure are worth millions, litter the house. Every man is dressed in impressive, no doubt, designer, suits. Women hang on their arms, as they’re paraded around and shown off.
Looking around, I notice all the women hold the same bleary look in their eyes as I do. The same look I saw reflected back at me when I caught a glimpse in the mirror. Or maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. My step falters as I catch sight of a girl I could have sworn was on one of those missing posters. I attempt a double-take when I'm pulled in the opposite direction by Lorenzo .
I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. I must be seeing things. Right ? It couldn't be another missing student from Blackwood . Yet , I’m here. I was taken. My face is probably printed on a missing poster. So it can't be that far fetched. My stomach drops at the thought and the resolution influences me to steal another glance at the passing women. My eyes catch onto the bruises and cuts on their skin, sunken faces, and sad eyes. My heart rate starts to pick up at the realization.
We’re all here against our will. That must be what this is. Some kind of secret society where they parade their wicked trophies and show off their purchases. To size up another man and see if his prize is better than yours, more behaved, more compliant. Un -fucking-believable. These women are fighting the same struggles, the same demons as I am.
The plan to alert someone for help dies along with my hope. I can try to run but I’ll without a doubt get caught. The drug has my limbs feeling weaker, I don't know how far I could get. I'm trying to form a new plan when familiar blue eyes grab my attention. I remain focused on the woman trying to decipher where I remember her from. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to place her anywhere from my life .
Unlike my possible classmate from earlier, this woman is older, around my own mother’s age. My brows furrow as I stare at her. As if she could sense me staring, she looks my way and the air from my lungs disappears. Goosebumps line my arms as the woman looking back at me resembles so closely the women from the photos Emmett showed me of his mother. It's hard to tell due to the time that has passed but I swear that could be her.
She quickly looks away, her blonde hair hiding her face as she whispers something to the man she's with and then disappears down a nearby hallway. I spare a glance at the man, the tattoo of an 8-ball on his neck stands out against his porcelain skin. The urge to follow her takes root, and before I can stop myself, I'm checking to see if Lorenzo is distracted and making my way down the same hallway. If he happens to notice, I’ll tell him I just had to use the restroom.
The hallway is dim and I don't see her, but that doesn't stop me from calling out. “ Sera ? Is that you?” I whisper-shout. My words are a little slurred, but they are coherent enough to understand.
At least, I hope they are.
My slightly wobbly legs do the best they can to keep me upright. Walking further down the hallway, I’m met with complete silence beside the distant sound of guests mingling back in the main room.
My heels click on the floor as I continue looking into the open rooms. Inside each one, I'm met with emptiness. Nothing but darkness and complete silence. Where could she have disappeared to so quickly? Am I seeing things? I don't know what Lorenzo gave me but maybe that's what's going on. There's no way Emmett's mom would be here. She died, and he saw her hanging from the fucking balcony for crying out loud. It must be the drug that Lorenzo shoved in my mouth. How fucked up would I have to be to conjure her up like that? I turn on my heels and make my way back to Lorenzo before he realizes I'm gone, when I run into something hard.
“ What . The . Fuck . Are you doing? I thought I told you to behave, you idiot.” Backing up slowly, I prepare myself to run.
“ I was just looking for the bathroom.” I lie. I know I’ve just pissed him off and this could be my only chance to get away. I take a step back, and then another, and then I'm turning around and starting to sprint. To where, I don't know.
It was a futile attempt, I realized that the moment I started running. His hand is buried in my hair and yanking me backward before I'm a few steps away, the small heels causing me to lose my balance. He drags me into the darkness of a nearby room and throws me to the floor. My already battered body makes me choke on my own shriek as it hits the ground.
“ I told you to fucking behave!” He roars as he bends down to hit me.
SMACK .
“ Dense fucking bitch.” He spits on me, the saliva runs down my cheek and a renowned sense of fear coats my insides. I shouldn’t have tried running yet.
I thought I knew fear. I thought that maybe I even liked fear. The jolt of adrenaline that ran through my veins as fear would wash over me was addicting. But that was a different kind. That was fear that morphed into pleasure. That was fear brought on with the promise of safety afterward. That was fear with Emmett . I realize now I didn't know fear. I don't think I ever did. This , this feeling of pure terror that turns my blood to ice, this is fear .
Pure . Fucking . Fear .
Lorenzo is forcefully pulling me off the floor and out of the room before I can get myself together. Further down the hallway, I notice a door that I didn't see before. Lorenzo opens it and shoves me through. This must have been a back door because now we’re standing outside of the massive residence. Within seconds, he’s making a phone call as I wrap my arms around myself in a protective manner.
Shortly after he ends the call a car pulls up and I'm making my way inside before he has the chance to shove me in. The ride is silent apart from my heavy breathing. I know the promise of pain awaits me back at the house. What I’m unsure of is if I’ll be able to handle it. I don’t think my body can take much more physical damage and I’m sure as shit that my mind is rapidly deteriorating.
My eyes are glued to the window the entire ride back. I pay attention to street signs and highways. I’m not from North Dakota so I have no idea how far we are from Blackwood , or if we’re still in the same state. But if I can find out where I am first, I can figure out a way back after.
We arrive back at his house and he grabs my wrist, yanking me out of the vehicle.
Goodbye world, the darkness awaits me.
Lorenzo flings the basement door open and shoves me down the steps. I stumble over myself, grabbing onto the walls to steady my shaking legs. He stomps down the flight of stairs and pushes me up against the wall. The glint of his knife causes a lum p to form in my throat as he advances on me. He quickly reaches out and grabs the material of my dress. Taking the knife, he cuts the fabric, not caring that he slices my skin in the process. The sting of the fresh cut causes me to cry out.
“ Shut up.” He spits.
He grabs the cuffs that are laid on the mattress and secures them onto my hands and feet. I want to put up a fight but the drugs and lack of nutrition have made me so much weaker. My battered body feels like it's been through war. I squeeze my eyes shut when his weight towers over me. With the chains restricting my movements, I'm completely at his mercy.
I don’t need a warning to know what’s about to happen. The smell of alcohol fans over my nostrils as he leans over me. Grabbing my cheeks roughly, he shoves another pill into my mouth. I’m shaking my head in his grip trying to sound out the word no. I attempt to spit it out but he covers my mouth, forcing me yet again, to swallow the little pill.
I know the moment it takes effect. This added with the earlier dose, I feel my limbs go numb, the strength leaving me. This can't be happening. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth as I try to form words, anything to tell him to stop, but I can't. I can't tell if my mouth opens on a silent scream or if it’s in my head.
Even with numb limbs, I know the exact moment he shoves himself inside me. I can't feel the burn I know will be there when the drugs wear off, but I can tell based on the movement of my body, on my heart and soul being punctured with every jerk backward.
Trying to move my arms or legs to fight back and not being able to, cause tears to swell in my eyes. I can’t fight back, and th at’s another form of torture on its own. I squeeze my eyes shut and retreat into my mind, once again going to that place that keeps me far, far away from my reality.
With my eyes shut, I wait for this torture to end. When the heat of his body leaves mine, I take a chance and peek. He’s standing up and fixing his belt, peering down at me like I'm the biggest inconvenience he’s ever had.
He shakes his head once and then turns on his heel to exit the room. Once the door is shut, I dry heave and roll over onto my side. “ W - Why ?” I croak. If it wasn’t for the wetness forming under my face on the mattress, I wouldn't be aware of the tears flowing from me. Spotting another rock much like the other, I pick it up.
I press the rock against the cement and start to write a single word. A word that seems to continue coming to mind. A question, really. A question I’ll never get the answer to. By the time I finish, my previously scabbed fingers have reopened and bled along the word I’ve scratched into the wall.
Why ?