Chapter Seventeen
Isaac
Iwatch as she falls asleep, her breathing picking up when she begins to thrash around—another nightmare.
My jaw clenches each time she moves. At my sides, I open and close my fist, watching as Ronnie fights him even in her sleep.
That motherfucker will pay. I promise, it could be tomorrow, a month, a fucking year, but I will kill him for hurting her.
My stomach sinks at the memory. I have to get her out of here…
My eyes grow heavy, burning from the need to sleep.
I try to push through it, using my hands to rub the sleep from my eyes.
It’s getting harder to stay awake, but I needed to try.
I need to protect her, especially while she’s vulnerable.
Eventually, I succumb to the pull of sleep, only to be awakened by footsteps and the blinding stream of light that alerts me to their presence.
I jolt awake as the basement door creaks open, and Priscilla enters behind her husband, wearing a robe, her chestnut hair falling to her shoulders.
Morning time already. They are creatures of habit.
Both walk in with a tray that holds a banana, a boiled egg, and water.
My lips curl in disgust. I can tell by the end of this.
I will never touch another egg or banana.
Water is tricky, we need it to survive, but I know the memory of this place will linger with each swallow.
As if she can sense the predators in the room, Ronnie springs awake, inching away from them, her eyes wide with fear.
“It’s your turn.” Harry points at me with a beady finger.
The words ring through the silence, chilling my blood and stirring a primal rage I’ve never known.
I couldn’t help but glare dagger into him.
“I lost my temper yesterday,” Harry sighs, running a hand down his face.
“I’m a man with flaws. God didn’t make me perfect, but I’m a fair man who believes in an eye for an eye.
Seeing you threatening my wife made me react. ”
Priscilla places the food and water on the floor beside Veronica.
Her gaze never leaves Ronnie. “Eat,” she says, her voice devoid of any emotion.
Ronnie’s eyes flicker from the food to Priscilla and then to me.
She looks like she’s about to tell her off, thankfully, she focuses back on me.
I give her a nod, encouraging her to eat.
She needs to be strong to survive this place, but I can see the fear in her eyes.
I wish I could take it all away. For now, all I can do is make sure we maintain our strength for whatever comes next.
Ronnie reluctantly bites into the banana while my gaze shifts back to Priscilla and her husband.
Now that I have water, I lick my lips, moistening the chapped flesh.
“Why don’t you let us try?” I motion to Ronnie, who stops mid bite, her mouth hanging slightly.
I ignore it, of course. What else can I do to protect her?
“I can knock her up… I always wanted to fuck her anyway.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, a vile truth to protect the woman I love from further violation.
I only hope she understands. The look on her face tells me that she does.
It’s a resignation. Not lust nor desire.
From the corner of my vision, I see Priscilla’s eyes burn holes into me, a repulsed grimace twisting her beautiful features.
All while Harry stares expressionlessly at me, his cold gaze lingering before finally breaking away to look at Ronnie.
A heavy silence fills the room, hanging like a thick fog.
The pungent smell of the boiled egg mixed with the earthy scent of mildew suffocates me.
The banana is half-eaten now, the water untouched.
Ronnie’s hands tremble violently as she tries to finish the last bite.
“No,” he replies after what feels like an eternity. His voice is quiet yet firm, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. “We don’t want an incestual baby. This is the only way.”
The finality in his tone sends a fresh wave of dread washing over me.
Priscilla’s smile returns, cold and cruel, as she reaches out to my face.
Sick motherfuckers, they’re enjoying this…
They desire us. This isn’t just about a baby.
This is about using us. It’s okay if this is what she wants.
Then she could have it. It will be a mistake that will cost them. That I promise.
I lock eyes with Priscilla and begin to unbuckle my pants.
Wasting no time, this is what we are here for.
I’ll behave if it keeps him from hurting her.
I don’t tear my eyes from her, not because I find her attractive.
It’s more like a sick observation, noticing she’s much younger than Harry, and despite it all, she’s a beautiful woman.
Not as beautiful as mine, but enough to make me question why the fuck is she married to the oger besides her.
Priscilla’s reaction is instant; her breath hitches as she watches me pull out my flaccid cock.
I smirk, feeling my lifeless cock in my hand.
It’s gonna take a miracle to get it to work.
Gripping the base of my softened dick, I slowly move my hand up and down on my shaft, seemingly captivating her attention.
“You want this cock?” I ask, my voice low and husky with some perverse sense of triumph.
Repulsion takes hold of me, screaming to be felt, but I ignore it.
I make the grave mistake of glancing over at Ronnie.
Who meets my gaze with a mix of confusion and disappointment, and I instantly regret it.
The look on her face is foreign to me. I hate it, but right now, I can’t let myself care, not now.
She can hate me. As long as I can keep her safe, I’ll go along with their plan.
Looks are my only weapon in this situation; plus, I’m used to unwanted touch.
Because any touch that’s not from Ronnie is not welcome—she’s the only exception.
This is how I get us out. My eyes lower, the erection finally taking shape in my hand.
I hope he hates every minute of this. A grin appears on my lips, and I mutter, “You want a baby? Come fucking work for it.”
Priscilla’s eyes flare with a wild, animalistic desire. “May I?” She looks up at her husband, who is now as pale as a ghost, watching his wife drool at the hot piece of ass in front of her.
Slowly, he gives a slight nod of agreement. It is not a decision made freely, but rather out of a desperate need to maintain control of whatever is left. His face is a grim mask that belies the turmoil within. Too bad I can’t hide the disgust that morphs into my features.
Everything blurs around her, except the image of Ronnie.
She’s the only thing I focus on. She’s the light at the end of this dark-ass tunnel.
The tension in the room is palpable, so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Dread coils around my spine, shame tugs at my heart, and instead of warmth, it’s disgust that gathers in my core.
Even though I'm repulsed by her and what she represents, my body plays along just as I will it to.
The urge to kick her off becomes harder and harder to keep away.
The closer she gets, the more the feeling grows.
Then her mouth closes around my cock, and I recoil into my mind.
The shock of it all sends me into another place, disconnecting me entirely from myself.
My body. This is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
It’s wrong, and no matter how much I want it to all go away.
It doesn’t. A small voice beckons me to the light.
“Iz.” That's all it takes. That small and broken plea strengthens my resolve.
Slamming me back to my prison. Making sure to use my free hand to hold her.
If she fucking wants it, she can suffer for it.
My gaze zeroes in on Ronnie, who watches with a tortured expression, her face pale as she clenches her hands into tight fists.
My vision blurs again, so I blink over and over until there’s no more sting.
I fight to hold the vomit that quickly climbs up my throat.
I know it is hurting her to see this, but there is no going back.
Not now. Harry looks away, a small victory on my board.
It’s already working. Division. Priscilla is nothing but a woman deprived of love.
Of touch. I didn’t have to use my words to lie, only my body.
I’ll use it to sell her the illusion of a future.
And once she’s in the palm of my hands, I’ll free my girl, and I’ll crush them both.
Without a word, she turns to me, placing both hands against the wall, bracing herself as she sinks onto me.
The feeling can only be compared to being severely drunk.
Your stomach is churning, and the room is spinning.
You want to move, yet you can’t. Anger burns through me, but I push through it all.
I have to for Ronnie. My arm snakes around her waist, and I push into her, holding her waist before pumping into her.
Making sure each is more painful than the last. She grimaces as her hands grip me to stop me.
I want to hurt her as much as he hurt Vero, but all I’m doing is killing myself.
Harry clears his throat as the sounds of sex spill into the silent room.
I feel Priscilla’s walls pulse around me with each violent thrust, each one a dagger to my heart.
To my soul. My eyes drift towards the silence, there she is.
The love of my life has an impassive facade on her face.
One that’s beginning to crack, I know it won’t be long before the dam bursts and lets out all the desolation she has been holding back.
Still, she meets my gaze, willing me to stay with her. Before turning into a question. “Why do we have to bear this?”
It hangs in the air, unspoken yet clearly understood between us.
The look in Ronnie’s eyes tells me everything.
The emptiness, the disgust, the defiance—all laid bare for me to see.
In response, I can only offer a silent, sorrowful apology with my eyes.
A mute plea for forgiveness. This is not what I want for us.
I can only promise to get us out of here. I just need an opening.
Priscilla’s claw-like grip tightens on my forearm as her body shudders above me, the climax of her pleasure reaching its peak.
Yet, I feel removed, detached from the act itself.
My body is merely a vessel, performing mechanically.
I feel the bile rise within me as my own body reaches its peak and spills inside Priscilla.
My orgasm takes me by surprise, a quick and brutal end to my part in this macabre puppet show.
Priscilla lets out a low moan, her nails cutting deep tracks into my flesh as she writhes.
The pain is a welcome distraction from this shame, gutting me from the inside.
Ronnie turns away. The stoic mask she’s worn through this finally shatters, fragments of raw pain scattering across her face.
My heart shatters with hers, the pieces of our dignity and self-worth ground to dust beneath their perverse acts.
When it’s all said and done, I’m left sitting on the ground, hearing movements that my eyes don’t track.
I hear the door open and close. Followed by stillness.
Once again, we are left here in the basement in silence and reeling from the horrors that have unfolded.
I pull myself off the floor, my legs nearly collapsing under me, but I manage to stand and relieve myself in the bucket.
Hearing the soft sniffles coming from Ronnie, I didn't turn towards her; I couldn’t have.
In no time, nausea stirs deep in my gut, collapsing me onto my knees and puking into the bucket.
The room seems to close in around me, the air heavy and putrid.
It takes me a moment to recover and be able to face her. When I turn, Ronnie is still curled up on the floor, a crumpled figure that barely resembles the spirited girl I fell in love with. My hand reaches out as if I could touch her. She’s so close yet so far.
I can’t bear the quiet. When I open my mouth to speak, Ronnie breaks the silence. “Is this the only way to survive this… by giving in?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I honestly don’t know.”