Chapter 38
“Happy fucking birthday to me,” I mutter, shoving an old flimsy dumbbell back under the bed.
I managed to swipe one from Luke’s collection two years ago.
The dumbass hasn’t even noticed it’s gone missing.
Five years ago was when he revoked my freedom of going to pole dancing and gym, which caused me to lose all the muscle I’ve trained hard to build over the years.
Parties aren’t a rare thing in this depleted house, so I took the chance while he was high off his head to sneak into his makeshift gym in the conservatory and steal a set of dumbbells.
The reason he hasn’t noticed is because he’s stopped working out.
He barely has any muscle on him anymore.
All he wants to do is get high—it doesn’t matter what he gets high on, as long as he is—and deal drugs.
He’s been getting worse over the last few years.
Somewhere along the way, he stopped loving me.
He never looks at me anymore. Not unless he wants sex.
And even then, most of the time he presses my face into the pillow so he doesn’t have to see me.
Every time I mention breaking up, he explodes, and I bear the brunt of it.
He lets his mates take advantage of me if he gets high to the point he’s barely awake.
He has a new girl over every week, and he makes me watch him fuck them.
Something that used to result in me running into the bathroom and vomiting up my dinner, or what little of it I get, since he doesn’t let me out of the house.
I eat whatever there is, which is mostly nothing.
Now, I’m just numb to the girls. He brings them in, drags me into his room, makes me watch, and I leave.
Then I sit on my bed and think about what it would be like to be truly loved by someone.
That all-consuming love where your partner would do anything for you.
But Luke’s made it clear to me that I’m unloveable.
He reminds me every day. By his actions and by his words.
I didn’t want to believe it at first… but eventually, you really start to see it yourself.
Who could love a pole-dancing whore, right? A good-for-nothing-but-sex bitch.
Sweat trickles down the side of my temple as I straighten from the floor, pulling out a clean pair of underwear and an oversized top from my flimsy chest of drawers. As I slide it back in, the right side cracks off its hinges.
“Shit,” I hiss as it drops from my hand onto the floor with a loud bang, bending my fingers in the process. Half of my clothes spill out onto the ground, and I just stare at them.
I don’t have the energy to deal with that. My muscles are already starting to get sore from my workout, and all I want to do is shower off the sweat and get into bed.
After showering, I push the broken drawer to the corner of the room and throw my clothes haphazardly inside it.
I climb into bed and turn off my bedside lamp.
I don’t know what time it is. I assume it’s about ten at night.
Cuddling into my sheets, the ringing in my ears from another lonely day starts fading out, and the sounds of a party get louder.
I don’t think Luke forgets my birthday. I think these parties specifically on my birthday are his way of reminding me that he does remember, but he just doesn’t give a shit and he only wants to torment me.
I don’t hear female voices for a change, though. It’s just deep male voices, hooting and hollering. Thunks and thumps from their rough banter of pushing each other around or even getting into real fights. That sofa has more DNA on it than Luke’s dick.
The bass of the music rattles my floor, empty bottles of water rolling around on the splintering wood.
I growl, grabbing the other pillow next to my head and slapping it over my face, muffling the sounds of Luke’s ruckus. I fix my gaze on the moonlit wall, the net curtains casting shadows on the peeling paint as they blow with the chilly breeze.
I stare, and I stare, and I stare. Numb with anger.
Until I let the tear fall.
And another. And another. And another.
Until my pillow becomes wet, soaking up every heartbroken tear. Until the lump in my throat constricts and I can no longer breathe. Until a sob finally shudders out of me, years’ worth of held-back tears hitting me like a train wreck.
I want to scream. But I can’t.
I want to make myself as invisible as possible. I don’t want Luke or his mates coming in here like they do every year and having their way with me while I’m completely unconscious from whatever shit they’ve given me.
I’m weak. Powerless against him. Against them all.
But a sweet, feminine voice echoes in my ears.
‘The only weakness inside you is giving up.’
“What is there that I can do?” I whisper to myself through sobs like a crazy person. It’s been so long since I had a friend to talk to. A shoulder to cry on. Now my head is conjuring up my dead mum to keep me company.
Thanks, brain.
I don’t know how long I lay here, but my face is stiff from crying. Dry tears stain my cheeks, and my eyes sting. I try to breathe through my nose, but it’s completely blocked up.
I stare at the drawer in the corner of the room, the jumper sleeves hanging out of it almost intertwined with each other.
And that’s when I spring into action.
I shove on a pair of leggings and pull a jumper over my head. I brush my still slightly damp hair up into a thick bun, all the while making sure I make as little noise as possible so they can’t hear me downstairs.
I crouch near the drawer and start tying jumper sleeves together to make a long rope. My body shakes with adrenaline as I throw the massive bundle of tied-up jumpers out of my bedroom window. Leaning over, I check that it’s long enough for me to climb down.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my voice trembling. My chin quakes as I start tying one end to the bedpost. I don’t think it will hold all my weight sliding down it, but it’ll serve as a slight stopper.
My entire body feels like it’s being shocked by a million volts as I climb the windowsill.
Pausing, I listen to the noise downstairs. Nothing out of the ordinary and no one coming upstairs.
My shoes are downstairs, and there’s no way I’m going down to get them.
This is my chance.
Triple socks will have to do.
I squat with both feet on the windowsill and look towards the ground.
“Holy fuck,” I whimper. If there was ever a time to be scared of heights, it’s not now.
Get yourself together, dammit.
I spin, grabbing onto the makeshift rope.
Dangling one of my legs out of the window, I search for a hole in the render to hook my toes into.
I do the same with the other and will my body to stop shaking.
If I’m going to do this, I need to be in full control, or I’ll kill myself before I even get the chance to escape.
Both of my legs are now pushing onto the house wall, my hands gripping the jumpers like my life depends on it.
Because it does.
“Jesus fuck,” I squeal, my heart bursting out of my chest as I slowly start lowering myself.
One leg down, one hand down. Other leg down, other hand down.
I blow out a steadying breath as I continue my descent.
But then, I’m freefalling. My bed screeches along the floor before being yanked to a stop just before my body hits the ground.
The music inside the house quiets. The noises stop.
Fuck.
I don’t think about it. I let go of the rope and land with force onto my legs. A brief pain rings through my shins like static, and then I’m running.
Where?
I don’t know.
I was never allowed to look when Luke drove me to my dance classes.
We’re in the middle of a field, with sparse trees surrounding the house. Not much cover and not much direction. But my feet carry me forward.
Anywhere away from this house. From Luke.
“There she is!” a voice booms across the empty field from behind me.
This was such a bad fucking idea.
Don’t give up now.
I make the mistake of swinging my head back to look behind me. And I wish I didn’t. Luke and about five other men are chasing after me. And they’re gaining on me quickly.
I push through, the adrenaline carrying me forward at a speed I probably never would’ve been able to run.
My feet sting from running across fallen branches and rocks, but I push through until I can’t anymore. Because my body is tackled to the ground. The impact causes pain to ring out throughout my body. We roll down what I think is a hill as I’m gripped from behind tightly.
“No!” I scream as we reach the bottom, the person holding me taking most of the impact.
I fight. I kick, I claw, I punch. But it’s no use.
“Stop fucking moving,” Luke snarls in my ear.
“Let me go!”
Other footsteps and heavy breathing join us.
Scorching pain shoots into my thigh, and I scream out in agony. A hand clasps over my mouth.
“Shut the fuck up. You’ll bring attention to us.” That’s not Luke; it’s someone else.
I don’t know what’s happening anymore; there’s more than one person here. It’s dark. There’s pain radiating through my body. I can’t see.
Warmth starts spreading over my leg, and another sharp scratch shoots through. I scream into his hand, my teeth biting down on the flesh as my scream subsides.
“Fuck!” Luke shouts, yanking his hand away from my mouth. “Crazy bitch.”
“Let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone about anything. Please, just let me go.” I sob and beg through gritted teeth and panting breaths as I try to ignore the pain in my leg.
Someone laughs, and something silver glints in the corner of my vision. I’m thrown to the ground on my back, stones pinching my skin. My hand shakes as I press it to my thigh and feel it’s all wet.
Is that blood?
Someone sits on top of my chest, immediately cutting off my air. He pulls the hem of my leggings from my body, and I feel as they loosen around my waist.
I’m starting to numb, and choking sounds leave my throat as I try to breathe in any air I can. But it’s useless. I try to move my arms, but they’re trapped beneath this man.
Luke’s face comes into my vision. A wide, evil grin paints his mouth as he holds a bloody knife up next to his face.
He tuts. “You shouldn’t have done that, Chicken.”
My eyes widen with the lack of air. I don’t know how long I can take without oxygen.
Everything starts to spin, and my head feels detached from my body.
“That’s enough. Get off her.”
The weight lifts, and I drag myself to the side.
Coughing, spluttering, gasping for any air that I can.
My lungs burn inside my chest as I desperately cling to life.
The feeling in my body starts returning, and cold air brushes over my legs that wasn’t there before.
Twigs and rocks dig into the bare skin there, and a burning pain explodes on the side of my thigh where I’ve been stabbed.
Cold metal scratches my throat as it’s pressed against me, and my breathing halts.
“I was going to leave you alone tonight,” Luke slurs in my ear. “But you tried to escape me. There is no escaping me, Camila. And bad girls get punished.”
“No, p-please,” I croak.
Luke pulls the knife away, but not before he slightly nicks the skin there.
“Who wants to go first?” He asks.
“No,” I whimper, tears already leaking down my face. I hear a unison of laughter as I’m yanked onto my back, and the sounds of rustling material fills the night air.
My body is in a tremendous amount of pain, and I cannot move. No matter how much I will myself to try.
“Shit,” someone curses.
“What?”
“Is that the fucking pigs?”
“Shit.”
Booming footsteps fade out and away from me.
“What the fuck? Someone has to help me bring this bitch back!” Luke calls after them. “Fuck.”
He kneels next to me and presses the tip of the knife into the wound, making me shriek out a weak scream.
“I’m coming back for you, fucking whore,” he snarls before standing up, spitting on my face, and running.
I twist my aching head to the side as blue lights fade in from the distance.