Milo
Fifteen years ago.
I think I spent about three months in this damp basement.
After I shot Viktor, they dragged me down there. I still don’t know exactly how long I was kept.
There are no windows, but I noticed the guards swap long sleeves for short ones, and that told me the season had changed.
The daily beatings are nothing. I would rather die than hurt an innocent girl, especially like that.
I would never do it.
That is the one line I will never cross.
It doesn’t matter how long he locks me up. It doesn’t matter how often they beat me, starve me, isolate me.
None of it will change my mind.
“Let’s go,” a guard snaps.
When I take too long to stand, he hauls me to my feet and shoves me forward.
We leave the basement and climb the stairs, back into that damned room.
Fuck.
In a few minutes, I’ll be sent back down to what has become my home for the duration of my stay here—the bloody basement.
Because I will refuse him again.
Why can’t I be stronger?
Why can’t I just kill them all?
Set the place on fire, bring the whole house down on their heads.
But I am barely more than a child, even if I don’t feel like one.
And I am trapped.
This house is a prison.
I can’t even remember the last time I left the basement, let alone stepped outside these walls.
I go to the boarding school, yes, but even there I am watched from every angle.
It makes no difference, that place is a prison too.
The door opens, and that sickening smell hits me.
Viktor smirks.
“Come in. Take a seat,” he says, gesturing toward the chair placed in the centre of the room.
It isn’t long before they drag in another crying girl.
Exactly what I expect.
When I refuse, yet again, to touch her, he doesn’t order me to kill her.
He simply smiles.
The girl is escorted out, her sobs fading down the corridor. Silence settles over the room, as I study him carefully.
I can’t figure out what his game is now.
A few minutes later, a woman enters.
She wears only lingerie.
I look at her and feel only disgust.
She smiles down at me, and the expression makes my skin crawl.
“This one?” she asks Viktor, her fingers brushing my jaw.
He nods, satisfied.
“Don’t worry,” she murmurs. “I’ll make a man out of you.”
Her hand slides over my dick, and bile rises at the back of my throat.
And so it begins.
From that day forward, I am counted among his victims.
If you don’t claim power, it is taken from you.
But I don’t give a damn.
I will come for you all.
Just wait.