Chapter 49
brIELLE
A few of the girls left, including Delaney. I have no idea where, but she didn’t seem scared. She never does.
From what I’ve gathered, she’s been here for a long time. I know she’s older than me by a few years, but all of this seems normal to her. Like she doesn’t know anything different.
She doesn’t fight or talk back. She just does as they say. The things she has probably been through are more than any average person could go through and still make it out on the other side. I know if she told me even a fraction of what’s happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to handle hearing it.
I haven’t had much time to talk to her or anyone. Most of the girls are too scared to talk, aside from Delaney. The first day I got here, she was the only reason I didn’t completely break down. She talked me down, and for that, I’ll forever be grateful.
This is the first time I feel somewhat normal. No drugs in my system, and no guards touching or shoving me. No one is telling me what to do or where to go. I should be thankful for whatever time I have alone.
My head is resting on my arm as I lie naked on the dirty blanket. The only sound is water dripping from somewhere in the cell, and it gives me something to focus on.
Everything feels distant, like I’m watching a horror movie play out in my head with each passing second, but all that’s left is a dull ache settling in my chest as I mess with the torn material of the blanket.
All the guards keep talking and laughing from somewhere close by, continuing with their lives as if what they do for Peter isn’t bad.
Like another day at the office.
Their lives keep going. But me? The women here? We exist in the hollow space between it all.
Knowing Emris is dead sends pain through me—pressing against my ribs, suffocating me, and leaving me feeling weightless. I know he’s no longer hurting here. They can’t hurt him anymore if he’s dead. I just wish I could’ve left with him.
I reach for all the memories I got to share with him, but they slip through my fingers, too sharp and too painful to hold onto for long.
I tell myself to keep breathing, and to keep fighting, but the same question keeps popping up in my mind—why should I?
What’s left when the person that held me together is gone?
My mom? Dead. Dad? Might as well be. Emris?
Dead. There’s no one left. No one cares whether I’m okay or not.
Maybe Carson, but he probably has no clue what happened.
I know I should feel something more—rage, sorrow, anything that reminds me I’m alive—but all I get is painful silence. A stretching emptiness where my heart used to be.
I don’t like the drugs they give me. I hate that they take any choice away from me.
But at least with the drugs running through me, I can go to a faraway place to be with Emris, where we can be together without any of the bullshit we’ve had to face.
There’s no pain there. Only us. But as my body wracks with withdrawal, I wish for death.
I wish for all this pain and suffering to end, but I don’t get that.
Instead, Susie’s face comes into view. She brings pain and anger whenever she’s around—but also the drugs that will take me to Emris.
I’m taken to the same bathroom I went to when I first got here.
“Wash yourself and get clean. Don’t forget to clean that dirty pussy.” The guard snickers. “And hurry the fuck up, nasty slut.”
He said something else, but I’ve already checked out as I wash my hair and body.
The feeling of the warm water melts away some of the soreness in my bones from sleeping on that thin mattress that barely qualifies as a bed.
The water running off me is gross. Dirt and grime wash away, leaving behind clean skin once again, minus the bruises and cuts that haven’t yet healed.
After I’m done, I stand there and let the water wash over me, not wanting it to end—but when something hits me in the side, I fall to the ground only for the pain to come again.
“I told you once to hurry up. Let’s not make the same mistake again,” he says, pulling me up by my arm and dragging me upward, crowding me to the wall.
No one else is in here as he pushes my naked, wet body up against the wall.
“But then again, I like causing a pretty little thing like you some pain,” he whispers, pressing his erection into my stomach.
I turn my head away when he tries to press his lips to mine, which pisses him off more.
His hand wraps around my throat and lifts me off the floor, only the tips of my toes able to touch the ground. My nails dig into his arm as I try to pry him off, but it doesn’t do anything. He only tightens his grip and rubs himself against me.
“You’re going to learn how to behave and give me what I want.” Stars dance in front of my eyes moments before he loosens his hold so I can get air in my lungs.
He sneaks his hand in between my legs and squeezes me, causing me to whimper in pain—but it only seems to spur him on.
“Fuck, you’re a tight one. The tightest one I’ve felt in a long time,” he grunts as he shoves a finger inside me. I’m bone dry, and it fucking hurts. My hands press against his chest as I push, but he doesn’t budge.
If I can manage to get away from him, I have a small chance of getting the hell out of here. There’s no other guard around. All I have to do is get away and try to knock him out.
The monster growing inside me begs for his death, and deep down I know I want to give in and kill this bastard.
Anger washes over me, and I manage to bring my fist up to collide with his nose with the last of my strength.
When he pulls his hand away to cup his face, I don’t waste any time.
I grab his gun from his belt, and hold it up and take aim.
The only time I’ve shot a gun was back at the hotel, and I didn’t have much of a good aim, but this is different—this is my one chance at freedom.
“Okay, let’s calm down. Give me the gun,” he says, trying to reason with me, but I don’t hear anything else out of his mouth.
He touched me without my permission, and he deserves to die. Not just for me, but for whoever came before me. I focus on my breathing, and ghost my finger to the trigger.
The sound of a door slamming close by breaks my concentration for a split second, and the guard takes that chance to lunge for me.
I don’t think. My hand grips the gun harder, and I press the trigger.
The bullet pierces through his stomach, and seconds later, blood leaks from his mouth as he crashes to his knees.
I-I shot him.
Oh god.
My hands shake, my eyes watching the blood pool all over the floor, mixing with the shower water. My stomach rolls, and I run to a toilet on the other side of the bathroom, barely making it before everything comes up.
All the blood.
I’ll never be able to erase that from my mind. But I can’t stop now. I have to get out of here, or it’ll have been for no reason.
I stand on shaky legs and run to the door, trying not to look at the guard who’s dying on the shower floor. I didn’t realize the tears leaking down my face as I pull open the door.
The hallway is dark, not a soul in sight, which is concerning since I fired a gun.
It’s either no one is down here, or enough guns go off they don’t think anything of it.
The floor is cold against my feet, and the wall is rough as I keep a hand on it as I make my way farther down the hall.
I have no idea where I am, but there are no windows, so I think it’s safe to assume we are still underground—meaning I need to find the stairs without being seen.
I pass a few doors but don’t bother with them, not knowing what might be on the other side—women who are chained or men who won’t be happy with me trying to escape.
After a few minutes of creeping down the hall, I find the stairs. I can see a light shining through the small window, and my chest fills with excitement.
I’m getting the fuck out of here.
I race up each step. Freedom is right there.
When the door is open, I run right into something hard.
No. Someone.
“Oh,” Peter says, gripping my shoulders. “Well, you shouldn’t be up here.” He looks confused for a second as he takes in my body, blood splattered on it from the guard.
“Did you do something bad, Brielle?” Peter studies me, a glint in his eyes as if he hopes I did. My mouth goes dry, and I attempt to take a step back, but he keeps a tight grip on me.
“Bad girls need to face the consequences of their actions if so.” I try my hardest to get out of his hold, but he doesn’t budge.
“Troy. Come here, please,” Peter yells, and seconds later Troy’s face comes into view.
“Please go check the bathroom. The girls being sold at the auction tonight should’ve been bathed and prepared, but this one is all alone.”
Troy walks past us, but not without smiling down at me. I wish it were him I killed instead. Peter doesn’t say anything as we stand there waiting for Troy.
Peter won’t be happy, and now I’m outnumbered. I should have taken the gun. The gun could’ve saved me. Why did I drop it?
The sound of boots on the stairs behind me hit my ears moments before Troy reports back.
“One dead in the bathroom. The rest of the girls are currently being prepared.” Troy keeps his body pressed against my backside. If they don’t fucking move, Peter will be wearing whatever is left in my stomach.
“So, you killed one of my guards?” Peter says, his voice bordering on excitement. “Well, I guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson on what happens when you misbehave.” A sickening smile takes over his face, and I know he’s happy I killed his guard.
Because now he gets to hurt me.
All I can hope is he makes it quick as Troy holds out another needle.
Finally, peace.