Chapter 10
Anika
Another night. Another round of drugs. Another rape. A sandwich is tossed on the floor once again with a bottle of water. One for me, one for Patch. Why are they feeding us? Why are they keeping us alive? What’s the point?
I take the water and check it over with my hands as Patch told me to. Just to make sure they didn’t put anything in it. Not that it matters with the amount of drugs that they’ve been pumping into us.
My hands shake as I unscrew the cap and bring it to my lips. I take a small sip before recapping it and setting it by my feet. Then I grab the sandwich, not caring if it’s drugged. My stomach growls loudly as I take a small bite.
“Fuckin’ cheese,” Patch mumbles. “They feed us like fuckin’ animals.”
“They want us weak,” I tell him, reminding him of what he told me.
“I know. Drink your water slowly,” he says. I nod my head, knowing it’s the only one we’re going to get today. We get fed what I can figure as midday, judging by the light that filters through the small window.
“I am.”
“Good girl,” he says softly.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m gettin’ better,” he says, but I know he’s lying. Every time they come down here, they beat the shit out of him. There have been a few different guys who have come down the last few times.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” I tell him. I don’t need the lies, I need the truth. The truth that we’re never getting out of here.
“I should be askin’ you that.”
“You keep me sane,” I admit to him. Every time they touch me, hurt me, I look to him. I can see something in his eyes. I can feel him in my soul, and it calms me.
“I wish I could do more than that,” he admits, and it breaks my goddamn heart. I wish he could do more, too, but that’s the best there is right now.
I let the silence linger between us when the door to the basement opens again. I know what’s coming next. I know what this is, I know what to expect now.
I swallow hard even though my throat is dry. The man comes into view, and I cringe. He smirks at me before unhooking one of my wrists and pulling me to my feet. This is new. This hasn’t happened before.
My legs are weak from not standing and wobbly as he drags me toward a table in the middle of the room.
“What the fuck are you doin’ with her?” Patch growls. The man doesn’t say a word as he shoves me down onto my stomach on the table. My heart beats faster in my chest as my hands are then cuffed around another post at the head of the table. It’s almost like they made the table this way.
The man walks off, and I can hear Patch groan as what sounds like a fist hits him. Then I hear the jingle of the cuffs and wonder what the hell is happening. I don’t dare look over my shoulder to find out.
After a second, a hard body lands on top of me, knocking the air from my lungs. Then another set of hands is cuffed next to mine.
“It’s your turn,” the man says as I realize it’s Patch on top of me.
“I won’t fuckin’ do it,” he growls, his lips so close to my ear. He’s heavy on top of me, and I can’t move.
“You’re going to fuck her,” the man demands.
“No, the fuck I’m not,” Patch argues. That’s when everything shifts. Patch’s body is still on top of me, but I feel something pressing into my flesh. Then a stabbing feeling comes, and pain races through my body. I scream.
“What the hell are you doin’ to her?” Patch yells as the man laughs.
“Fuck her, or I keep going.” Pain shatters my body as what I assume is a knife jams into my side once more. I cry out in pain as Patch shifts to try to move. There’s nowhere for him to go.
“Just do it,” I cry.
“No. I won’t fuckin’ rape you,” he growls.
“Please, Patch,” I beg him. I can’t handle being stabbed again. It’s too much. He has to do whatever the hell they want him to do. I can’t handle this, can’t bear this pain.
“Fuck,” he whispers near my ear. “I’m sorry.” The man laughs as I feel Patch getting hard. The man moves to pull Patch’s pants down, and that’s it.
“Lift your ass for him,” the man says. I do as I’m told, lifting my bottom half so Patch can slide inside me.
I close my eyes this time, listening to the sound of Patch’s voice as he whispers in my ear.
He keeps repeating the words, I’m sorry over and over again.
It breaks my heart. It kills a piece inside me that they’re forcing him to do this.
When I open my eyes, I see the motherfucker is recording this.
I clench my eyes shut as tears leak down my cheeks.
If it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s Patch.
I didn’t want them touching me. I don’t think I could handle it anymore.
Just thinking about them causes bile to burn the back of my throat.
“Come on. Fucking fuck her good,” the man yells. Patch picks up his pace, knowing what he’ll do if he doesn’t. Before I know it, it’s all over, and the man is laughing once again.
“That’s all you got?” he asks Patch. I open my eyes to see him getting a syringe and coming toward us.
The needle goes above me, no doubt into Patch.
After a second, his body goes limp against mine.
I didn’t realize just how much he was doing to keep his body weight off me until now.
It feels like I’m suffocating when his hands are uncuffed, and he’s pulled off me.
I hear the scuffle as he’s taken back to his place on the floor.
Then the man’s back to me. His finger is running along my spine.
“He wasn’t nearly as good as me was he?” he asks. Vomit chokes me. I want to throw up. I want to crawl into a hole and die, but instead, I shake my head so I won’t be on the receiving end of his knife again.
His fingers come up to my side, pressing into one of the wounds, causing me to scream in pain.
“Please!” I scream as he goes in deeper. I can feel the warmth of my blood as it drips down my flesh. My stomach churns, and vomit sprays from my mouth. The man steps back, his fingers leaving me, and I can’t thank God enough for that.
My hands are uncuffed before I’m dragged off the table. I try to force my legs to work, but they don’t want to. My feet scuff the floor as I’m dragged back to my spot and re-cuffed to the post. Then he leans down and grabs my face in his hand.
“Next time we’ll see if you can take two cocks,” he taunts, making me sick to my stomach.
I cringe, but he just laughs. He walks away, and I wait.
I wait for the drugs that will slowly numb it all, but they never come.
The basement door slams as I cry once more.
My heart drops in my chest as I look over at Patch.
He’s passed out, drool dripping down his chin.
Tears pool in my eyes as I sit here and contemplate what else they could do to us.
I don’t want to die here. And I think that and Patch are the only reasons I’m still alive.