Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BLAIR
Never Felt So Alone - Labrinth
Upon waking up, I'm very aware of the hard surface underneath me. It's cold and rough against my bare skin, letting me know I'm no longer in the room from before. The feeling of tightened material against my wrists tells me I’m still in cuffs.
Trying to peel my eyes open, I’m only able to see through one. Lifting my cuffed hands, I reach for my face to assess Lorenzo’s damage. My eye is swollen, causing me to hiss when I touch it. There’s no doubt it’s black and blue.
Using the eye I can still see out of, I look around and observe my new environment. My hands are cuffed, same as before, only now, they’re attached to long chains that connect to the wall. I sit up, the action taking more effort than it normally would and causing a sharp pain in my back and abdomen. Trying to move my body, I find that my ankles are also cuf fed. Panic starts to set in as I try to move my limbs.
No .
No , no, no.
I can’t be trapped here.
This is just fucking great.
Panic fills my body as dread and doom wrap around my heart. I’m never getting out of here. I’ll die in this fucking basement. I’ll die never getting to accomplish everything I wanted from this life.
I’ll die without getting to explore the depths of my feelings for Emmett .
I'll die without seeing my mother again.
So many firsts stolen from me, so many experiences I’ll never get to have.
A single tear makes its way down my cheek as my chest grows tighter. It feels as if every single atom in my body freezes in place as my throat closes and it becomes harder to breathe.
I have been treated as less than a human. As merchandise. Like my life is no longer my own. I am simply something for someone else to possess, use, and destroy. A choked sob ripples through me as my thoughts slink deeper. My body shakes with the force of my cries, making the chains clink with the movement.
Why ?
Why did these monsters choose me to be put through this hell? What was it for, money? Power ? All things that can be taken away in a second, matter more than my life.
My back burns from the lacerations given to me by Lorenz o . My body aches and cramps, the after effects of my miscarriage still running its course. I haven’t gotten proper medical treatment. I haven’t been able to grieve my child because of everything else that’s been thrown my way. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to properly mourn. Tears begin to fall down the sides of my face as I think of what could’ve been.
I wonder the moment it happened, the miscarriage. What exact blow from the guard caused it. I’ve never wished pain or death on anyone in my life, but I hope he dies soon and rots in hell. I place my hands over my womb as I cry harder.
I cry for my child who will never get to see the world and know how much they were loved. I cry for myself and Emmett , the parents who won’t meet their baby. I cry because I know death is knocking on my door and Lorenzo will never be punished. When I’m gone, another young soul will take my place, and the cycle will continue.
Shifting my body, the soreness between my legs jogs my memory of Lorenzo’s intrusion. My weeping continues knowing it’ll happen again and again until I take my last breath. Pretending it’s Emmett and not Lorenzo is such bullshit. I know his touch and nothing or no one can replicate that.
I sob until my throat burns and my lungs ache for air.
Until my good eye has become swollen.
Until I have no more tears left to cry.
My mind drifts off, wondering where he is. I’m sure he’s noticed my disappearance, but he won’t have any idea of where I am. Is he going to be my knight in bloody armor, destroying everything and everyone who dared to keep him apart from his obsession for so long?
I fucking hope so .
I hope he saves me.
But hope is such a fickle thing. I wonder what might kill me first.
My hope, or this hell.
What sounds like footsteps making their way closer to me pulls me from the safety of my thoughts. The only place I can truly feel at peace anymore. The only thing that remains mine and only mine.
Wiping the tears from my bruised cheeks, I pull together any strands of dignity and strength I have left. I refuse to let Lorenzo think he can break me that easily. My features harden as he unlocks the door to my cage and fills the door frame.
I smell the food in his hands before I see it. Not only that but there's a tattered blanket in his hold as well. The piece of fabric could be mistaken as a bath towel. It's so small. My stomach noticed the food first though, because it growls, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Lorenzo smirks at the sound, tossing the tray on the floor.
“ If you can reach it, you can eat. If you can't, then…” He fades off. He doesn't need to finish. If I can't reach it, I don't eat. It's obvious. Anger brews inside me but he opens his mouth again, clearly having more to say. “ I , personally, don't care if you can reach it or not. Dead or alive, a hole is a hole.” His eyes harden as he snarls out his next words.
“ At least if you were dead, I wouldn’t have to deal with your annoying and constant crying.” The air seems to grow thinner around me. He’s fucking sick. Twisted . Demented . I'm in the hands of a complete psychopath.
“ Go on, try to reach it.” I don't fall for his taunts. It’s clear I can’t reach it, the tray is by his feet across the fucking room. I hav en't moved but I know my chains won’t allow me to maneuver that far.
He must see the realization cover my features because a sinister smile begins to spread on his face. “ No ? I know you’re hungry. Why don't I give you something else to eat then?”
Chills run down my body at the innuendo. Is he referring to his dick? If he places that anywhere near my mouth, I will bite it off. He stalks towards me while unzipping his pants. The sound of the zipper's teeth opening overpowers the thumping of my heart in my ears. I press back to the cold wall behind me, hoping that if I press hard enough, I'll somehow blend in. When he reaches me, he tugs down the material of his boxers, and reaches inside, pulling his dick out of his pants.
I’m going to be fucking sick.
If looks could kill, he would be dead right now. Turning my head away, I squeeze my eyes closed, not wanting to see what he's going to do. I realize that was my first mistake when his harsh words cut through the air. “ You will fucking watch as I touch myself while I watch you, whimpering and afraid. You will fucking look or I’ll shove my dick inside you again. The choice is yours.” He snarls, the words hit me in the chest like the whip he took to my back. Each one digs a little deeper past the surface, scaring me.
Neither option is preferred but I don’t truly have the luxury of a choice. Picking the lesser of two evils, I turn my head back in his direction and force my eyes to open. To appease him, I stare directly at the bottom of his shirt. To him, it must look like I'm watching. I can still see the movement below my eyesight but I hope that if I focus hard enough on the threads of his shirt, it'll be less noticeable. That it'll just be a blur.
It doesn't take long for liquid to start spraying on my face and grunts to hit my ears. I shut my eyes and squeeze them as hard as I can. The strained sounds that he releases are just as gross as what he's currently doing to me.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I refuse to open them. Maybe if I don’t look at the damage he has caused I can pretend that it’s not there. That it didn’t happen. As warm liquid drips down my face, I hear his footsteps retreat and the door to my cage clicking shut, letting me know he’s finally left.
I open my eyes to make sure he's gone and my ears aren't playing tricks on me. The sticky substance covering my face drips into my eye, making it sting.
“ Fuck , fuck, fuck!” I whisper-yell. It fucking stings so I quickly rub my eyes, trying to get the warm liquid off my face.
The feeling of his cum on my skin, while I try to clear it from my vision, makes me fucking sick. It’s spreading and rubbing into my flesh, I can’t fucking get rid of it. I gag but continue to use my hands to rub it off. A small drop touches my lips and I can't hold back my reaction.
Bile rises in my throat and I throw up, once again covering myself in my own vomit. At least this time there was nothing in my stomach so it's mainly just acid. My throat burns and my chest hurts with the action as I dry heave. The smell doesn't help either. The force of my body trying to expel nothing, fucking hurts.
When my body stops convulsing and I've become used to the smell, I lean back up and spot the raggedy material. The blanket was left close enough that I can grab it so I do. I cover my body with the scratchy material and allow it to wrap me up in its false sense of security.
To protect me.
Maybe if I hide underneath and remain still long enough the monster won’t notice me, or perhaps they’ll forget I’m even here. At least that's what we believed as kids. If you stay as still as possible under the covers, the monster wouldn’t be able to hurt you.
The only difference is this monster isn't imaginary, and I can’t hide from him.
When I no longer feel like I'm going to expel the acid from my insides, I lay down. I turn my back to the door and face the cement wall. The scratches on the wall make my heart sink. Small rocks line the floor so I pick one up and turn it over in my hand. One corner is sharper than the rest. I rub the pad of my finger over it. The sharp point isn't enough for me to harm myself or Lorenzo .
I lift the small rock to the wall and drag it down, making a tally mark. I repeat the process until the mark is scratched into the cement and then do it again. I'm not sure how long I've been here but maybe this will help me start to keep track.
I continue to make tallies until I've reached five, it’s an estimate but the few days I’ve spent here have felt like years. The tips of my fingers start to bleed as my nails crack from being dragged against the cement. The sound makes me wince, but I keep going. The pain, a distraction from the turmoil surrounding me.
I drop the now bloodied sliver of rock to the ground and tuck my hands in under my chin. Peering up at the tallies, a sense of dread washes over me. I wonder if anyone is coming to save me. I have a strong inkling Emmett will try, but will he be able to find me? Will he succeed?
But I can’t solely bank on someone rescuing me. I need to figure out a way to escape. I have no prior knowledge of the layout of this hell house nor do I even know where the fuck I am. There could be security cameras, and meathead guards at every corner, and with my luck, Lorenzo has friends on the police force to cover up his perverted interests.
I refuse to let my life end here, under his control. I will make it out. I have to, there’s no other option.