Page 12

12

ADELINA

M y head is killing me.

In all my years of drinking, I’ve been fortunate enough never to get a hangover, but clearly, this is different. As consciousness slowly trickles back into my mind, the pain in my head pulsing in time to my heartbeat is the first thing I latch onto. It’s at the top of my head, spreading down to my forehead, and the thought of opening my eyes fills me with dread.

Can I just go back to sleep?

Surely, that will ease my pain if I just sleep it away. I swallow, and burning pain lances down my throat, highlighting the odd cotton sensation across the top of my tongue. Never mind sleep. I need water.

God, how did I ever make it home? Did I crash at Marie’s?

That makes sense. There’s no way I would have gone home to face Raffaele. As his face enters my mind, a strange sensation creeps across my chest like some kind of fuzzy static. It’s similar to wearing a scratchy sweater that pricks your skin every time you move more than half an inch.

That sensation gives way to a burst of cold and a rush of goosebumps sweep down my arms and legs. My fingers curl against my palm and I try to roll over, seeking out the blanket to cover myself up with so I can go back to sleep and forget the pain.

But I can’t.

Something closes over my wrists and tightens as I try to move my arms. My attempts to move send pain through my shoulders and the fog in my mind begins to clear.

I don’t remember making it home to Marie’s.

I don’t even remember leaving the club.

I try to move my arms again, then I twist my body to try and sit up, but the same kind of tension closes around my ankles and I can’t move my legs either. All of this occurs in just a few seconds and the alarm bells in my mind roar to life. My heart races, increasing the painful pressure in my skull, and I open my eyes.

A dirty white ceiling covered in dots of black mold and questionable yellow stains greets me. I blink, expecting to see the blue of Marie’s bedroom ceiling or even the fancy swirls of Raffaele’s.

Nope, still the dirty white.

My heart leaps up, and the fluttering sensation moves to the center of my chest as if my heart is about to beat right out of my mouth as I slowly take in my surroundings. There’s a single window near the bed I’m bound to, with dirty glass panes that are warped from age. A dirtied net curtain hangs in front of the window along with a singular ripped ash-blue curtain on the left side. A single yellow light bulb hangs from the middle of the ceiling, illuminating the peeling paint, barely hiding the crumbling walls.

I glance around, and a sudden bright white light forces me to close my eyes with a wince and a muted yelp. In the far corner is a bright stage light glaring at me. It’s so bright that looking near it is like staring directly into the sun, adding sharp pain to the dullness already coursing around my throbbing body. My cheek hurts, warm from the impact of a slap that jolts through my memory.

I swallow hard and force my eyes open.

My dress is gone. I’ve been stripped down to my underwear and tied spread-eagle on a mattress that stinks of something so sharp that my nose aches just from breathing it in. Beside the glaring light stand Jim and Geoff, and the night before comes rushing back to me in a painful explosion.

Marie and I were out drinking. We had kept it to cocktails but suddenly, the drinks hit so hard that I couldn’t stand. And Marie passed out after we drank the drinks those men bought us.

They drugged us. They must have.

I’d been careful, I thought.

Not careful enough.

My heart races and a clammy heat skims over my bare skin as I scan the room in search of Marie. She’s nowhere in sight. The only things in the room are me and this shitty bed, Geoff, and Jim, the glaring bright light, and a…

Oh, no.

A camera.

The fear cuts through any lingering fuzziness from the alcohol, curing my hangover faster than any drug ever could, but my thoughts are sluggish as I try to keep the fear down.

I have to get out of here.

Somehow.

How the hell am I going to do that?

Geoff and Jim have their heads together at the camera and are speaking in hushed voices, their words nothing more than a soft hum.

There has to be some kind of mistake, right? I’m not supposed to be here.

“What…” I try to speak, and my raw throat complains sharply, catching the words in my throat. “What’s happening?”

Geoff perks up the moment he hears my voice and he walks closer. As he steps into the bright light, I spot the second handheld camera in his hand and his grin lacks all the warmth it had last night when he was chatting up Marie.

“Look who's awake.”

“What… what are you doing?” I can’t help myself from pulling against the restraints keeping me bound. Each second of restriction sends my heart flying wildly against my ribcage. “What’s happening?”

“Hush,” Geoff instructs.

I can’t. Once I’ve started, I can’t stop. “Please, I don’t know what this is. I don’t know— can you let me go? Please let me go. I don’t want this. Please, please, I don’t?—”

He strikes me so hard across the face that my teeth cut into the inside of my cheek and blood instantly sprays across my tongue. Tears spring into my eyes as my head snaps to the side, and the restraints around my wrists dig in sharply as I try to move away from him.

“No talking,” Geoff mutters. “They don’t want to hear you talk. They want to see what you’ve got. So shut the fuck up, okay? Play nice, act pretty, and maybe we won’t kill you. I’d hate to have to get rid of something as beautiful as you.” His cruel fingers sink into my jaw and force my head back to face him.

His cold expression wobbles through my tears, and I try to breathe, but all I can do is hiccup and sob as my fear reaches dizzying heights. Who is he talking about?

“Besides, if you’re not appealing,” says Jim from where he stands next to the largest camera, “no one will buy you. At least not someone who will treat you nicely. Unless you’re into that kind of thing, in which case, talk away.”

“Sure,” Geoff agrees, digging his finger into my aching cheeks. Pain flares at my jaw joints, and with a whimper of pain, my mouth is forced open. I cough, spraying blood upward. It rolls down from the corner of my mouth, and the tears fall when I blink.

Geoff brings the camera close and digs his fingers harder into my cheeks, forcing my mouth wider. “Look at that. You could fit your cock in there and then some. Maybe two. Throw a party and see how many you could fit.”

“Break her jaw, and you’d never have to worry about those pearly whites causing you issues,” comes Jim’s voice with an amused snort.

Terror grips me like a vise, and a fierce tremble jolts through my body. “Please,” I gasp wetly around his fingers. “I?—”

“Look.” Geoff cuts me off with a dark laugh. “She’s a talker. So she can’t follow simple instructions, but I’m sure someone will have fun breaking you in.” He finally releases my jaw, but his hand moves to my throat and he leans back to give the handheld camera a good view. “Narrow as fuck throat, would fit like a fucking glove. But I know y’all wanna see the real goodies. Anyone with a mouth can give good head with the right motivation, but it’s the decoration that sells.”

Who are they talking to? This has to be some kind of livestream, but the thoughts are bleary through the fear rocking through me.

Geoff pulls away and stands over me on the mattress with a foot on either side of my hips. He holds the camera and starts scanning it down me with a twisted look of glee on his face.

“She’s got nice tits. Not the biggest we’ve ever seen, but still a decent handful. Nice body, and look at those fucking hips.”

The lower he goes, the tighter I clench my body as if just tensing my muscles is enough to save me from the glare of the camera.

I swallow a mouthful of blood, unable to stop myself from shaking as the reality of the situation dawns on me.

I have no clue where I am, which means no one else does either. I snuck away from Raffaele, and now I’m on some sort of display for the highest bidder. This is a nightmare.

A total and complete nightmare.

I close my eyes and the tears flow entirely unhindered. I can’t stop them. I can’t stop shaking, and when Geoff kicks me in the ribs, I can’t prevent the sobs from escaping me.

“Open your eyes, bitch. You’re not dead yet,” he spits.

I have no choice. I comply and find the camera back in my face. “Please,” I gasp. “Don’t do this, I don’t want this. Let me go, please let me go!”

“What do you think, guys? Should we let her go?” Geoff taunts, rocking back and forth with the camera.

“Bids are in,” comes Jim’s voice. “But I know you can do better than that. Show them what she’s really made of.”

“You wanna put on a show, Adelina?” Geoff sneers. “Come on, you were so into it last night.”

“I wasn’t,” I sob. “I wasn’t—this isn’t—no!”

My sobs give way to cries of terror when Geoff grabs the front of my bra and jerks back and forth. Within seconds, the fabric rips and one of the straps snaps. He tears the bra from my body and holds it aloft like some kind of prize while Jim laughs and jeers from the corner. Nausea jolts through my stomach like a molten-hot rod, and I gag on my tears, fighting to roll myself over and hide myself from view.

With the restraints so tight, I can’t go anywhere.

“Nice pair of tits on her,” Geoff says excitedly, and his meaty paw lands on my chest, painfully groping my left breast. “Keep ya entertained for hours. But the real prize?” He drops to his haunches over me and his nails graze down to the hem of my panties.

“No!” I sob, tugging desperately on my bindings and praying to everything and anything that they will snap and release me.

Geoff hooks one finger around my panties and brings the camera in close. “This is the real prize you’re paying for.” He grins.

The door to the room crashes open without warning and a gunshot rings through the air, clear as a bell. Geoff freezes above me for a split second, and our eyes meet through my tears, then blood fountains from his mouth and sprays all over me. Then he collapses forward. His body lands on me, forcing all the air from my lungs.

Blood, hot and sticky, spreads across my body, and I scream in terror as his dead weight pins me down.

“Hey!” Jim yells. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I can’t see anything over the lump of Geoff’s body and my body locks up. My blood turns to ice, and every sticky splash of Geoff’s hot blood sends rolls of utter disgust up my throat. I gag, choking on the urge to vomit while struggling to get enough air in my lungs to do just that.

“Back off,” Jim yells again. “This shit ain’t nothing to do with you. This ain’t your business.”

“The fuck it isn’t my fucking business,” comes a voice so familiar that there’s nothing left to stop me from dissolving into desperate, rapid sobs. “You made this my business the second you drugged and kidnapped my wife!”