Page 27 of Dirty Salvation

This was a big man.

An important man.

"You came. You came to the place and got me out." She said incredulously around a stammer, still not quite believing it. Believing she was out of that nightmare.

"Yeah. I did. Took us all by surprise. Wanna tell me what you were doing there? I've had some crazy fuckin' thoughts while you've been out of it, babe. None of 'em make much damn sense. You were a scared animal, busted up...that doesn't explain anything, except that maybe your man knocks you around some. Do you belong to Hades? to one of his men?"

If she'd had anything in her stomach at all it would have hurled its way out of her mouth. She visibly paled, felt the blood drain out of her face as her belly rebound from revulsion at his question.

"That...man. All those men are fucking disgusting horrifying pigs that need to be euthanized for mankind's sake, do you think any woman would voluntarily be there? That they would put themselves into a sadistic bastard’s hands and be happy about it?" she panted with exertion, though she hadn't moved an inch from where she sat, her feet didn't even reach the floor. She gripped the comforter in two fists, met his steely gaze, watchful of her, making sure she was truthful? how could she adequately convey her disgust, if the one man she vaguely knew a million years ago, would doubt her?

"I would rather eat my own vomit than belong to him. Does that answer your question? I was not his by choice. I was not there by choice. I couldn’t leave. I tried so many times. He took what didn't belong to him and he broke me. I'm fucking broken. I'm broken!I am fucking broken!"

Each time she declared it her voice went up and up, more desperate, consumed in pain.

"He kept me like an animal, worse even. I was his prisoner, the clubs whore-slave, Rider. I didn't want any of it. I triedsomany times insomany ways to escape before I gave up. Does that answer your fucking question now?"

Shame came with tears tracking down her face.

Too much shame she choked on it in great sobbing hiccups, her body shuddered as she curled into her knees holding herself together.

She saw it instantly in his blue eyes.Pity.

The worse of all nouns.

She didn't want his pity or sympathy.

Like they'd been waiting to be tagged in for their turn, every negative emotion burst through her doors. Leaving Zara breathless and vulnerable, scared to death of even her own thoughts. Relief and fear all rolled into one fucked up emotion.

Embarrassment. Anxiety. Humiliation. Isolation. Numb. Lost. Scarred. Desperate. Caged.

The emotional punches kept on coming as she rocked herself.

Deflated from the burst of energy she lifted her head, looking over at Rider through dirty strands of hair. He hadn't moved, nor taken his eyes off her.

"He kept you a fuckin' hostage? Zara! That cocksucker kept you as his goddamn motherfuckin' hostage?RAPING YOU? BEATING YOU?" He growled viciously baring his teeth, growing louder by the second until her ears hurt, eyes wild and wide, he jacked up so fast to his feet she was taken aback by the sheer volume of the man filling the small room, he'd taken a step forward, and without thinking she flinched away, protecting her face with both hands intuitively. She could take punches to the body, but it hurt worse on the face.

"Please. Don't." She begged in a tiny voice, folding in on herself. The stutter of her heart increasing as fear came with a vengeance.Bam, I'm back, bitch, it seemed to claim.

Fear never went away, not even for a second. It was instinct to beg, to dread a fist flying at her and she hated that instinct. This wasn't her, this wasn't who she used to be, terrified of all men for their filthy hunger, disgusting behavior. It came automatically before she could stop it.

"Fuckin' hell, Zara. I'm not going to hurt you.Fuck. Jesus. Babe. Not ever gonna hurt you. What was done to you, babe...shit. I'm not gonna harm you. No one is going to hurt you here. You got my word on that."

He'd backed up, sitting again in the brown leather armchair, though Zara felt the weight of his stare.

A deadly man.

She'd be a fool to believe anything he said. To want to believe his word. She had no reason to. Trust no one, was her motto and she stuck to it.

It was not his fault she was projecting her fears of others onto him, but she didn't know him.

He saved me. Brought me out of Hell.

How many more days would she have lived for? not many, she reasoned. And that was because she'd been having dark thoughts lately of ending it all, she couldn't foresee that kind of existence going on a day longer, she was beat down so broken from the mental torture, she'd hated that the most, it would have driven her mad eventually, as it was, she was already slightly unhinged, wringing her fingers together, she'd even planned it out, how she'd do it.

It was easy enough to manoeuvre around their kitchen, they thought she was deeply controllable now, a good little dog to wag tail when they cackled evilly, that she would cook and clean on command, she had access to knives. She'd dreamed for nights and nights of bleeding out, how it would feel, that state of euphoria as the last drop left her body and she was welcomed into eternal oblivion, never to be hurt ever again.

She dreamed it, craved it until the thought of death was all she tasted on her tongue, wanted it more than anything. Only Angela's arrival unexpectedly had stopped her suicidal plans.