Page 22

22

LAVINIA

The straitjacket becomes an intimate, unwanted friend during the next few days.

So do the drugs.

Dorin keeps me in a lethargic daze all day, all night, strapped in the straitjacket and drugged up, unable to move, unable to think, and barely able to speak.

“I hate you,” I tell him in a slurred voice every time he comes into my cell.

“Shh,” he simply soothes, stroking my hair out of my face or pulling me up to sit against him so he can feed me.

When I beg him not to drug me again or tell him that my arms are hurting from being trapped in the same position for so long, he simply strokes me again and says, “It’s for your own good. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

There’s no possible way I can.

I feel so weak I can barely turn on the mattress most of the time.

The drugs rarely get to wear off enough to give me a clear head before he comes and shoots me up with more sedative.

One day when my head does clear enough to remember all the horrors I learned before he plunged my world into a meaningless haze, I ask him about this place of terrors and torment.

“Where am I? Tell me the truth.”

He remains silent as he opens the straitjacket and helps me out of it, hoists me into his arms, and brings me out of the cell.

“An old castle that’s been renovated to fit another purpose. Or maybe to once again fit its original one. No one really knows what this dungeon was used for.”

“Selling women? Is that what you do down here?”

“We train and sell them, yes.” He carries me across the hall, and the scanner on the door beeps as it registers his finger.

“How can you even—” I shut my eyes and gulp to swallow the bitterness lodged in my throat.

“How can you do such a thing?”

He shrugs.

“There’s not much else I know how to do.”

“But—” I trail my gaze over his long scar and empty expression.

There’s no use in asking how he can do the despicable things he does and still live with himself.

The real question is, why hasn’t he sold me yet?

Or why hasn’t he done more to train me?

Those last two questions only become more confounding as he lowers me into a tub full of hot water and I look around to see that we’re in a cozy bathroom—shelves on the walls, plants on the counter, and a beautiful chandelier bathing the room in a soft light.

“Why?” I choke out, blinking to hold back the tears forming in my eyes.

Crouching beside me, Dorin brushes the tears from the sides of my eyes.

“Let them out.”

I close my eyes hard and ask the question that’s most pressing—the one I’ve been postponing asking, too afraid to know the answer.

The one that threatens to break the dam that I refuse to show him again.

“Are you gonna sell me?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation.

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“To who?”

“I don’t know.”

Everything inside me coils tight, squeezing my chest and making breathing hurt—making living hurt.

“Please kill me,” I say, facing him again even though the tears are now pooling in my eyes.

“Please, just do it. Or let me do it myself. Just leave your knife here and leave the room. I promise I’ll go through with it this time. I won’t even make a mess. I’ll hold my wrist underwater. All the blood will remain in the tub.”

Shaking his head, he grabs a sponge and starts washing me.

“Stop. Don’t touch me.” I push at his hand, but I’m still weak, barely managing to put any strength into the movement.

“Just let me take care of you,” he says, continuing the slow motions over my stomach.

“No!” I plunge down, under the water, and grab the edges of the tub for leverage.

If he won’t end it or let me do it myself, the water can take me.

But once again, I’m too weak.

I don’t even get to decide whether I take or continue my own life anymore.

He simply grabs me under the arms and pulls me back up.

I flail weakly as he holds me there, one arm banded around my chest as he removes his boots and jeans.

The moment he releases me to pull off his T-shirt, I slip under again, but the few seconds it takes him to discard it isn’t even enough to make me feel out of air.

Next thing I know, he’s in the tub with me, stark naked, pulling me into him and trapping me against his body with one massive arm that keeps my arms locked at my sides.

I kick in the water, but he simply wraps his legs over mine, and when I start banging my head into his shoulder, he presses his free hand to my forehead.

And that’s it.

I’m trapped.

Yet I keep struggling, using up what little energy I have left.

Once I’ve worn myself out and go limp against him, panting hard, he releases my forehead and grabs the sponge again.

“Please,” I beg in a weak voice.

“Shh, just let me take care of you.”

It’s all so very hopeless, and I can’t stop the tears from trickling down my cheeks.

I manage not to make any sounds, but I’m sure he can tell from my shaking chest that I’m crying.

I know for sure when he leans in to press tiny kisses to my cheek, absorbing the tears as he goes.

The intimacy makes the tears flow faster, dripping into the water.

“That’s it. Give them all to me. Cry for me, my little songbird,” he whispers, reminding me of how Zoltan wanted my tears.

The memory gives me the strength to shut them down.

I curl in on myself, closing off everything.

It takes all I have, leaving me cold, alone, and broken.

All I want to do is give in to that gentle touch and those tender kisses—release all the heavy burdens and let him carry them for me.

But I can’t.

Dorin is just another monster who wants to take everything I have and destroy me.

I refuse to give it to him.

***

The days blur together, and my moments of clarity are far apart.

I have no idea how long time passes in this stagnant haze.

All I know is Dorin coming and going, feeding me, bathing me, drugging me, and restraining me.

He’s comforting and caressing me too—I think he might even be touching me sexually and making me come, but I’m never sure whether it’s a dream or reality.

I always shut him out when my head is clear enough to think, and no matter the amount of drugs he gives me, I never break down in front of him.

As I lie in my cell, slowly coming out of a haze, waiting for him to come and bring me into a new one, I remember that I haven’t even sung for a long while.

I’m not even sure I can muster the muscular strength to do so.

Parting my lips, I want to try.

But then again, what’s the point?

It doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing does.

A sliding sound at the door breaks into my consciousness.

Finally, he’s here to numb my brain and make me forget.

But the door doesn’t open.

Instead, there’s a tap.

Then another one, a bit louder.

I lift my head to look, blinking to focus my blurry gaze.

The hatch is open, and there’s someone on the other side, looking in.

At first, I don’t understand.

But then recognition strikes as the head moves back a bit and I see the muzzle.

It’s the girl with the tattoo.

The one who used to come here often, but hasn’t been here for a while.

She lifts her hand and waves.

Slowly, I push up to sit, then put in all my strength to get to my feet and stagger to the door, all but collapsing against it.

“Did you know?” I ask, leaning my head into her hand as she reaches in to stroke my cheek.

“That we’re all just sex slaves? That they’ll sell us?”

She nods, and her answer is like a stab in the back.

But then I remember that she can’t speak.

She never could tell me the truth.

So I shove the thought away and stare off into the distance as I soak up her comfort—the only friend I have.

“I thought he saved me.” My heart breaks all over again as I remember how Dorin took me from the bloody tub, brought me here, and “cared” for me, only to have my world crash in the cruelest way possible.

“I actually thought I had found someone who wanted to help me. Genuinely.” A tiny laugh erupts from my mouth.

The irony of it all.

“How stupid was I? Now he keeps me drugged up and locked in this jacket, afraid I’ll hurt myself.” I glance into the cell—the padded walls and the lonely mattress.

“How am I supposed to do that in here?”

I remember that I actually managed to do some damage, and a small sense of pride rolls through me.

But it quickly drowns in the defeat of it all.

There’s no way to win here.

It’s all one slow, agonizing descent into a hell that will surely be worse than any of the previous I’ve known.

The quiet girl reaches her hand farther in to get better access to my face, stroking my cheeks and temples and down the sides of my neck.

It’s the best thing I’ve felt for a long time—or maybe not quite, but all the other comfort I’ve had has come with a severe dish of hatred and deceit so stark I could barely breathe.

Tears form in my eyes and drip down my cheeks.

For once, I don’t try to stop them.

But they don’t escalate either.

I guess I’m still too drugged up.

We stand there for a long time, wrapped in the silence, connected by the bleak despair.

The world seems to stop, and I find the closest thing to peace I’ve felt in a while.

But then, in an instant, everything changes.

She draws back with a jerk, leaving me alone and forlorn.

The hatch slams shut, and the quietness becomes stifling.

Leaning my forehead against the door, I heave a shuddery breath as loneliness wraps around my lungs.

The silence only lasts a minute, and the loneliness drowns in dread as I hear heavy steps approach.

Please don’t let it be Dorin, please don’t let it be Dorin, is all I can think.

Somehow, I just know he’ll react worse than anyone else to find out she has been sneaking through the halls to see me.

Pressing a hand to my mouth, I block a gasp at the sound of Dorin’s angry voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?” There’s a moment of silence before he adds, “You’re Dax’s girl.” The realization only angers him more, his voice becoming furious as he says, “Is he in there?”

My heart is like a jackhammer beating through the quiet space as I wait for him to continue.

“Then why the hell are you here? Have you bothered her? Have you opened the hatch?”

The beep of the lock mechanism startles me.

Before I can react, the door flies open, and I stagger as I lose the support of the padded surface.

My arms strain against the straitjacket as I prepare for the fall, but Dorin catches me just before my legs give in.

A wave of dizziness clouds my vision, and I blink up at him as he holds me to him, grabbing my jaw to study my face.

His expression darkens with a fury that has me shrinking.

With a feral growl, he steadies me on my own two legs and turns to the girl in the muzzle.

“You made her cry.”

A pounding urgency thrums inside my head as I watch him approach her, unclipping a thick baton, which looks like the ones the police carry, from his belt.

“You’ll pay for that,” he snarls, towering over her as she retreats and crumbles to the floor as she hits the wall.

“No, Dorin, stop.”Somehow, I make my legs work enough to rush forward and intercept—stepping right in front of the beast.

“She comforted me,” I say, staring up at him.

It’s only then, seeing the murderous fury in his eyes, that I realize just how reckless a move this is.

Even so, I don’t regret it.

I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I’d hurt her—the only person left that I care about.

“Get back to your cell.” Dorin pushes me aside, aiming his furious gaze at the poor girl who’s huddled up on the ground against the wall, shaking worse than my unsteady legs.

“She helped me,” I implore.

“Please, just leave her be.”

Relief is a brief gust of wind as Dorin turns to me.

Grabbing my arm, he steers me back toward my cell, but only to snap a hook to the back of the straitjacket and connect it to an eye in the wall, rendering me useless and helpless.

“ Don’t fucking bang your head against the wall, or I’ll shoot you up with so many drugs that all you can do is drool out your fucking mouth.”

I’ve never seen him like this.

The anger in his eyes is menacing, the threat in his voice so brutal I forget about the huddling girl for a moment.

Gulping, I nod my understanding.

I don’t think I’d dare to bang my head against the wall even if I thought it would actually kill me before he could stop me.

The world flashes before me as Dorin turns and stalks across the hall, growling, “No one hurts what’s mine.”

Dizziness has me shuffling to stay upright, the hook catching me as I’m about to fall forward.

I fall back against the wall and watch the blurry silhouette of Dorin’s figure lean down toward the scared girl.

I want to scream, but I’m stuck—frozen in place, hyperventilating, and so weak I can barely give voice to any sound.

A jolt of pins and needles has me gasping as a sharp voice cuts through the hall.

“Stop!” someone demands, the sound of hard heels echoing against the walls as someone approaches.

Turning my head, I see a tall figure stop a few feet from Dorin.

My vision finally clears, and I see a sleek, controlled man with sharp features and a trimmed beard, dressed in a black silk shirt and dress pants.

He oozes a kind of quiet, deadly power that has me shuddering as he says with powerful authority, “Don’t touch her.”

To my surprise, Dorin pauses.

“She made my girl cry.”

My eyes fly down to his hand fisted in the girl’s hair and to her frightened eyes.

The vision snaps me out of the haze.

“She didn’t. She didn’t make me cry.” I jerk against the straitjacket, needing to get to her—to stop Dorin, to comfort her.

But the hook holds me in place, and neither man casts me a single glance.

The sleek man, who seems to be the one in charge, makes a call on his phone and fires off a few quick words.

“Cell one, now. It’s your girl.” Then he’s off the phone again, pointing a warning finger at Dorin.

“You’d better not put a single scratch on her. She’s Dax’s girl, and you know the deal.”

Dax.

The name swirls in my brain, wanting me to remember something.

I can’t figure out what before a new voice breaks into the space.

“Get the fuck off her!”

It’s the long-haired man, who came into the medical room the first time Dorin gave me electrotherapy.

His eyes are as murderous as Dorin’s, and a new type of urgency has me pulling to get free as he goes straight for Dorin, fist raised into the air.

Just before he can strike, Dorin releases the cowering girl and steps aside.

The man, who must be Dax, shifts disposition so quickly that it nearly gives me whiplash as he lowers his fist and sinks to the ground, hugging the girl with the muzzle.

That’s when I remember.

Her tattoo.

DAX001.

She belongs to him.

At first, the thought makes horror wash through me, knowing that she’s stuck with someone as cruel as this man must be since he’s part of this place.

But as I watch Dax hold her, checking if she’s okay, asking if Dorin hurt her, it’s clear he cares deeply for her.

I remember the almost peaceful look on her face when she showed me the tattoo—the anger when I thought it was a product of abuse.

I have no idea how this man got her to want him or what illicit methods he used, and as I watch her sink into him, I think it doesn’t matter.

Despite the brutal nature of this place, she’s in a much better place than I’ve been for years, protected and cared for, safe from other men and their brutal intentions.

I flinch as Dorin returns to me.

I expect his face to remain icy with menacing fury, but as I chance a glance up at him, his features are back to the usual impassive expression.

He grabs my face again, this time gently, and studies it.

“Are you okay? What did she do to upset you.”

“No-nothing,” I stammer, the shaking in my body seeping into my voice.

He detaches the straitjacket from the wall and watches me with inspecting eyes as he sweeps my hair off my shoulder, checking my neck, my head, and my face.

My world rattles as he cradles my face between two strong hands and bends his knees to come to my level as he searches my eyes.

His expression remains stiff and hard, but deep within his cold gaze, there’s a fierce protectiveness that makes me want to crumble and sink into him.

I can’t, though.

Averting my gaze, I tighten my muscles as I struggle to shut him out.

When he brushes his knuckles over my cheek, I nearly break.

It hurts to reject him like this, but I need to withstand his warped care.

No matter how badly I want it.

Because I know nothing good will come of it.

No matter how obsessed or possessive he is, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to sell me in the end.