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Bea

T horne’s face looked like raw burger meat. He’d finally— finally —lost consciousness, which meant he’d stopped laughing. The man had kept it on for a long time—longer than she would have imagined possible. And the harder he laughed, the more riled up Emiliano got, and the harder he hit him.

At some point, Roberts had left the container. He seemed to be worried about something—perhaps about the noise Emiliano was making, or the fact that her uncle seemed to be coming unstuck. Perhaps the sour, metallic stench to the air was more than he could bear.

Bea had done her best to hold on to hope, but so far nobody had come and it was getting harder and harder to stay hopeful. If this kept going, Bea knew soon she and Emiliano would be the only living people left. She couldn’t let that happen.

Her uncle turned away from Thorne and strode towards her. Bea couldn’t keep her eyes away from his swollen, red, bloody knuckles.

“Ah,” said Emiliano. “I feel good. Invigorated. The only thing that will make me feel better is a hard fuck.”

Bea shrank back against her chair, but she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m not going to be able to be careful, mi flor ,” he said, grabbing his crotch lasciviously. “I’m going to show you how whores are fucked.”

The knife appeared in his hand as if by magic. She screamed as he flicked it open, the sound muffled by the duct tape over her mouth. The blade sliced once, twice, in quick succession. Before she could comprehend the fact that her hands were free, she was flying, draped over her uncle’s thick, meaty shoulder. She took the chance to rip off the duct tape. It should hurt, but she barely even felt it.

The breath left her lungs all at once as he threw her onto the filthy-looking, velvet couch in the corner. She lay there, stunned, until some animal instinct kicked in and she scrambled backwards. She was almost off the couch when her uncle’s hand grabbed hold of her knees, holding her in place.

He spread her legs open, his hands bruising on her inner thighs.

“No!” she screamed. “Help!” Even though she knew it was hopeless, she kicked with all her strength. Whatever happened, she needed to know she’d fought as hard as she could.

Tears rolled her cheeks, mixing with the snot coming out of her nose. So this is how it happens.

Her uncle’s hand reached the apex between her thighs—then stopped.

“What the fuck’s going on, Roberts?” he growled. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

It took Bea an instant to realize he wasn’t talking to her, but to whoever was knocking on the door.