Page 23

Chapter 22

Apollo

Desperately trying to catch my breath, I lie on my back, staring at the glistening ceiling above the platform. The voices surrounding me sound muffled and distant, even though the people are right there. Several sit around the suspended bed in the middle of the stage, and three others are recovering after finishing up with me.

At least my work for today is over. These important and very demanding new business partners, as Jasper called them, seem satisfied after being shown all the things they can do to my body, both pleasure and pain. Mostly pain.

I close my eyes, still trying to push aside those memories and recalling the way Kobe made me feel instead. But it keeps slipping away from me. That peaceful, intimate feeling is fading faster and faster with each bitter touch.

As I roll my head to the side, convincing myself to get up, I notice one of the guys who fucked me is wiping his cock into the satin sheet. I don’t know why it hits me that much, but suddenly I feel disgusting and dirty and need to get away.

Pulling myself up, I try to avoid their sleazy glances. They seemed pleased with the spectacle, the performance, so that’s my job done. With a thin blanket wrapped around me, I stumble through the crowd toward the backrooms and the showers. No one else is here. Sadie and the others went home, since the Dollhouse has been booked for these business partners’ private enjoyment of me.

‘Business partners.’ Tsk…

I let the water drum against my back while desperately fighting the urge to throw up. Jasper didn’t even care to tell me, but I know who they were. The traffickers. Everyone’s been whispering about it. None of the dolls like this new alliance. It’s…too much. Too far. But what is anyone to do about it? Not even I dare to voice any disagreement to Jasper, because there’s no point. I’m not in charge. I have no power.

Usually, that wouldn’t bother me. It’s what I’ve been used to since pretty much as early as I could remember. So why can’t I silence my thoughts about it now?

With a disgruntled sigh, I start cleaning myself. They definitely weren’t gentle with me. My ass aches. My insides ache. I want nothing more than to go home, put on some comfortable clothes and sleep.

I yelp at the sound of the door behind me opening. No one was supposed to be here, so I didn’t even lock it.

Jasper leans against the frame, peeking in with an amused smirk. “Funny that you still do that,” he says in a response to me covering my privates with my hands.

I frown and roll my eyes at him. “You scared me,” I mutter and turn to continue washing off the soap.

“You’ve been here for god knows how long. Had to make sure you didn’t drown.”

It feels like I just got here. “Oh. Sorry. Must’ve lost track of time.”

He snorts. “Hurry, we’re going home.”

Home. Yes. I want to be home.

I finish up quickly and throw on some random clothes I have lying around my wardrobe. When we reach the car, Jasper walks to the back with me, which means Kobe is driving us. I get all nervous and excited at the same time.

Sure, I look like crap and I hate that, but I haven’t talked to Kobe since I helped him with his heat. Since we had that…moment.

As soon as I sit down, I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. He waits for me, his gaze as tender as it was after we ended up in each other’s arms. It puts a stupid smile on my face.

Jasper notices.

I see his jaw muscles clench in my peripheral and quickly glance at him. The second I do, his expression softens, and he flashes me a smile like nothing happened. He pulls me in for a kiss. I worry he’ll try to pull the same fucked up performance he did before, but he doesn’t.

The rest of our ride home is uneventful and quiet.

I take care to not give Kobe even a goodbye look before I leave the car, no matter how much I want to. A fight with Jasper is the last thing I need tonight. All I can do is imagine Kobe’s faint smirk and recall the warmth of his touch as I walk up the stairs.

Jasper enters first, holding the door open for me. As he turns on the lights, I can’t help but compare what I see to Kobe’s home. I don’t know why. I barely saw any of it in the brief time I was there, and yet it stands in a stark contrast to what is in front of me now.

His place was lived in. Filled with so many little things. Cute homely clutter. The couch in his living room looked like it’s been dragged from apartment to apartment, reused and loved, marked with years of spilled cereals and accidents with ice cream on movie nights.

I look around me, and all I see is spotless. Perfect .

I always wanted a place like this. Instead of a tiny, stuffy room smelling of cigarette smoke that had cockroaches lurking in every nook and cranny, I’ve dreamed of an airy, modern home with large windows and brand new everything.

That’s exactly what I have. I should be happy, grateful. Fulfilled. Only…there’s nothing more to it. The paintings with gilded frames hanging on the walls mean nothing. They were expensive and they show status. That’s it. There’s no story or passion behind them. The sleek, sparkly kitchen has state-of-the-art appliances, but they’re worthless if we never spend our mornings there together eating breakfast and laughing.

And even if he never would use it against me, I can’t forget that this place isn’t truly mine. It’s Jasper’s. It was his before I moved in. In one way or another, I’ve always felt like a visitor in this lovely dream, always unsure when it would be ripped away from me.

A strange sense of melancholy envelopes me.

Why do I feel like this? It must be because I'm tired.

“Hey,” Jasper’s voice pulls me back into the moment. He stands in front of me, gently pulling at my chin to face him. “What is it?” he asks, brows drawn together.

“Sorry. I was just— Today was a lot,” I mutter weakly, hoping he understands.

Humming, he moves in closer, wrapping his hand around my waist as he kisses me on the neck. I notice in his movements that he’s hiding something in his other hand, so I pull away with a confused smirk. Jasper already has that boastful expression on his face he always does before giving me a gift.

He reveals a small jewelry box and hands it to me while still caressing my hip. “This should make you feel a little better, then,” he says, voice dripping with honey.

The rectangular box feels like velvet. Smiling softly, I touch the edge, and the unfamiliar branding on top, before opening it. Inside sits a beautifully displayed golden bracelet with my name. The diamonds filling every letter sparkle in front of me and reflect light in all directions.

“Wow,” I whisper, running the tips of my fingers across it. I never was one for jewelry, but it’s always been a sign of wealth to me. All those rich men who bought me had expensive golden watches and rings and chains. They would sometimes ask me which necklace to buy for their wives and I struggled to even comprehend the amount when they told me the prices they were looking at. “Thank you, Jaz,” I blurt, nearly forgetting to react.

He smiles proudly. “They’re genuine diamonds,” Jasper says, kissing me again.

“I heard they make little kids mine for those… Apparently you can grow identical ones in the lab,” I mutter, almost thoughtlessly, without really considering how ungrateful it might sound. Fearing his response, I blink and meet his eyes. Thankfully, Jasper only gives me a brief frown before taking the box out of my hands and putting the bracelet on my wrist.

“Suits you either way,” he whispers into my ear, placing more and more kisses down it, heading for my collarbone. What felt like small marks of affection is turning into what my body knows will be something more. Something purely physical. My lungs constrict and my stomach clenches as the discomfort and guilt mix inside my gut.

I’m tired. I told him I’m tired, but he just gave me this gift… What kind of asshole would I be to refuse him?

Jasper squeezes my ass and reaches for a kiss with that possessive, ravenous hunger in his gaze and I…recoil. Completely unintentionally and subconsciously, I recoil.

The regret floods me instantly, laced potently with fear. He sharply moves away when I try to reach for him and apologize, flashing me a frustrated glare. “What is it now?” he asks, visibly struggling not to roll his eyes.

Cold sweat runs down my back. ‘You fucked up,’ the warning voice sounds at the back of my head. ‘You made a mistake and now you’ll pay for it.’

“N-nothing, I’m just tired. I—”

He slaps my hand away before I can touch his cheek, leaving a burning sensation behind. “You’re a shit liar, Apollo,” he spits out, teeth clenched.

I don’t have the energy for this. My god , I desperately want some damn peace and rest.

“I’m just…I’m just nervous and on edge around all this violence I keep hearing about. Feels like things are going in a…bad direction,” I say softly, knowing damn well my opinion doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have one when it comes to this, to his work, as Jasper loves to remind me. But he asked what was wrong. “I’m worried about you,” I finally admit, hoping my honesty can reach through to him. “The things that are happening… It isn’t like the man I met.”

He gives no fiery response so I get brave, stepping closer and carefully taking his hands into mine. Glaring at me without a word, he lets me. Maybe now is the right time to voice my concerns. Maybe he will listen for once.

“I’m scared that this power and violence are corrupting you somehow. Changing you for…for the worse. Maybe you need to slow down just a little.”

His cruel laughter is like a cold shard of ice passing through my heart. Widening my eyes, I watch him grin broadly at me as if I just told some hilarious joke. “Oh, Apollo… You goddamn moron. That’s exactly the man you met.”

My lungs refused to work. It feels like I am staring down the barrel of that gun again.

With a swift motion, he twists my hands so that it’s his grip over my wrists instead of the other way around. “It’s fucking hilarious, really. How you think that I’m some kind of monster. Some unleashed, rabid dog, while your sweet little omega boy-toy is a saint.”

I wince at the mention of Kobe. “Why are you bringing him into this?” I blurt, frustration building up inside me. “He’s nothing to me, he—”

“Because I’m fucking right! Aren’t I?” he raises his voice with that sharp question, tugging at my arms. I shake my head while the tears create growing pressure behind my eyes.

No, he…he’s wrong. He…

Kobe is better than him. He isn’t the same.

Almost like he can read my thoughts, like he has some terrifying ability to peer into my mind, Jasper lets go of me with a furious grunt. “Fuck it. Think whatever you want.” He throws the box into the room and heads for the door.

My heart leaps. “Where are you going?”

“If you’re allowed to fuck someone else whenever and wherever you want, so am I. You don’t wanna touch me, so I’ll get somebody who does, and who hasn’t been passed around all night like a blow-up doll.”

I jerk at the sound of the door slamming behind him. Drawing slow, ragged breaths, I stare ahead, feeling his words echo through me. There have been only a few times he’s used this against me. And he knows…he knows saying that—him saying that of all people—hurts me deeply. He knows it makes me feel worthless. And yet, instead of falling into that pit of despair and disgust like I usually would, just like his attack intended, I close my eyes and remember Kobe calling my name.

“Do you ever think about leaving this life?”

His question resonates through me. Backing slowly until I reach the couch, I lean against it and blankly stare at the floor. For the first time since we got together, I genuinely, honestly, try to imagine what my life would be if I left Jasper. What it could be.

An inconceivable idea to me from a few months ago. Now…I can’t stop wondering if a reality like that is possible.

?

Jasper doesn’t come home that night. Later the next day, he sends some fresh face that I barely know to pick me up for work.

I send a few messages apologizing throughout the evening. After all, since I woke up, the adventurous, brave spirit of considering my options is nowhere to be found. Maybe it was nothing but my brain running on fumes, delirious and exhausted, that made me believe I could leave.

Because I truly can’t .

Even if I wanted to, Jasper would never allow it. I’ve known that since the moment he looked at me when we first made love like lovers and said I was his omega. I knew then that he claimed me and was never gonna let go. Back then, I found it romantic…not yet fully realizing how deep that sense of possessiveness actually went.

When I return to my station after a client, I check my phone and notice a new text from Jasper, simply saying to meet him at the back of the warehouse. There is a small office there he never uses. No one does, really, besides some of the dolls when they secretly hook up with Jasper’s men.

Still feeling the hurt and anger his remarks caused me, I go there, hoping for an apology.

Why else would he want me here? It always goes like this—we fight, Jasper lashes out with his words, then he apologizes and tries to make it up to me. Once it was an expensive weekend stay at a spa where I got pampered the entire time. Usually, it’s gifts, or Jasper being unusually lovey-dovey for a few days.

Is that normal? The thought comes to my mind as I make my way to the warehouse. I never had an example of a healthy relationship. But I figure that everyone struggles. Everyone has their fights and quarrels, right?

I should just be grateful for what I have. After all, it could be much, much worse.

The warehouse is a weird, cold place. I don’t even like going through it to get to the loading dock. It’s as if the memories of horrible things that have happened here linger. Like the creepy shipping containers that usually stand in the middle of it. I never saw what is in them, but—

One is open.

I pause, listening to the strange sounds coming from within. Grunting. Slicing and cracking. Like a spooked animal, I quiet my breath and tread carefully.

Nothing can really happen to me here, so why do I feel so…

My idiotic curiosity pulls me closer. Even as the smell of iron drifts in my nostrils. Even if, with every cautious step, I’m more and more aware that what I’ll witness won’t be pretty. The scent grows stronger, the noises louder. The hairs at the back of my neck stand on end as I turn the corner, cautiously peeking around the open metal door of the container.

What I see once I do is like a scene from a horror movie. One I never would’ve wanted to experience in real life. Plastic sheets cover every inch of the inside. In the back stands a bright light, and in the middle is a metal table with a person next to it…and on it.

Or at least what used to be a person.

Now it is the bloodied, pale torso laying on the table. An arm falls into the large orange bucket by the butcher’s feet. The person notices me. Whoever is doing it, cutting a human being into pieces, turn to me, and it’s Kobe.

I stare, all the air having completely evaporated out of my lungs.

A headless, armless torso with one half a leg and…Kobe, covered in blood. Streaks of it glisten on his forehead, as if he wiped sweat off it and got some on. The black gloves on his hands aren’t enough to prevent blood from staining his gray shirt.

“Apollo,” I hear him say, somewhere in the distance. His eyes widen at me and his mouth opens, but I shake my head and start backing away, hearing nothing but an insane, maddening buzzing inside my skull and the pounding of my heart urging me to run, so I do.

I run. I’m hot and shaky and… Fuck!

The images won’t leave me. I can’t stop them from popping back in front of me with every blink.

I stumble in the direction of the loading dock and get outside, somehow. Barely standing on my trembling knees, I bend over, one hand grasping the wall next to me and the other shooting toward my mouth as my stomach threatens to empty itself. By some miracle, I withstand the urge to hurl.

But the primal, completely overwhelming sense of terror still rattles my body. I want to cry, out of sheer need to release these intense emotions, yet I’m unable to. And my heart aches. It aches knowing Kobe was the person standing right in the middle of that terrifying nightmare I witnessed. Bloodied, with a bone saw in his hand.

Hearing steps somewhere around me, I jerk upward and turn, worried it’s him. Instead, I see Jasper sauntering toward me with a strangely pitying expression on his face. Like I’m a scared little kid he feels sorry for.

“You weren’t supposed to see that, doll,” he says softly, reaching out for me. I’m still too shaken to even do anything, so I let him grab me by the nape and pull me into his chest. And oh, it is warm. A warm, soft, living person’s body.

I shut my eyes tight, trying to calm myself.

“Sorry you had to witness that, but… well , you should already know that no one in this world avoids getting their hands dirty. No one but the few lucky ones like you,” Jasper whispers with a smug undertone to his voice that makes my stomach twist. “I’d never allow you to be forced to do these horrible things. And thanks to me, you never will. You’re far too fragile, see? Far too precious.”

As he wipes the tear that made its way out from my cheek and smiles at me, I suck in my lip and bite on it.

I’m scared. Scared of being weak, of being powerless. Scared of pushing myself to be stronger, only to fail.

Even in Jasper’s arms, I still don’t feel safe.