Page 23

Eliza

We have been at this stupid cabin for hours now, and all he has done is lock me in the basement.

I am going to wear a path into the floor pacing, but I can’t stop.

Do the guys know I am missing? Were they ever in jail?

How could I be so goddamn stupid? I didn’t trust Natalie before now, so why did I today?

When the basement door opens, I retreat back to the corner of the concrete prison.

I know a punishment is coming. When I smell the waft of whiskey when he closes in on me, I know this is it.

This is the part where he makes me beg to die.

Everything that has happened over the last eight months is replaying in my head, and the weight of it all is too much. It hurts too much for me to take.

“On your knees,” Troy spits. I do as I am told and sink down to my knees and drop my gaze. Looking at him directly in the eyes is like challenging him. I’m not brave enough for that. “Suck my cock.”

“W-What?” I sputter.

“You heard me, whore. Suck my cock.” His voice is slurred, and he has no doubt been spending all this time drinking.

This will either be good or bad… either way, I do as I am told.

The second I put my mouth around his dick, he grabs my head and starts violently fucking my throat.

This time, I can handle it. I learned so much about self-control with Julian, Calder, and Ryan…

I just close my eyes and give it my all.

I ignore the rancid taste of his unwashed body and suck as though my life depends on it, because it does.

As I am taking this brutality, I am realizing I have an opportunity.

I can be the whore he thinks I am and blow his goddamn mind.

If I can do that, plus him being so damn drunk, he will pass out.

If he does, I can run. We are deep in miles of forest, but I know they will find me.

Eventually, Troy moans and pushes down my throat as jets of come shoot down my throat, making me gag. “Fuck, Eliza,” he grunts when I finally swallow, and he pulls out of my mouth. “I’ve missed my dirty bitch. Have you missed me?”

“Yes,” I lie. I missed him as much as dogs miss fleas.

“You understand why you are going to be punished, yes?” he asks.

“Because I ran away,” I say. I don’t know if that’s what he wants to hear, but it will stroke his ego.

“And?”

“Because I let other men touch me,” I add.

“Three men. Eight months,” he says. “Never mind what they did to me. They humiliated me. Can you believe that?”

“What did they do?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says dismissively. “Three men, eight months. That is eight lashings per man. Stand.”

I do as he says and stand. He pulls a collar out of his back pocket. When he puts it around my throat, metal spikes dig into my neck. I grit my teeth and hold back my verbal attacks as he starts ripping my clothes off until I am naked. “Go face the wall.”

Before I turn, I see the belt he is about to use on me has metal spikes on it. He is going to rip me to shreds. When I stand where he wants me, he ties my arms up with chains, I realize that my chances of escaping are now zero. This is how I will die; tied up like an animal and whipped to death.

The first strike comes suddenly and the spikes rip through my back, making me scream out in pain. “One,” Troy says simply.

“ I hate you!” I scream.

Two…

“ Stop!”

Three…

“ Please stop. Please! ”

Four…

“ God, please!”

Five…

Six…

Seven…

Eight…

“One down. Two to go,” Troy laughs

Nine…

I wish were dead.

Ten…

I wonder what heaven is like?

Eleven…

How long do you go to jail for murder?

Twelve…

I hope my death brings peace.

Thirteen…

Fourteen…

Fifteen…

Sixteen…

“One left, Eliza. Don’t pass out or I start over.”

Seventeen…

Maybe this is hell.

Eighteen…

He is the devil.

Nineteen…

My body is cold. Why am I so cold?

Twenty…

And numb. Maybe I’m finally dying.

Twenty-one…

I’m so tired.

Twenty-two…

Almost there….

Twenty-three…

Twenty-four…

Now what?

Troy stops, and I am hardly conscious. I can feel blood running down my body and dripping onto the floor.

When I hear the belt clatter to the concrete floor, I feel his hands grip my waist and step back a bit so he can bend me over.

This strains my shoulders, and I whimper as more pain ripples through my body.

A broken scream echoes through the room when he slams his dick into my ass.

I can feel the way my body rips at a feeble attempt to accommodate his size.

“You are mine,” he growls and thrusts harder.

“You will always…”

Thrust!

“Be mine!”

Thrust

“I will fucking ruin you for them.”

Thrust

“… broken whore .”

Thrust.

Every thrust, he offers another insult. Another punishing stab to the gut.

Eventually my body gives up, and I hang limp on the chains as he holds my body up and rams into me over and over to get his revenge against Julian and Calder.

I will happily take this on so that they are not harmed.

I was always doomed to this fate. I think I was stupid to ever think I could be free.

When he comes, he pulls out and jerks himself until the hot liquid splashes across my lower back and fire seeps into the cuts. I groan in response, but it’s weak. I am weak.

When he takes the chains off of me, I expect him to drop me to the floor. Instead, he has a chair waiting close by that he stands me on before wrapping the chains around my neck.

He’s giving me a way out.

Mercy.

This is merciful compared to healing.

A way to tell me that I will always be his, and this is how I can change that.

I was never meant to be free.

I was never meant to be saved.

Maybe my death will bring peace, or maybe it will bring war.

My hope is that it will lead to him finally facing justice for his evil deeds.

My men have each other, and they will find love again.

I will become a distant memory, and they will heal.

I have to believe that. I have to believe this will not break them.

My feet are on the edge of the chair as my mind races through memories of happiness. I am choosing to die with the warmth of their love surrounding me.