Beautifully Broken

“Let me go!” I shriek as a fresh wave of panic and fear breaks over me. I start to thrash and kick, trying to worm myself out of this impossible situation, but it only makes Steven tighten his hold on me.

Henry places a knee over my thighs, and his left hand comes down hard over my breasts. He forces me back to the floor, and then he kills the cigarette against my stomach. The burn is intense, but nothing compared to the fear of not knowing what they’re going to do next.

Henry flicks the cigarette away, and then his fist comes at my face. The blow makes my eyes bulge with pain and forces the air from my lungs. The world instantly begins to spin as a coppery taste explodes in my mouth, causing my throat to burn with bile.

The next blow feels like he’s trying to rip a hole through my face. The third punch makes the bright light fade, and pain takes over until it feels like even my teeth are aching.

All the fight is sapped from me, and I give up fighting, my body going numb. Blood fills my mouth, dribbling out the side and down my aching jaw.

The last memory I have is a sharp pain in my chest as a foot connects with my ribs.

Chapter 3

CARA

The incessant pain and dark are killing me slowly. But the blinding light scares me even more.

Four days. That’s how long I’ve been stuck in this hell hole.

It doesn’t sound long, but they make a recording once a day for Uncle Tom. Every day, Mr. Tredoux adds five minutes to the beating. Yesterday, the twenty-five minutes felt like twenty-five years. I thought it would never end.

I’m dreading the next beating. Every sound makes me cringe with fear.

Every day, they remove an item of clothing. First, it was my jacket and shirt, then my sneakers, then my socks, and yesterday my jeans. They keep taking my clothes away, leaving me with less and less of myself.

I can’t stop shivering, and I don’t know if it’s from the cold or fear. I only have two items of clothing left. My underwear.

At first, I was in shock and didn’t eat when an old man brought food. On day two, I forced myself to move and pushed through the pain after they were done beating me, but it was a struggle to keep the food down. Day three was worse, and yesterday I couldn’t keep the food in at all.

I think my ribs are broken, or at the very least cracked. My right hip hurts as if someone is constantly shoving a fist into my side.

The tiny space reeks of vomit and blood.

It smells like death.

A sob begins to build in my chest, and like all the others, it gets stuck, making the pressure build.

Whenever the old man comes with food, he never looks at me. He just puts down the plate and water, and then he leaves in a hurry.

It has crossed my mind to try and overpower him, but I have no strength left for a fight.

Suddenly I hear the lock rattle, and I press harder into the corner. My body screams with pain from the movement, making air burst over my bruised lips.

The door opens, and a low growl builds deep in my throat, making me sound like nothing more than a beaten dog.

When Steven comes in alone, a frown forms on my forehead because he’s alone.

I watch him set up the camera on a tripod, and then he presses record, and the blinding light falls on me.

Swallowing hard on the deep ache, I push my torso up off the floor, my arms shaking from the effort it’s taking. “So now you’re going to beat me? You finally grew a pair of balls, asshole?” I mutter, angry that I’ve let the monster touch me.

Angry that I didn’t move on from that town sooner.

Angry that I caved and had a one-night stand.

Angry that I let myself be taken.

“No, Henry does the beating,” Steven says calmly.

He begins to fiddle with his belt, and my lips part as my eyes widen.

What the hell?

I shake my head and struggle through the pain to climb to my feet.

Steven’s cruel gaze settles on me, and then his mouth lifts in a smirk. “It’s been a while.”

No.

No.

Ice pours through my veins, making every bruise come alive with a heartbeat of its own.

I’m too shocked and scared to snap at Steven and instead whisper, “I’m not letting you fuck me.”

“Come on, babe. It will be like old times,” he chuckles darkly, the sound grating at my ears.

He unbuttons his jeans and then drags the zip down, exposing his boxers.

God, no.

Please. Not this. I can handle anything but this.

A fresh wave of adrenaline surges through me, and I dart toward the door. I don’t even get halfway when I’m taken down by Steven’s body slamming into mine. I fall down face first, the intense ache shuddering through my body, ripping a scream from me.