Beautifully Broken

‘No, Henry does the beating,’ a new voice says. It’s not the fucker who usually does the beating and talking. I can’t see him yet, but Cara must see something because she strains to get to her feet.

I lean over and turn the volume up a notch.

‘It’s been a while,’ the fucker says, sounding amused.

‘I’m not letting you fuck me.’

‘Come on, babe. It will be like old times.’

My heartbeat speeds up as I realize why there’s only one fucker in there with her.

Cara darts out of the camera’s view, but seconds later, I hear her hit the floor with a desperate scream.

‘Get off me!’ she cries, and I quickly lean forward to turn the volume down before she hears it. I stay close to the speaker, so I can listen.

For a few seconds, there are only scuffling sounds and then a clear, ‘No.’

‘Please don’t. Please’ Cara pleads, sounding frantic, and it makes my blood burn through my veins.

‘No!’ she cries, and this time it’s a hopeless sound that guts me.

Closing my eyes, I lower my head to my hand while my other fists the phone in a crushing grip.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

‘No.’ The word sounds hollow. The fight’s gone from her voice, and it makes something primal rip through my chest.

Christ.

Fucking Christ.

‘Don’t worry, babe,’ the fucker grunts. ‘I’ll be quick. You won’t remember this for long.’

I can clearly hear the sound of skin slapping on skin, and it’s the most fucked up sound I’ve ever heard. Bile burns in my stomach as every muscle in my body tightens. My breaths begin to rush over my lips, and it feels as if the very blood in my veins is turning to ice.

‘Tomorrow, Henry gets to shoot your brains out.’ I listen to him grunt as he finds his release, and the sound makes the bile push up my throat. Grabbing the trashcan, I empty my stomach while my body continues to shake from the rage.

Motherfucking fuck.

Setting the trashcan down, I take a couple of deep breaths while my heart thunders in my chest.

Christ, I can’t imagine how Cara must have felt – how she must still feel.

‘You didn’t think you were going to live, did you?’

I hear movement, and then the fucking asshole shoves Cara into the light.

‘There’s nothing left of her, Tom. You should have given us the money when we asked.’

The fucker shoves her hard to the floor, and seconds later, the recording stops.

Staring at the dark screen, I try to process that Cara was brutally raped, but I can’t. I can’t fucking accept that a piece of shit violated her even though I heard it with my own ears.

Fuck.

You need to get your shit together.

Cara needs you.

Focus.

I rewind the footage to where the bastard is holding Cara up in front of the camera, and then I press pause play.

‘There’s nothing left of her, Tom. You should have given us the money when we asked.’

So it was a ransom?

I rewind again, listening once more, then I pause on Cara’s face. I stare into her wild eyes, taking in the fight, still reflecting in her green irises.

No.

No. No. No.

My breathing speeds up again as I realize something else happened off-camera, something that extinguished the fight in her eyes.

“Christ, baby, what broke you?”

I keep staring at her eyes, sparkling with tears and the will to live.

I think back to when I found her. She was filthy as shit… and she reeked of vomit and piss. Yet, not once did she puke on any of the memory cards I’ve watched, not even with the last one when the fucker raped her.

Sure, she could have puked afterward, off-camera.

But something else must’ve happened to kill the life in her eyes.

There’s a crack right down the middle of my heart because what the fuck else could’ve happened after she was raped?

Slapping the laptop shut, I get up and leave the office. I lock the door behind me and then walk to Cara’s room.

I hesitate for a second before knocking softly, but there’s no answer. Nudging the door open until I can see the bed, I’m surprised to find it empty. Cara’s always in it.

I open the door all the way and see her standing by the window.

I flip on the light, and it startles Cara, making her swing around, a clear look of terror on her face.

“Fuck, sorry,” I say quickly, walking in so she can see me clearly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” the words rush from her, and I just nod.

This woman has so much pride. It’s the one thing they couldn’t take from her. Not once has she complained about the pain and horror she had to endure.

Admiration swells in my chest, making it a little easier to breathe.

I walk closer and then stare down at her. Her eyes do a dance around the room before she finally looks up at me.