Three years before
Hunter had been gone a long time, too long. It was unusual, he was always back by now whenever they sent him to do whatever it is they wanted. He came back bloody and bruised but he always came back. It felt like it had been days since I last saw him, last shared my bed with him and felt him in me, on me and everywhere around me. The man consumed me. I never thought I’d get to have that again, never thought I’d be allowed it until him.
I loved him.
More than I could cope with. It was as if he had buried himself beneath my skin and settled next to my soul, forever etching himself to me. I wanted it, craved it but it was terrifying. I didn’t get to have good, I didn’t get to have hope, so the fear of him being ripped away from me, of never seeing him again…it hurt. It made me feel like my heart was being ripped out.
I pace until, finally, I hear the locks on the door being opened. I rush towards it. No one else entered anymore, I wasn’t sure why and I wasn’t going to question it. I had hoped they had somehow forgotten about me.
The door hits the wall as whoever it is pushes it with a force. My legs stop dead, feet skidding when I notice it isn’t Hunter entering my cell. It’s two of the guards, and they’re looking at me like I’m their next meal. I back away quickly, my spine hitting the wall. Nowhere to go and nowhere to run.
Fear makes my whole body shake, my stomach to churn wildly, threatening to upheave the very small lunch I’d consumed earlier.
“No,” I beg, “please.”
They say nothing as they corner me and promptly shove a bag over my head and cuffs on my wrists, “Be a good girl and we won’t hurt you.” One of them says.
“Please, I don’t want to go.”
They yank me away from the wall and as much as I try to stop, to somehow get them off, they are stronger than I am. I’m dragged from the cell, my bare feet scraping across the gritty floor. I’d done this countless times before, been dragged like this, both consciously and unconsciously, and I always came back worse. Bruised and bloody and sore. These people weren’t kind. They were monsters.
I feel the skin on my feet get cut up by the grit, feel it slice through my flesh and warm blood trickle down over my toes, no doubt leaving a red trail behind me.
I’m dragged up the stairs and through a door, and I’ve been so used to the perpetual state of coldness that the warmth of the place makes it hard to breathe. Instant sweat breaks out across my skin, my neck and brow becoming wet with it. Voices fill my head, but I can’t make out any words through the riot of noise that swarms my ears.
Where the fuck were they taking me!? I hadn’t been here before, I knew that without a doubt but where was I? Laughter fills my ears, are they laughing at me? Who were they?
I wanted Hunter. I may even say his name, but in my panic what’s real and what’s not was hard to decipher.
I didn’t want them to touch me again. I couldn’t handle it, not after sharing so much intimacy with Hunter. He made me realize what it should be like, could be like, not this. Anything but this.
“Don’t get blood on the carpet,” someone says and in reaction one of the men suddenly grab me, throwing me over his shoulder while the other one wraps something around my feet to stop the bleeding.
“Bitch cut up her feet a good’un,” one chuckles.
I try to kick him which earns me a hard slap against the back of my thigh. Embarrassment heats my cheeks.
I’m carried further through the building before being dropped roughly onto a hard floor. There was noise but it suddenly falls silent, the weight of it heavy. I land hard on the floor, my knees banging against it, and shooting sharp pain up my thighs.
I’m not even off the ground when the bag is ripped from my head. My eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. A crystal chandelier hangs in the centre of the room, right above a sprawling oak wood dining table. All sixteen chairs had been filled with men dressed in suits. I scan all of them, noticing a few faces I recognized. Faces that haunted me in my sleep. But it’s one face that has my heart stopping inside my chest.
The fear of what was to come is replaced by sheer confusion and anger.
He sits near the head of the table on the right, a plate full of expensive looking food in front of him. He wears a pristine black suit. He didn’t look like he normally did when he was with me.
Hunter stares at me.
I stare at him.
“Isobel,” he starts but a sudden booming laughter cuts him off. My head snaps around to the source of the noise. This man I recognized instantly. This man had ‘visited’ me countless times and even thinking about it made me physically sick. His eyes do a once over on me, taking in the bandaged feet and sweat marks on my clothes.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” The rotund man says, eyeing me with visible hunger. I curl my lip but feel several sets of eyes look me up and down.
“How much?” One man asks.
“Unless you want your throat ripped out,” Hunter addresses him calmly but keeps his eyes on me, “I suggest you don’t entertain that idea.”
More laughter.
What the fuck was going on? What was Hunter doing at this table with all these men? With that man particularly?
“Get the wine, girl,” the man says, waving a hand towards a cart holding several bottles of red wine. “Pour everyone a glass.”
I’d never been used like this before and fear makes my legs move, even if it’s more of a limp than a walk. I pick up a bottle and start to pour into the glasses sat at the table. Everyone watches me.
“We have them trained so well, don’t we, Hunter?”
I swallow.
“What are you doing?” Hunter growls.
“Using what we have to suit our needs,” he replies smugly. I get to Hunter’s glass and my hand shakes as I pour the wine into his glass.
“Look at me, Snow,” Hunter whispers, “please.”
I flick my eyes to him but this close I see just how well he fits in around this table, how expensive his suit looks, how clean his skin is. He’s groomed his beard, styled his hair… he wasn’t the same man I had in my cell just a few days ago. Who was he? Was he like them? Did he hurt women like they did? Like they did to me so many times.
I had given myself to him.
I had given him everything.
What was he doing here?
Inside I feel something start to crack.
“I can explain,” he starts.
I pull away quickly, too afraid to stay and listen in case I start to cry right here in front of everyone. I finally get to the round man and start pouring the wine into his glass, only, as I pull away, I’m suddenly grabbed forcefully. I drop the still half full bottle of wine and it smashes against the floor, red wine spilling onto the white rug placed beneath the table. The swift backhand to the face was unexpected. My ears ring from the force of it and blood trickles onto my tongue from where my teeth cut into my gums.
“Isobel!” I hear Hunter through the ringing in my ears and he sounds furious. “I’ll kill you all!”
The man who hit me wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his lap. I finally open my eyes, the pain in my face making my whole head hurt, but I can see Hunter and how he’s being restrained to the chair by three men. His eyes are wide with fury, he thrashes on the chair, but he can’t get free.
The man holds me tight with one arm while his other hand trails up my thigh. “Special, is she?”
“You gave me your word!” Hunter yells, “You gave me your fucking word!”
“Ah, that,” The man says, hand still trailing up my thigh, close to the space between my legs. I can’t hold back the tears and regardless of how confused I am, I meet Hunter’s gaze. There’s pain in his face, agonizing pain.
I stiffen when the mans’ hand cups me.
“Is this pussy so good that it can even break the man with no heart?”
I didn’t understand anything. He keeps that hand against me, but he doesn’t move. I hold very, very still.
“Clayton,” Hunter takes his eyes off me, “I will slaughter you.”
“No, you won’t.”
Everything happens so quickly I’m barely able to keep up. Several big men storm into the room and Clayton shoves me off him and into the waiting arms of one of the guards. The three men that have Hunter start to beat him. They kick and they punch, and he goes down, and they continue to beat on him, hitting his head and ribs. I hear the cracks of his bones, feel the blood from his face as if it’s my own.
“Hunter!” I scream, “Stop! Please!”
“Shut her up.”
“Hunter!”
Pain bursts on the back of my skull and then blackness starts to creep in. I can’t stay up straight and my legs buckle. The man holding me lets me go, leaving me to hit the floor with a thud that splits open my head. Through clouded vision, I look over to Hunter to find him already staring at me, blood pooling beneath his face.
“I love you.”
That’s the last thing I hear before I pass out.