Cursed Angels

“Hello,” I say to the girl. “What’s your name?”

She shuts her mouth. Brave little one. A name is important. It’s something that can be used against you. By keeping it to herself, she’s retaining some of the power. I can’t help but snort a little laugh. If the chip were in my head, I’d beat the name out of her and then forget I did it. I look around the room knowing there will be cameras with microphones that will pick up everything I say.

I spot them hidden in the ceiling and choose the spot where I need to carry out my plan. In three long strides I’m across the room and wrapping my hand around the girl’s long, black hair, pulling her to her feet. She’s screaming and trying to kick out at me, but I keep her enough of a distance away from me. I have to ensure my manhood will be in good working order for Samara when I see her next. I throw the girl down into the corner where we’d be at the edge of sight from where the camera is positioned. She slides along the floor and slams into the wall.

“Please,” she cries. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Why do you think I’ll do that?” I fold my arms across my chest and stare down at her. A look of determination adorns my face. I need to make her believe I’m the devil she thinks I am. If she sees it, so will the cameras and the bitch watching behind them.

“The others.” Her bottom lip trembles when she whimpers out her words. “They did things.”

“They raped you?”

She nods.

“They beat you?”

Another flick of her head.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No,” she replies with a barely audible voice.

“Hell,” I reply with little care. “You’ve got nothing on the outside. No parents or family. Nobody who cares about you. You’re alone, and that is what we prey on because nobody will care you’re gone.”

“My friends,” she interrupts.

“Three boys, soon to be men.” I raise an eyebrow. “We like them just as much. Not for the same reasons you will be used. No. They will become soldiers who fight for whatever we tell them to. They may die in the process, but there are plenty more where they came from. There will always be people who have nothing and nobody.”

“You’re evil. Sick,” she spits at me.

“Probably.” I shrug. “But I’m good at what I do, so I might as well continue. Better than nothing.”

I prowl closer to her, and she jumps to her feet and backs up until she hits the wall behind her. My eyes flick to the camera. Out of sight. Perfect.

I smother her with my body. She’s trying to struggle, but I pin her to the wall and cover her with my muscular frame. I bring my hand down between us, so any cameras behind us will see what looks like me fingering her. In reality, I’m not touching her. I bring my mouth as close to her ear as possible and whisper, “Listen to me carefully. I don’t have much time to explain. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve sent word to help get you out of here, but until then, you need to play along with me because I’m the only person who can keep you safe from being raped again. I can’t promise you won’t be beaten again, but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum. Scream now,” I order.

Her eyes look up into mine, and I hope she sees the genuine concern I have for her in them. She opens her mouth, and I fear she’s going to say something which will land us both in more trouble than we’re currently risking, but all she does is scream.

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Well done.”

“I don’t understand,” she replies, her voice lowered to a whisper.

“You don’t need to. Just know you’re under my protection now. What has happened up until now won’t happen again.”

She looks down between us to where my hand is between us, the fingers moving so any muscles in my back and shoulders appear to be doing the same.

“Please. I don’t want this,” she whimpers in a loud voice, and I know she’s playing along with my game.

“Good girl. You ever faked an orgasm?” I question with a smirk.

“No,” she shouts out with feigned anguish.

“Now will be the first then. Do it.”

Her eyes go wide, and then she’s shuddering and crying in my arms.

“No.” She forces tears to the surface, and I step back so the camera can see the face of my Oscar-deserving actress. She’s playing the victim perfectly. She slides to the floor and brings her knees up to her chest.

“Why are you doing this to me? I just want to go home.”

I lower myself to her.