Convict Me (Broken Heroes 1)

I’ve never been a violent person, but if my hands were free right now, I would shove that phone straight up his ass. I shake my head in defiance. He isn’t going to get anything from me. I don’t care about him or the money he wants. “He won’t. He won’t give you a dime. Just let me go and I’ll go back to my parents. I won’t tell anyone what happened. I swear,” I plead with him, praying he’s still a human with a heart.

“Wrong answer!” With his free hand, he slaps me across the face, making my head snap to the side. Pain throbs through my cheek as I hang off the side of the chair. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything but remain seated.

Pain-filled tears spring from my eyes. He doesn’t give me time to say anything, or even move before he hits me again. This time, even harder than the last, making me cry out in pain.

“Beg, Elyse. Beg for your precious Hero to come save you.”

I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning, of having me beg, but when he strikes me a third time, my eyes shift closed and darkness clings to me. I’m about to pass out—one more slap and I’ll be gone.

With the last shred of hope I have, I give into his demand, “Please…” I whimper, ashamed of my weakness.

“There you go, sweetie.” He steps forward and grips my chin roughly.

My eyes swell. Blood trickles down from my nose. I don’t even want to know the kind of damage that’s been done.

Forcing me to look at him, he leans in. His breath smells of beer and cigarettes. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He snickers to himself.

Tilting my head farther back, he angles the camera down to me. “If you don’t want me to hurt this pretty face any more than I already have, you better come up with the money quickly. My patience is wearing thin, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll go without touching the more intimate parts of her.” Hero’s father doesn’t even glance at me again.

He releases me with a shove and turns off the phone, stuffing it back into his pocket.

At his words, the bile rising in my throat fills my mouth and I bend over, vomiting all over the side of the chair. My hair clings to my sweaty forehead. I force air into my lungs, knowing if I don’t, I will truly pass out. After hearing what the vile man before me just said, that’s the last thing I want to do.

The evil bastard leans down, resting on the balls of his feet. “Now, why the fuck did you have to go and do that?” His face is a mask of fury.

Before I can even mutter a response, his clenched fist moves toward my face.

Moments later, everything goes black as my head rolls to the side.

***

My face throbs and one of my eyes is swollen so badly, I can barely open it. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but the grumbling of my belly signifies it’s been awhile. Not that it would matter if the bastard brought me food. I don’t think I could keep any of it down. Something to drink, to moisten the desert in my mouth, would be nice, though.

I keep drifting in and out of sleep from exhaustion, or maybe it’s the aftermath of whatever drug he gave me. I dream about my mom being here. Her fingers touch my face gently, and I beg her for help, but she just turns around and walks back up the stairs. Sometimes, I’m not even sure if I’m awake or asleep. Maybe I’m trapped somewhere in between.

I’m about to pass out again when I hear footsteps above me. I strain, trying to hear better.

Multiple footsteps followed by voices. My heart pounds so hard, I can hear it in my ears. Someone is here—someone is here!

“Hello!” I try to scream, but only a low, broken voice comes out. It’s so quiet, I can barely hear it myself.

“Help me!” I cry out. I try again and again, but I can’t get the words to come out loud enough. My throat throbs with the effort. It hurts to mumble, let alone scream.

The creaking of the basement door opening startles me, and suddenly, I’m more scared than I was the first time I woke up here. What if he invited more bad people? What if they come down here to hurt me?

I struggle against the rope as it digs into my skin, rubbing at the already sensitive flesh. Tears sting my eyes. It’s no use.

A pair of familiar boots come down the stairs first, and fear paralyzes me.

“Oh sweet, sweet Elyse, guess who is here to see you?” he coaxes, his gaze piercing mine, holding me in place.