Their Captive
The boys grin at me, and I watch them head off in different directions before the elevator door closes once again. When I get to the third floor, I find the first room and toss her tiny little body down on an old hospital bed. She bounces across the dirty sheets, coming to rest on her side, the fabric of her T-shirt now sticking to her smooth belly.
I pounce like a lion on its prey, feeling that darkness creep in, the darkness that terrifies me. Reaching for my knife, I pull it out and turn her onto her belly. She struggles, kicking her legs, and screaming beneath the tape, but I just rest my weight on her legs, subduing her in seconds. Her screams become louder, the cable ties dig into her wrists as she tries to fight me, fight what’s to come. I trail the knife across her skin, watching as she shivers.
I want to cut her skin, mark it, remove the beauty, but even as the blade moves across her skin, I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t bring myself to apply the pressure needed to make her bleed. Disappointment slowly fills my veins and with a flick of the blade, I cut her shirt straight down the middle.
“You won’t be needing that anymore.” I lean forward brushing a few strands of silky blonde hair from her ear, making certain she can hear me. I trail the knife down her back over her spine. “One little nick and I could paralyze you. Make it so you wouldn’t be able to fight us, make it so you would be nothing but our little sex toy. Our little fucking slut.”
A muffled ‘no,’ meets my ears and I feel the sudden urge to listen to her scream, to hear her pleas. I imagine my parents begged, my sister probably cried. I need to hear her scream as a reminder, maybe that will give me the edge to go through with this.
I cut the zip tie and flip her back over onto her back. She lands with a hardness that knocks the air out of her lungs. Tears stain her cheeks and I lean down licking them from her beautiful face.
She’s pretty, so fucking pretty it hurts. I pull the tape from her lips, and instantly a high pitch scream escapes her throat. It pierces my ears, and I love it, it fuels me, gives me the strength I need to keep going.
“Please don’t. Please,” she begs with indescribable fear in her eyes.
“Have you ever been fucked before?” I’m inches away from her pink lips.
“No…never, and I don’t—”
I lift my hand wrapping it around her throat, silencing her in an instant. Her body trembles beneath me, and I know she can feel the danger in the air. She knows what is to come, and it’s happening even if she doesn’t want it to.
“I don’t give a fuck what you want. Your father didn’t care when he had my parents killed, when he had my sister raped and her throat slit.”
“I didn’t…” she tries to say through my grasp, but I tighten my hold on her throat, listening as she gasps for air.
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up, before I hurt you, and not just by taking from you, or using your body.” I release her, pushing away from the bed, she sucks in a greedy breath of air and scurries backward on the shitty mattress. I run my hands through my hair…this is harder than I thought it would be. I knew what she was going to say, that she didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter if she knew or not.
“I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I lift my gaze to her. Her mouth is going to get her killed, hell, who the fuck am I kidding, she might end up dying anyway.
She might not even know what kind of man her father is, but she still lives in his house, spends his money…money that he earned by making deals with terrorists…money he used to have my parents killed. She is his daughter and maybe she is innocent, but so was my family. They suffered because he wanted to get to us, so it’s only fair to inflict the same type of pain on her. An eye for an eye. We’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.
Chapter Three
Jessa
I’m frozen, paralyzed with fear. I don’t understand anything he just told me, nothing makes sense. I try and digest every single thing I hear him saying but I can’t. My mind refuses to understand the words. He must be mistaken, my father would never do those things.
I scoot back on the thin hospital mattress as far as I can. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them in an attempt to make myself smaller. They might not kill me outright, but I know by the time they’re done with me that I’ll be wishing for death. I quickly scan the room, looking for an exit, a weapon, anything that I can use to fight them off. I know it’s stupid, but what’s stupider is just sitting here, not making any type of attempt at an escape.