cares about me.
I was foolish to wish for any of those things.
He passed me off to this monster, without a single care in the world, all to pay for his own sins. He’s no better than this man. They’re both cruel. Vile. Sadistic men.
Disgust crawls up and down my spine as I think about him, the man I’ve spent endless nights thinking about, fantasizing about. I spent years wondering who he was, wondering why I couldn’t erase him from my mind.
I force a thick swallow and stiffen when I feel pressure around my neck. On autopilot, my fingertips flutter to the tie that’s still tightly wound around my throat. The skin there already feels raw and bruised. I slam my eyes shut, another hot tear slipping down my cheek when I think about everything that has happened within a few short hours.
One moment I was enjoying my freedom at the carnival, and the next, I was waking up to a throbbing pain in my skull in an unknown vehicle, surrounded by unfamiliar men. Even now, the back of my head twinges at the memory of rough hands manhandling me.
Ice floods my veins when I think of him—my captor. The way he chased me down, much like a predator would its prey. He did it with such ease, I knew this couldn’t be his first time. He was much too skilled. Much too evil. It was there to be read in his eyes, like the pages of a forbidden book, the darkness that consumes him. He isn’t playing a part or pretending to be something he’s not. He wants to hurt me, and what’s more frightening? I can tell he’s going to enjoy it, watching my downfall.
He frightens me.
With a single glance alone, the man is terrifying.
That’s why I tried to run, I foolishly thought I could escape. I foolishly believed I could get myself to safety.
I was wrong.
The way he humiliated me with his belt, exposing parts of my body no one has ever seen, was degrading. It made me sick with horror. I’ve only just gotten here, and I already feel broken, as though I’m barely hanging on by a thread. I thought I was stronger than this. Strong enough to withstand his cold and rough hands on my body. Strong enough to withstand any pain he inflicts. I shudder, just thinking about the way the leather of his belt seared across my flesh. My backside feels raw. Even now, there’s a constant burning across my lower half that demands my attention. It’s agonizing.
After spewing his vile threats and promises, he dragged me inside his home, his grip tight and unrelenting on the tie wrapped savagely around my throat. He didn’t bother giving me a tour, it’s not like this was some social visit. Instead, he dragged me up a set of stairs and all but shoved me into a bathroom. With dark wood floors and a vintage clawfoot tub, this might’ve been a dream for most people, but when he demanded I undress myself, it was clear that this was nothing more than a nightmare.
One I wasn’t sure I would survive.
This is where I’ve been sitting ever since. On the cool marble of the shower, with the ice-cold water drenching me. He didn’t bother turning on the warm water to make me comfortable, he chose to leave it on the coldest setting. And I let him.
Why did I let him?
A spark of fury ignites in my chest. With myself, my father and him.
This isn’t me. I refuse to be that girl, the one who will give in. The one who will roll over and let him take whatever he wants from me. He may think he can break me, and maybe he will, maybe he’ll take everything from me, but I make a promise to myself, here and now, that I’ll do whatever it takes to save myself. Whatever it takes to escape. Because I refuse to become another one of this man’s victims. I refuse to let my father’s choices end my life.
I tense at the sound of heavy footfalls clipping along the wood floors. The hairs at the nape of my neck stand at attention, and I slam my eyes shut. The footsteps stop a few feet away from me, and I wait, fearing what will come next.
“Get up.”
My heart lurches at his sharp tone and I recoil. As if to serve as a reminder of my disobedience, the burning in my backside suddenly grows stronger.