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I have to get myself out of here. If I die, at least it will be fighting for my own freedom.
Constantine wheels the rack near the bed, stopping and leaning up against it. He looks ridiculous as ever in his blood red button up and maroon slacks; his blond hair is slicked back, the tendril of a curl carefully kept pressed against his forehead. His inky brown eyes glitter dangerously, and he tilts his head, his smirk growing.
“You will require a new wardrobe.” He says it matter-of-factly, as though he didn’t just take me from Africa by force.
I open my mouth to tell him where he can put his new wardrobe, but he just shakes his head, cutting off my words.
“I’ll tell you when you are expected to speak.” He gestures to the clothes. “Pick out some clothes, Persephone.”
I cross my arms, my expression tightening, and hold my ground. A note of amusement flits across Constantine’s face and he starts riffling through the garments, moving each hanger aside as he judges them.
I can’t help but notice that most of the so-called outfits are barely more than lingerie. A crushed blue velvet bikini, a lacy see through black corset, and a silky blood red teddy catch my eye. I can’t help but swallow hard as I watch Constantine flip through the rack.
I can’t stand the silence in the room. He knows it, too. He can barely keep a full smile off his face as he runs his hand over a shiny black leather bustier.
“I’m not wearing any of those,” I blurt out.
He raises his eyes to mine and gives me a cocky grin. I see that I’ve lost the little game between the two of us by letting him know how nervous I am.
“Oh Penny.” He bites his lip. “Penny, Penny, Penny. You’re going to change into one of these outfits right here, right now. You’re going to come downstairs. And you’re going to entertain the guests that I have arriving.” He sniffs, looking me up and down. “You know, you’re fucking broken. Your left hand, there? I did that. I made my mark on you once. This time, I won’t let you go until you die.”
“Fuck you.” White hot adrenaline fissions through my veins, heating me from the inside out. My voice is low, my anger threatening to boil over. “You’re not worth a damned thing. Certainly not anything to be afraid of. When I was young, I didn’t know. But I know now.”
He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes at me. He pulls a hanger off the rack, a shiny off-white latex miniskirt and matching blocky tube top. He struts over to me, sizing me up with an icy gaze, and thrusts the outfit into my chest.
My heartbeat gallops against my ribs, a wild horse that cannot be tamed. I jerk my chin up, holding back my tears. When he pushes the outfit at me, I ignore it, letting it fall to the ground.
Quick as lightning, he smacks me across the cheek. For a second, I can’t process his hand flying at my face and the sound of the slap, like the most perfect hand clap.
I’m frozen, shocked beyond belief.
My cheek starts stinging. I raise my left hand to my face, the damaged one. As I start to turn my eyes toward Constantine, his hand snakes out again.
This time he catches my damaged hand, pulling it back by the middle finger until I make a rough gasp. In a split second, I go from furious and indignant to worried that Constantine might actually break my fucking hand.
“You’ll do as you’re told,” he announces. “If I say you’re going to suck and fuck your way through my party, you will. If I want you to walk across a bed of hot coals, you will. You’ll do whatever I tell you to, because if you don’t…”
He pulls harder on my finger until I cry out. Then he just smiles, enjoying my anguish.
“If you don’t do what I want, I’ll fucking kill you. I won’t leave you this time until your body is broken, and your bones are nothing but ash. You got me?”
Tears fill my eyes, breaking free and rolling down my face. Rage wells up inside of me. I don’t trust my voice to shout my feelings, not without a betraying tremor of unadulterated fear.
So I act on impulse, spitting right in his face. His smile slips away, and his face grows deadly serious.
He grabs me by the throat, lifting me off my feet. I start to choke, my fingers clawing at his wrists. But he just holds me up like that, even shaking me a little to get me to stop struggling.
I can’t stop, of course. I flail, my heartbeat loud in my ears, my face filling with blood. I try to scream but I can’t; he’s cut off even the remotest chance I have to breathe.
He pulls me close, whispering to me as one would a prayer to God. “I’m going to break you, Persephone. I’m going to watch you suffer. And then, when you’ve had far too much, I can’t wait to watch the light drain from your eyes.”
I slap at his hands, my vision tingeing red, turning splotchy with fat black spots. Constantine waits another agonizing second and then lets me go, dropping my entire weight. I plummet to the floor, sucking in gasps of air, disoriented.
Constantine bends down, picks up the skimpy white latex outfit, and then throws it at me. It hits me in the head, the metal hanger squeaking as it bounces off and hits the floor. I’m too busy on my hands and knees, trying to recover from nearly being choked to death.
“You have ten minutes,” he says, turning toward the door. “And let me just tell you this now… you don’t want me to come find you, Persephone.”
I hang my head between my shoulder blades, my breaths finally slowing. But by the time I look up, he’s gone.
