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And now my feelings are a little more complex.
Fucking Jason got all our money from the mafia. Or whoever this Owain guy was.
I was screwed, I was so screwed. I couldn’t be a prostitute. I barely had any experience with guys. And now that bastard was going to sell me to men until I could pay off two hundred thousand dollars.
I tried to imagine how long that would take.
Months. Years. An entire lifetime. It didn’t matter, so long as he got paid.
God damn. I was going to die in this room.
Owain didn’t come back right away. A small clock glowing red letters on the nightstand ticked down the time. An hour passed, then two, then three. I found clean towels in the bathroom and took a shower just for something to do. I put my old clothes back on and paced around the room, trying to come up with some way to escape.
The drawers were all empty in the bureau. The nightstand held a bible and some gum.
I thought I could shatter the vase and use the pieces to cut him.
But Owain could rip me to pieces. That much was obvious.
He was six inches taller and probably a hundred pounds heavier.
Still, I had to do something. I couldn’t end up this bastard’s whore.
Even though my brother owed him money, that didn’t mean he could take me and use me like this.
More time ticked past. And I got mad.
Eventually, around seven that night, I heard a sound outside. The floor creaked. I threw myself across the room and stood behind the door, heart racing. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I had to try something.
The lock thunked. The door creaked open.
“Little Leigh,” Owain said. “Sorry it took me so long.” He stepped into the room but didn’t see me. I stared at his back. He held a plate in one hand and a duffel bag in another. He put the bag down on the floor and the plate on the bed. He tugged at the comforter.
I made a break for it. I ran around the door and threw myself out into the hallway. I slipped on the floor and smashed against the far wall, but kept running. The walls were white and mostly bare. I heard a TV on downstairs. I reached the top step and went to jump down—
Something iron hard grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. I let out a primal scream of rage and pain.
Owain pushed me up against the wall and pinned me there.
“Now, now,” he said, voice soft. “Come on, little Leigh. That was your escape attempt.”
“Fuck you,” I said.
“You barely got to the steps. You should’ve tried to hurt me first. Maybe broken the mirror and stabbed me.”
“What do you want from me?”
The pressure on my wrist lightened ever so slightly. “That’s what I’m here to discuss.”
I felt my heart racing in my chest. I wanted to scream, or groan, or fight.
But I couldn’t move and his lips were inches from my neck.
“Do you want to hear what your job will be?” he asked.
“I already know what you want from me.”
He laughed and stepped back. I turned around, rubbing my arm.
“You have no clue. Now get back in that room. We need to have a conversation.”
I hesitated. The last place I wanted to be was back in that room, but I didn’t have any options.
He smiled at me. He knew I was screwed
So I turned and did as he asked. I walked back into the room.
He followed and shut the door behind him.
I sat at the end of the bed. The plate had a sandwich on it. My stomach growled, so I picked it up and ate. Turkey, cheese, mustard. Simple, but I was starving. I devoured half in two bites then crossed my arms and did my best to give him an angry stare.
It barely worked. I couldn’t control the fear that coursed through me.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me what you want.”
“I have a problem that I think you can help me solve. In fact, I think we can help each other.”
“Help each other?” The idea of helping him revolted me. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”
He held up a hand. “I understand you’re confused. But let me start out by saying that I have no plans to make you a whore.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
“You are not going to fuck men for money. You’re not going to fuck anyone. That’s not what I need from you.”
A strange sensation washed over me. It was relief mixed with disbelief mixed with more fear. If he didn’t want me to sleep with men, then I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he did want.
Because it couldn’t be good.
And it might be worse.
“Just tell me,” I said. “I’m not sure I can keep dealing with this cryptic bullshit.”
