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“You aren’t the only person who has been fucked up by Patience,” Kyrin mutters behind me, and I turn to face him, shocked at the soft tone he used.
“You?”
Kyrin’s eyes darken, even more than usual. There’s an air of danger that hovers around Kyrin, and I get the feeling that I’m about to finally get my first inhale. He starts walking toward the cabin, and I follow behind him with Kill next to me. I know it looks stupid, and if this was a movie, I know that everyone would be screaming at the stupid girl walking into a random cabin in the woods with two killers, but I do anyway. Is that trust? Who knows.
We all stomp up the stairs, the heavy weight squeaking beneath us as Kyrin opens the front door. He pauses at the threshold. “Haven’t been back here since that day.”
I think over what he’s saying. “I know what they used to use this cabin for. I remember. It was when Mayhem and the Four Fathers thought they got Patience out of Kiznitch, but they didn’t. Kiznitch was so busy looking for their hiding places in Patience that they forgot to look in their own backyard. Patience didn’t shit where they ate. They’d house the people, kids, who were for sale, in here. The kids were always snatched from Mayhem before it shut down. In the bedrooms, there are shackles, beds, old urine stains on the floors…”
Kyrin freezes, and I inch my way in beneath his arm. “I was here once, too.”
“I know.” Kyrin looks up at me from beneath his lashes. “I saw you one day, coming in here and being tied to the table right there.” Kyrin points to an aged dining table with four wooden legs.
“Why am I here!” I yelled, desperate for an answer but unwilling to show any weakness.
“You need to train. Stretch. Your legs. This…” Kosta latched the metal spreader to my upper thighs while connecting me to the feet of the table. “I’ll be back when I think you’re ready.”
Lilith’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, but she shook it off. Lilith was about as soulless as her father, but I thought she was a friend.
“Forty-eight hours later,” I whisper, leaning down and running my hand over the foot where the indentation of my cuffs remained. “And I still wasn’t wide enough for him when he continued to fuck me the next day.”
I look up at Kyrin as pain flashes through his eyes. Sweat beads down from his temple. “Fucking hate that bitch.”
“Who?” I ask softly, standing back to my feet.
“Lilith.”
I slowly make my way to him, noting how Killian stiffens beside Kyrin. “What did she do?”
“Does it matter?” Kyrin murmurs, searching my face and my lips. “The only person who really knows what it feels like—” He pauses, swallows and looks back at me. “Is you, but you hide it well.”
“I had my memories taken, Kyrin. I cheated,” I say, now that we’re toe-to-toe. “And aside from that, it’s all I’ve known. Pain. Hurt. Anguish. Neglect. This place, though…” I look around, shivering as I take in the cool stone walls, open fireplace with dust build up inside of it and neglected kitchen. “So bad.”
My eyes come back to Killian, who’s watching me carefully. “We tried to buy you at a show once, to save you. I remember what they did to you over those two days, Saskia, it came close to what I had to endure for the days I was here. We obviously didn’t know your name, didn’t know who you were, but I recognized you from the cabin.”
“You guys would have been fifteen?”
I do the math in my head. I didn’t have to question it. I never looked the same while in Patience. I was always dolled up. Made to look fake and plastic and artificial. There’s no way they would have thought I looked like the 8-year-old girl who left all those years before. Dressed in Barbie attire with a bedroom to match my dollhouse. All dolls had a dollhouse, and every dollhouse matched their room. When a doll would die, the house would be burned with the doll. Lilith was the leader of all the dolls, and rightly so, what with Kosta as her father.
I gulped, my eyes closing. “I don’t want to think about the last time I was here.”
The chaffing of the metal continued to bite into my flesh as my thighs ached to close. I didn’t want to be here, but I had to train. Kosta was very displeased with my performance, and he needed me more experienced. To be able to bend and stretch my body for long periods of time.
Someone walked in behind me, unlatching one hand and spreading it wide to attach to the other leg of the table. Now I was completely starfish, my ass in the air. Before I could protest, someone entered me from behind. Raw. Hot. I ached. I was dry, completely dry, so I screamed out in pain as the sting started to dissipate. It had only been one week since I had been taken by Kosta. One week. I was still inflamed by the brutality of him. He was upset. Upset that I couldn’t do something so simple as to keep my legs open for him. My inner thighs felt bruised, I was weak, so now I was here. To do better. Get better. The spreader for my arms and legs were now wide enough for my muscles and bones to protest under distress.
