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Another punch to the back of the head is my answer. He doesn’t c
are that I’m his blood. Billy raping me was never about attraction or desire. It was always about power. About using fear to keep me in line. This time is no different.
Before, I’d stay quiet and let Billy defile my body. The harder I fought him in the past, the harder he fucked me. Even knowing that, I don’t stay quiet this time. I don’t stay still or docile.
No. Pent up rage is exploding from me, eviscerating any semblance of strength I had left inside of me. I scream when he enters me. And I continue to scream long after he finds his release. I scream and scream until my throat is raw and the cellar door is locked behind him.
Even when my voice gives out, the screaming continues to resonate through my head until all five of my senses are consumed by my pain.
DAYS PASS BEFORE BILLY visits me again. Wrapped food and a bottle of water was thrown down the steps before the door slammed behind him. Three times a day for the past three days. I refused to touch any of it. Part of me dared to, just hoping that he poisoned the food so I could let my miserable existence fade. But that’s not Billy’s style. He’d rather let me suffer and agonize, sweating over the prospect of him murdering me. All I’m doing is anticipating it.
I lay on my stomach next to the cot, face smashed against the cool cement floor. A stream of drool stems from my mouth, pooling beneath my cheek and pruning the skin. I don’t care enough to wipe it away. I don’t care enough to do anything. Right now, he’s ignoring me. Letting me rot in this dank basement and be left alone with my thoughts. Bastard knows what he’s doing too because fuck, if my thoughts aren’t spiraling down.
I don’t want to live anymore.
I don’t want to exist.
To be.
If there were anything to kill myself with in this basement, I would’ve done it already. And he knows that, too. He knows it and he’s dragging out the torture. That’s why he took the wooden chair away. He must’ve seen me eyeing it, already planning on breaking the chair and using the sharp end of the wood to cut my wrists. He walked away with that chair in his damn hand.
I tried to crack wood off the wooden steps, but I had nothing to use and my body was too weak to even get a splinter.
What point is there in life anyways? Amelia has her own family, and though I know she loves me dearly, she can also live without me.
There’s Mako.
But he hates me.
I close my eyes tightly. I can’t keep the onslaught of memories flashing through my mind, despite my desperate attempts to push them out of my head. Images of Mako flicker through my thoughts like a slide show. Of his smile. His determined expression anytime he’d try to knock some sense into me. His sexy smirk when I said or did something he liked. And his acceptance when I told him about my sordid past.
He’s done so much for me. Given up so much. Risked everything for me. And I couldn’t open my mouth and give him one piece of information that could’ve changed everything. He could’ve caught Billy, and I’d never be in this stupid fucking situation. Once again, I got myself here.
I was too selfish. Too weak. Too scared. All I could consider is that Billy would come for me if I snitched.
Look where that got you, dumb bitch.
I could laugh at the irony.
A stream of light shines on my body before I hear the groan of wooden steps beneath his weight. I clamp my lids shut, too tired and weak to lift a hand to block the light. Each step feels like a thud of my heart.
“You look pathetic,” he sneers, his fancy black shoes appearing in my line of vision. I don’t move, hoping, praying, he kicks out that shoe just one time, hard enough to knock me out completely. Once I’m out, he can keep kicking for all I care.
His shoe can snuff my life out like he does to his cigarettes.
“I am pathetic,” I correct weakly, sucking in my lips to stop the stream of drool.
“No fight? No will to live? How boring.” A wad of spit lands on my cheek. I recoil, causing every ache in my body to flare to life.
See, this is why I stayed still. The cement numbed my pain as long as I didn’t move.
With an angry swipe, I fling the spit off my cheek. Asshole.
“I’d rather not trade diseases with you,” I mutter snidely. He laughs. Laughs at my words. At my anger. Everything about this situation is funny to him.
“Ryan was right about you. You’re so easy to kick down, it’s boring.” The breath in my lungs seizes.
“What did you say?” I whisper.
