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“We became good friends, him and I. He was practically frothing at the mouth to have a drug lord on speed dial. So desperate, in fact, that he made a deal with me. He wanted my connections. Little boy wanted to play with the big boys and start dipping his hands in my operations. And guess what his collateral was?” He leans in closer. “You,” he rasps.
A sob breaks free from my throat. His words, his truth, it hurts. I was always expendable to Ryan. He’d trap another girl in no time once I was gone.
“He was willing to trade you into the Ghost Killer if it meant moving up in the world. I was so happy to oblige.” An evil laugh trickles from his throat. “You know what the best part is? He didn’t know I already own you.”
His foot kicks out, but not where I need it. It lands right in my ribs, sending shockwaves of pain throughout my body. I roll from the kick, my arms lolling out sloppily as if he just heaved over a drunk person.
My tormenter’s face appears above me, sneering down at me like I’m dirt. “Can you tell me apart from the rest of the dirt on the floor, or do I blend in?” I tack on a little grin for extra measure. From this position, his foot will hit my temple and knock me out quicker.
His lip curls and just for a second, I imagine his foot lifting up and coming down on me, filling my vision with blackness.
It doesn’t though. He just shakes his head at me and sighs pitifully. That sound makes me angrier than anything. Pity. He could’ve said or done anything else to me and I wouldn’t have batted an eye. But pity makes my skin crawl.
I growl. “What the fuck are you waiting for, old man? Didn’t make a big enough impression scattering your little Ghost’s around so you gotta come pick on your daughter?” I spit the word at him with all the disgust I can muster.
He smirks at me. “You always were a daddy’s girl.”
Time stills, just for a moment as the words wash over me. And then I’m up, screaming and clawing at him with unpracticed movements. But I don’t care. The white-hot rage overwhelms my senses until I am is just rage.
I hate him. I hate him so much. It’s all I can feel. The hate growing inside of me like a tumor, so deep, it’d be impossible to cut out without bleeding me dry.
His laughter filters through, even as my nails make contact and rake across his dried-up skin. Even has blood pools from the scratches and leaks down his face and neck. With one backhand swipe, he knocks me flat on my ass. I hit hard. My tailbone taking the brunt of my weight before my head crashes down next, bouncing off the floor like a rubber ball.
I accept every bit of the pain the follows suit. Even as it blinds me, rendering me completely invalid and useless, I accept it. I welcome it with open fucking arms. If all I can feel is physical pain, maybe I won’t feel the proverbial claws ripping apart my mentality.
Tears track down my cheeks. Normally, I’d wipe them away before they could even think to fall. Showing weakness in front of Billy is the same as willingly opening your legs for him. Either way, he’ll be forcing himself inside of you, whether it’s with his pain or his dick. Or maybe even both.
This time, I let them fall. I just don’t care anymore.
A clatter of metal rings throughout the room and into my skull. Just barely, I’m able to lift my head enough to see the tray of food. An apple rolling off the tray and into a dark corner to join the spiders, a ham sandwich, a fruit cup, and a small water bottle. Nothing that would require utensils, of course. Though I suppose it’s a pretty nutritious meal for a prisoner.
“Eat up,” he chirps before walking back up the stairs, whistling a low tune as he does.
For the longest time, I stare at that food. I stare until more tears form in my eyes, blurring everything into one blob, and eventually until everything takes shape again and my eyes dry completely.
I don’t stop staring, not for a long while.
I SCARFED DOWN THE food and water, pacing myself enough so I didn’t get sick. I did the same for the next several meals. I can’t be sure exactly when I decided to escape. It feels like I’ve always known I would, even when I was deluding myself with the prospect of death. My entire life has been ruled by this man. And when I finally got a taste of freedom, it was snatched away by another abusive prick. I’ve never actually gotten much of a chance to rule my own life. Forge my own path. Decide my own future. All of those things were constantly taken out of my hands.
I refused to let Ryan have the privilege any longer, I’ll be damned if I let Billy have it, either.
The groan of wood beneath heavy weight immediately sets my heart into overdrive. Adrenaline surges, leaving my hands shaky. Billy will be coming down to talk to a completely different girl than what he left three days ago. He would throw the food down the stairwell and slam the door behind him. Three meals, three rotations. Three days. The same amount of time he made me wait last time. Which means I’ve been down here for at least a week.
I’ve been waiting for another moment with him, and now that it’s here, I’m not sure I’m ready.
But I don’t think I’ll ever be quite ready. Standing up to Billy is something I’ve never succe
ssfully achieved before. Anytime I’d try, I’d get kicked down and I was always too weak—too scared—to get back up and try again. In efforts to conserve my life, I just ended up handing it over to him on a silver platter.
“Are you going to let me shower?” I ask calmly, before he can utter a word to me. He looks down at me, his face arranged in his usual blank state.
It takes him a moment before he responds. “Do you think you deserve a shower?”
I hate Billy’s mind games. “Yes,” I answer confidently. Not because I’ve been a quote-on-quote good girl, but because I’m a human fucking being and I deserve basic rights like using a fucking shower.
He smirks at my tone. “Do you, now? And why’s that?”
I lick my lips, aiming for a new tactic. “Because I’m your daughter.”
