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Lucia
Iwake up, warm and… not well-rested, but also not inside a small box, terrified about never being let out. So that’s a relief. I had this fear that they would put me back in while I was out.
The only person in the bed with me is Victor. He’s sitting propped up against the headboard, a pillow behind his back. He’s reading something on his tablet with one hand, while the other one pets my hair. It’s nice.
A good night’s sleep has helped clear my mind though. This is the same asshole who had me locked up. He’s the one who sent pornographic videos of me to my father. He made me come while a torture porn vid played. He made me watch while Angelo tortured and killed someone I thought of as family.
I turn my back to him, both angry and scared.
“Did you sleep well?” Victor asks in a low voice. He stops petting me, and I hear the sound of his fingers tapping against the tablet.
I don’t want to answer him. Yes, I’d slept well, because I hadn’t been locked back in that trunk—there wasn’t much of a challenge between the two. But I want to come back with something sarcastic and scathing to let him know that I understand I’m being manipulated.
I’m too afraid to.
I’m terrified that if I talk back to him, he’ll just lift me up and dump me back into the box, leaving me there until I learnmannersor something.
“Yes.” It’s all I can say without losing my cool, even if the word is muttered into the pillow.
“That’s good.”
I wait for him to say something else, but Victor taps away at his tablet without another word.
I’m painfully aware of how sticky and gross I feel, and I lift my head up slightly to ask, “Can I take a shower?” I need to wash the three of them off my skin. They’ve stained my mind, but the least I can do is scrub all traces of them from my body until I can deal with the rest.
Then it occurs to me to wonder why I’m even asking for permission. I start to sit up, not even waiting for the answer. I can shower if I damn well want to.
But before I can clear the bed, he says, “Yes, you may. You’re a good girl for asking, Lucia.”
I grit my teeth. I’d asked out of fear, not out of respect. Not because I want to be somegood girlfor him. But I desperately need to use the bathroom and get clean, and I’m willing to debase myself just a little more if it means I have the chance.
I get out of bed, grimacing when I feel the dried cum between my legs, and I head to the bathroom. I hesitate, then close the door… most of the way. I can’t bring myself to close it the rest of the way, too afraid to piss Victor off and at the same time getting pissed off at myself for caring.
But there’s that box.
Goddamn it.
I leave the door open by about an inch, and I’m grateful when he neither calls out nor follows me. I have the bathroom alone. I’m alone, and it’s both glorious and terrifying, and part of me wants to slink back to bed to remind myself that I’m not completely by myself.
That I’m with Victor.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I use the bathroom, blessedly in peace, though I take care not to take too much time. I don’t know how long it’ll be before he comes to drag me out of here, but I want to take advantage of what I have. I need to get clean, but I need to think just as much.
I turn on the shower, wishing I didn’t have to use his bath products. It had made me feel good to smell like him before, like it was something comforting like a blanket, but now it turns my stomach. It feels like he’s marking me in yet another way, inside and out, and if I wasn’t so desperate to get clean, I’d have eschewed them entirely.
But I scrub myself down, trying to get clean everywhere and rid myself of their touch. I stay in the hot spray so long that I’m sure Victor’s going to come for me, but he’s patient. He leaves me to my shower until I get so hot that I reluctantly turn the water off. I grab a towel and dry myself off, stalling.
In some ways, it would be easier for him to just come in and get me, because the idea of going willingly back to him is just heart wrenching. I don’t want to. But where else am I going to go? Maybe he’ll let me return to the suite, or hell, even the basement.
The thought of either one terrifies me. As much as I’m enjoying my alone time in the bathroom, I’m keenly aware of the fact that I’mnotalone, and I need that.
Damn it.
I finally wrap the towel around myself and open the door.
In my mind, Victor is a monster. All three of them are. So seeing him just sitting there, tapping placidly away on his tablet, is bewildering. He shouldn’t be so damn handsome or alluring. Those hands have brought me so much pain; I shouldn’t want him to touch me.
