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The men that pay to use and abuse me have jobs and fucking families. I am assuming that some even have daughters of their own, and yet they still come here to hurt and laugh at me while they force their dicks down my throat. And when they are done, they leave me soaked in their cum, and they go home to their daughters and wives and tell them how much they love them. What a fucking joke. There is no such thing as love, and if there is, and if this is it, please fucking just let me die.
Does everyone have their own idea of what love actually is? Do I have it all fucking wrong? Is what Sebastion does to me every night,love?
He never forgets to tell me that he loves me. He never fails to remind me that I, in fact fucking belong to him like some fucking trophy or something. With how controlling and possessive he is getting, I am surprised he lets anyone else fuck me at all, but this is a business. He needs to make money, and he has no problem reminding me that I make him the most, and for that reason, even though he gets jealous, he will allow others to have me.
Yes, I just used the word jealous to describe him. He has told me so and has said that he doesn’t like the way my face looks as they fuck me. He doesn’t like seeing my body react to them inside me, like I can fucking help that. He is fucking nuts, and every second of every day, it just seems to get worse.
“You will eventually give into me all the way, Nicole,” he confides.
My heart races with his words, the truth of his words, because honestly, my body has already given in, and soon, my mind will follow. It is just what is going to fucking happen.
“Nicole, I do this because I love you. Why do you think I am the first and last man to fuck you? Huh,” He says, like he is doing me a favor or something.
I slowly turn my head and lock eyes with his. I know he wants my words, my screams, but he won’t fucking get either.
“I make sure you know that I am in love with you. Yes, you make me money, but you should know it is more than that now. You are my whore, my slut, my puppet,” he whispers.
His words hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. I watch him push off the wall and walk across the room, stopping in front of me. He kneels and leans in, connecting his lips to mine. I close my eyes as a tear leaves my eye and rolls down my face. It’s over just as quickly as it started, and he stands, turns around, and walks across the room to the door.
He stands in the doorway and takes a deep breath. “The sooner you accept me and this, the easier it will be on you, Nicole. It is up to you,” he says softly as he walks out, closing the door.
I’m left alone to spiral with all the negative fucking racing thoughts, and his words echo inside my head. I turn my head and look back up at the ceiling. At least for the next eight hours, I will be the only person in this room, and maybe death will come for me tonight. You never know; maybe, just maybe, death has finally decided that I am worthy of him.
12
Christian
Ty parks the car next to the same tree we park beside whenever we come here, and the same thing always happens. I get out, and he stays in the car, giving me privacy to talk to my Madre. We never found her body even though I keep looking, but that is something my Padre will forever keep from me. A big fucking part of me regrets killing him without getting him to tell me where her body was, but at least she has a grave now. A grave that is hers and a place where I can come and talk to her.
I witnessed what my Padre did to her every damn day. The boy saw fucking everything, and for the longest time, I believed it was how men treated women. It was how you got women to fall in line and do as you ask. Now I know my Padre was wrong. Shit, he was wrong about a fucking lot, but there are some things I can’t fucking undo.
I can’t undo that I just stood there as my Padre beat my Madre or that I wanted to fucking please him so bad that there was nothing my young self wouldn’t do for his approval. All those fucking things have played a role in me becoming who I am. Some things I wouldn’t fucking change, other things I wish weren’t a part of me.
I grab the handle, open the door, and slide out of the car, softly shutting the door behind me. I look to the sky and watch the clouds roll in; the light of day is almost gone. This is the only time of day I feel comfortable coming here, partly because I have so much shit going on during the day. The other part is I don’t know if she would be ashamed of who I am today. The blackness of night makes me feel more comfortable like the mostro inside me is locked away for a short time.
My Madre made it very clear when I was young that she didn’t want me in this life, and now I run everything. Part of me believes she wouldn’t approve of who I am today, and the other part of me knows that she would still love me because I am her son. What a fucked up battle inside my head right now; it only seems to happen when I come here.
I tighten my hold on the roses as I walk the broken stone path that leads to my Madre’s grave. I stop in front of her headstone and look at the inscription.Loving Mother, you will forever be remembered.It took me fucking days to figure out what I wanted on her headstone. There are so many things I want to tell her that my mind wants to say to her, but every fucking time I come here, my mouth and mind don’t connect, and I am lost for words.
My knees go weak as I lean down and rest my hand on the top of the headstone. I slowly kneel in front of her headstone and gently place the roses in front of her stone. Tears build in my eyes as I lower my head, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.
Fuck man, this life is so fucking fucked up. My Padre wanted to make sure that I became exactly what he wanted. He thought my Madre was a threat, and maybe she was. And maybe if she were still alive, things would be different; maybe I would be different. But I would never have run into Nicole at that coffee shop if I was different. I would have never felt the peace she gave me from her eyes, voice, and skin. That is something I will never fucking regret.
I lift my head and let my tears fall freely down my face. “Hey, Madre,” I whisper, my hands still resting on the top of the headstone. “I met someone I think you would have loved,” I say softly as I look at the old stone. Nature is taking it over, and the weather has worn it down. Everything in this life gets worn down by time, weather, chaos, and violence, and her headstone is no different.
“Her name is Nicole, Madre,” my voice is low and shaky. Fuck I wish I could look into my Madreseyes right now. It seems that my memories of her fade each day, making me forget things about her that my younger self remembered so well. My older self is starting to lose them, and it fucking scares me; I don’t want to forget her. I fucking can’t forget her.
“She looked into my eyes, saw my darkness, my mostro, and didn’t turn away. But I was stupid and walked away to protect her. It was a mistake. A big mistake, Madre.” I confess.
“This girl has taken over my dreams, my thoughts, and my emotions. Everything is surrounding her. I will find her, Madre. I know I will. I have to,” I whisper as I stand up straight.
The rain starts to fall, soaking my black button-up shirt. My hands form into fists as I take one last look at her headstone. I couldn’t save my Madre, I lost her, but I will not fucking lose Nicole. I will fucking find her, and when I do, I am never fucking letting her go.
13
Nicole
2 Years, 9 Months Held Captive
