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He nods a few times, flicking invisible lint from the lapel of his suit. Always dressed to the nines when he actually shows his face.
Do this, Journey. Do that, Journey. It’s never hey, you doing good? Or hey, that mission didn’t go well; better luck next time, Champ.
Not for me. But I guess I’m paying him a debt. Why would he be nice to me? I’m just another cog in his stupid machine. The little snake he sends into the belly of the beasts.
“And what were you doing during the time they locked themselves away?” He raises a brow, his dark eyes zeroing in on my expressionless face.
Never let the enemy know what you’re thinking.
Never show your fear.
“I was a party-goer, Sir. As instructed. I blended in and kept watch, waiting for them to come out.”
Not a lie. That’s what I was doing after following them around to the basement and main floor again. Then came the dancing and pretending to drink and embracing my damn freedom for one single night as they fucked like bunnies in an upstairs bedroom. Then, they came out with hickies and disheveled clothes, leaving together out the front door, pushing past me and the three men, begging me to go upstairs with them.
I could have followed Jenni and Elias out the door. I could have stolen an expensive car littering the drive, something I’ve never thought about doing. For one split second, I almost went. I almost said no to the masked men and to the desire flowing through my body.
But my freedom meant more to me than following through with my mission. I came. I saw. I did exactly what he wanted me to do. He never specified leaving the party and following them home. My orders were: go to this address, attend the party in this outfit, and keep an eye on Elias, AKA Blue Spider—a notorious gang member on the south side of Briar Cove, California. Watch who he's close to, and never take your eyes off them.
So, I didn’t. For once, I followed my own wants and needs, putting them above everyone else.
“And when they came out?”
Jesus Christ, he’s full of questions. It’s like he’s trying to elude that he knows exactly what I did. Fuck. Can he see that I’m not a virgin anymore? Is it written on my face? I take a deep breath, pretending to look back over the night’s events.
“They came down the stairs together, holding hands. They looked like they had just banged.” Fuck, again, with the banged.
I swallow hard, tightening every muscle in my body. I know when I say something wrong because his face twists into an awful expression that looks like he’s sucked a lemon.
“And then they walked out the front door and drove away together.”
“And you didn’t follow them?” he asks, zeroing his eyes in on me.
“I didn’t know if I should, Sir.”
Every person has a tell when they’re about to explode. Mine? I ball my fists and a darkness swirls behind my eyes, clouding my judgments. It’s swift and explosive. Just how my monster brainwashed me. But I rarely let it happen. I’m more in check with myself these days. It’s how I survive.
But my monster? His nostrils flare—like now—his body turns rigid, and a devilish expression passes over his reddening face.
“Following them was your orders, Little Snake!” he shouts, throwing my lamp across the room until it shatters against the wall, leaving us in a darkness so consuming that my hairs stand on end. “You were to follow them EVERYWHERE!” His shouts bounce off the thin trailer walls, no doubt gaining my mother’s attention from the other room.
Not that she’d step up and help me through this. This situation was my fault, after all. And she’s the one who sold me to him to gain access to her drugs and probably the means to get them. I’m the one who suffers. Not her. Not him. It's my sister and I. All for defending ourselves. And he’s made sure I could never run away, by keeping my sister’s location a secret. It’s something I’ve never been able to figure out. I’m desperate to know, but he’s too smart. He’s hidden her too well.
I stand rigidly, keeping my chin up as he advances on me. Internally, I know what’s coming. There’s nothing gentle about his corrective ways. I close my eyes when his fist meets my face. Pain explodes, stars burst behind my eyes, and yet, I don’t dare cry out or whimper. It’ll only make it worse.
My silence continues when his greedy fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing as hard as he can. As the oxygen wanes and my hand wraps around his wrist, I mentally beg him to do it. Just end my fucking suffering and let me be free from the confines of his goddamn prison.
I’m so tired of being tired and suffering at his hands. My sister’s beautiful face pops into my mind, wrapping me in a heavenly peace as my limbs buzz and grow limp.
One day, I’ll escape this Hell. But today doesn’t seem to be that day.
I gasp when he releases my throat, stumbling back over my numb feet.
“Every day, you prove what a goddamn disappointment you are.” Me? Really? I didn’t do anything wrong. I followed his orders to a T. But nothing seems to please him.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I sputter, coughing hysterically, trying to bring air back into my depleted lungs. “I…” I shake my head, falling to my fucking knees like the pathetic being I am. But I learned a long time ago not to argue with him. He’ll only punish me more. Or worse, punish my sister.
My monster looms above me in the shadows, staring down with disgust written on his face. Am I pathetic? Most definitely. But I have to survive somehow. Always fucking survive. I have to pretend to be compliant or he’ll fucking murder me. Or worse, lock me in the cage and throw away the key.
