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“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
The man’s eyes move from her to me, but I’m too weak to stand, let alone rip him limb from limb like I wish I could.
“You don’t fucking talk to her, asshole. You hear me? She’s mine. Everybody knows it, and now you do too. Say one word to her, I’ll kill you myself.”
And with that, he grabs one of Boo’s braids and drags her away, slamming the door at the end of the hall behind them. The lock thunks back into place, and as their footsteps disappear, I can still hear the rage in his voice as he screams at her.
BOO
“Were you talking to him?”Alan bellows as he strikes me across the face, the impact of his blow knocking me off balance. I stagger, hitting the wall behind me with a thud. By sheer instinct alone, I wrap my arms around my face to protect myself from him. The action only pisses him off more. “Answer me!”
“No, I didn’t talk to him! I just told him I didn’t bring water.” I lie, like it’s the last one I’ll ever tell. Truthfully, it might be if Alan doesn’t believe me, because I’m dead if he doesn’t. That’s a sure-fire fact. “I was doing what you told me to do!”
“I told you to feed him and leave. Why were you still in there?”
“He scared me,” I whimper. “I was putting his bowl on the floor, like you showed me, and he moved. I didn’t know what to do.”Lie. Lie. Lie.
Alan’s large frame presses against me as he pulls my arms from around my head. His large fingers pinch my chin, dragging my gaze up to his. “I’m only going to ask this one more time, Boo. Did you talk to him?”
“No!” I cry out.
With a huff, Alan releases my chin. He doesn’t move, though, putting no distance between us. He stares down at me, his dark irises almost inking out the whites of his eyes. Alan’s been angry with me before, but never like this. What is it about the prisoner that has him and his entire club on edge? Ever since he arrived, there’s been an off feeling in the air that has replaced their initial excitement about his capture.
“If I catch you in there alone like that again, Boo, you know what’ll happen. If he tries to talk to you or touch you, you leave and come find me.” His shoulders square, his anger wafting out through every pore. Was that it? Did he think he touched me? Touched what was his?
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
“Good girl.” He tamps down his anger and smiles. I almost gag. “Always my good little mouse. So eager to please.”
Bile rises up my throat, but I swallow it down the best I can. If Alan knew how I really felt about him, things would be so much worse for me. Giving him the upper hand is the only way I survive here. The more he trusts me to follow his strict orders, the better chance I have of being left alone with the prisoner again. Today was by sheer chance. I’m going to need a fucking miracle for it to happen again. All I can do is play my part and hope for the best that I get that chance again.
Priest can help me. I know he can. He’s my only hope.
Hope.The word makes me laugh. I’ve put so much stock into that word since I got here. Hope that my uncle would pay off his debts and let me come home. Hope that Alan gets killed on a run and never comes back. Hope that I make it out of this hellhole alive.
Hope is a thing for those who wish for change, and have no means of actually achieving it. A feeble ideal that our mind clings to when nothing makes sense in the world. Here, hope gets you killed, or sold to the highest bidder. No, I can’t hope for the best. I have to grab it by the fucking balls and make it happen, even if playing along kills another piece of my soul every day I’m under this roof.
“I’m sorry for making you mad. I didn’t mean to make you angry with me.”
“How sorry are you?”
“Very,” I reply, trying not to choke on the word.
Alan’s hands roam down my body, going lower, until one digs in between my legs. “Is this cunt of yours wet for me? Does it ache for my touch?”
“Yes,” I hiss. I have to choke back tears as the lie passes through my lips. Thick waves of nausea roll through my insides like a swirling sea.
Play your part, Boo. Play it.
“Show me how sorry you are, then.”
It takes everything I have not to recoil when my hands fumble with his belt. My fingers tremble slightly when I go to pull down his zipper, feeling his cock already hard against it. Beating me did this. My screams and tears did this.
I hesitate, and Alan notices.
“Get it out,” he orders. “You want my forgiveness? Earn it.”
With a nod, I sink to my knees. Offering my mouth is a lesser evil than giving him my body. The disgust I feel for myself grows with each passing second.
