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There’s blood dripping from her nose, and she’s lying upside down. Her head hanging over the edge of the bed. Her bed. I know the blanket my mother bought her when we were younger.
I watch in horror as she’s violated once more by the old man. When he slowly turns to the camera and chuckles as his cock is lodged in her throat, bile rises from my stomach, but because of the ball gag in my mouth, there’s nowhere for it to go but spill over the sides.
My heart catapults wildly when his face comes onscreen, and the vibrator against my clit is turned up harshly, causing pleasure and pain to skitter through me like a ten-pound weight.
An orgasm rocks me when I look into the eyes of my father, and all I can do is succumb to the force of agony that I’m thoroughly fucking broken.
I’ve been torn from a normal life.
I’m severed.
It was at that moment I knew there wasn’t any hope for her. Unless she ran. I pray every day that she managed to get away from him. Deep down, I wish she killed him. Every day since that one, I've prayed my sister killed my father for what he did. Because I know if she didn’t, I would do it. And I wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt for it.
He deserves to be tortured. To be maimed while he slowly bleeds out. My blood is on fire, and the need to slice him limb to limb runs rife through my veins. And in this moment, I realize what Drake felt all those years ago. That’s how he spent his life, wanting to kill the man who was meant to love and guide him through life.
I saw it in his eyes. Each time he came for me, when those blue eyes met mine, I would see deep into his tortured soul. All the time I spent in that hellhole, I never believed Drake was anything like Malcolm. And even now, I know he’s nothing like the monster who tried to kill me.
Something tells me that since I’ve passed twenty-one, I’ll no longer be needed, and I’ll find my end in this hell. The men here aren’t fond of older girls. I’ve met one other girl since I’ve been here. She is twenty-one, and I know she’s been here since she was very young. The thought has my body trembling in fear and revulsion.
But for me, the girl who had everything in a life that’s now a distant memory, I now have nothing. My father gave me all my heart desired. The eldest of two, I was generally the one everyone focused on. Harper would hide in my shadow. Sadness envelops me at the thought of her being hurt in any way. I couldn’t protect her.
It’s so silent in this basement I wonder where he is. Will he come down here tonight and take me? Or will I have a reprieve from the torment? I never try to fight him anymore; he enjoys it when I do. So, I lie there. A doll. Taking what he gives. The pain, the force he grunts into me with, and the grip on my flesh that leaves blue and purple bruises over my body.
I’m no longer the princess of an upcoming empire. I’m now a fuck-toy for a man who enjoys depraved, vile things. And I’m his vessel for that. Nothing worth more than he offers. My mind has almost cracked. It’s what he wants. He told me so.
All this time, I thought I’d be able to get out. All my life, I thought I was strong, that nothing in this world could ever make me lose hope, but this is different. The monsters I’m held by are far worse than anything I’ve ever encountered in my short life outside this place. The agony I’ve been forced to endure has broken my soul. I’ve given up after all this time, because there’s no way I’ll ever be able to survive much longer.
My body is weak. They don’t feed me enough to be able to fight my way out. The water I drink is murky, clouded over with whatever drugs they’re feeding into my system. I swallow every drop because it’s the only sustenance I get. My fight is slowly fading.
Sounds echo when the keys enter the keyhole to the door which allows them to enter the basement where I’ve lived for four years. I flinch when I hear their footfalls, heavy and ominous. Two sets. I can still count the way I was taught. In this hell, I try to keep my mind busy, but it’s difficult when there’s nothing to offer stimulus.
“The little one is awake.” His voice comes from the other side of the cell before he appears at the bars. I scoot up the bed, pulling my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my calves. It’s pointless hiding. He’s already seen me naked, but each time he comes here, I try to conceal myself. All I’m wearing is a pair of white cotton panties they’ve allowed me to cover up with. I’m not allowed a blanket. There’s one pillow, which feels like it’s made of stone.
