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I was trying to bide time, trying not to set him off again. But it was hard when everything inside me was screaming to fight. It wasn’t working out well for me though. I needed to learn from that, but it was difficult when I was so desperate for him not to touch me.
He grinned, the sight of it so evil that it made my stomach turn. “Sure you do. He fucked you two nights ago.” He grabbed both arms again, yanking me up as he stood. My heart hammered in my chest now that I knew who he was talking about.
Romeo. His name was Romeo.
“Why me?” I whispered. I thought I could get some information out of him, some understanding, some reason as to why he’d chosen me, over and over again.
But he didn’t like that question. Not at all. And the reason I knew he didn’t like it was because as an answer, I gained a punch to the ribs. Followed by another, and another.
My painful groans filled the room, bouncing off the walls as he tried to cause as much agony as he could.
“You need to fuckin’ learn!” he screamed, so loud that it hurt my ears. The calm demeanor he’d had only seconds ago was gone in the blink of an eye, and in its place a madman. “You don’t ask the goddamn questions.”
His punches came higher, his other hand wrapping around my throat and pinning me to the wall. I tried my hardest to keep my painful shoulder in one position but it was no use with the way he was slamming me against the wall and then pulling me off of it just to do the same thing again.
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
I just wanted the pain to stop.
I just wanted to be left alone.
I just wanted to not be here.
“You will be fuckin’ sorry, you dumb cunt.”
He spun me around, banging my face against the wall and pinning me to it. My pulse thrummed, my ears popping as I went lightheaded. It was a physical reaction to the mental knowledge of what he was about to do. Maybe I was overthinking, maybe I was jumping to conclusions—
His hand reached for my ass and thrust between my cheeks.
Nope. I was right. He was going there again, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Why did I have to be so weak? Why couldn’t I fight and get away? I hated how much he could manhandle me. I hated it. I hated him. I hated myself.
“Keep still,” he demanded, pulling my hips out and smushing my face against the wall. His other hand gathered my wrists, holding them behind my back, and even if I had the energy to fight him—again—the agony from my shoulder was so unbearable that it was all I could concentrate on.
Until…
His finger burst into my asshole, ripping through the flesh. He didn’t wait to stretch me out, instead, I heard a zipper undo, then the sound of spit followed by wetness. I winced and cried out as he pushed his dick inside me, tearing at the partially healed skin.
I closed my eyes, silent tears trailing down my face as I leaned against the wall, half bent over. There was nothing I could do. I was on the losing side here and he was making sure I knew that.
He was breaking me down piece by piece. And he was enjoying it. Maybe he liked my fight because it meant he could hurt me more.
And as his disgusting groan filled my ears and he came inside my ass, I realized that me fighting was giving himexactlywhat he wanted. I hated to admit that the idea of simply just taking what he did to me and not answering him back would make things easier for me.
It wasn’t in my nature to take things lying down, but as he pulled out and shoved me away, I realized that I had to protect myself. I had to bide my time. I had to do what he said. It was the only way out of this.
“Get her ready. He’s coming tonight,” Mr. Pozzi murmured, and a second later, his footsteps sounded out followed by another pair.
Both men were gone, but I knew I wasn’t alone because I could feel someone standing there, and I knew it was Seven before she whispered, “Let me help you get cleaned up.”
I wanted to scream and shout at her, to blame her because she didn’t let me escape when I was first brought here. If she’d just not stopped me… I closed my eyes, knowing that if she hadn’t stopped me, someone would have and maybe it wouldn’t have been with a punch, but instead a bullet. It wasn’t Seven’s fault for doing what she did. She’d been broken down too, and if it was even half of what Mr. Pozzi had done to me, then I understood why she was towing the line.
I glanced up at her as she halted next to me, holding her hand out to me. She didn’t trust me yet, and I wouldnevertrust her, but maybe I could fake it to find out everything I could about this place. I already knew she’d been here for nearly a year, the longest out of all of us. She had to know more than anyone else and I needed to use that to my advantage.
So, I placed my hand in hers and let her help me up.
I’d use her to save myself. I’d use anything and anyone to save myself. Because the thought of Mr. Pozzi touching me just one more time made me want to murder him in cold blood.
I grinned at the thought. The idea of that man not breathing was the only thing that got me to stand up on both legs and shuffle to the bathroom. I’d do what he wanted for now because I had a plan. I had a realistic view of getting out of here. But he—Mr. Pozzi—would pay for what he’d done, even if it meant taking my last breath in the process.
