Chapter 4
Day 7
The door creaked open on its heavy hinges, and then slow footsteps. Panic and fear reared, and I tried to fade back into the mattress, cowering.
Jacob had blindfolded me after the waterboarding. The agony ... Panic setting off every nerve in my body as I struggled to breath but sucked in water instead. I tried to scream, to beg, to break free from the bonds that latched me to the bed, but there was no escape.
I was fighting for survival, yet losing with every water-drawn breath.
Jacob had done it time and again, pouring water over the towel on my face. I begged him to stop when he let me cough up water and breath for a few minutes. I sobbed, and I promised to do anything he wanted.
He ignored my pleas and did it again and I gagged, choked and struggled. Then when he was done, he took off the towel and replaced it with a blindfold.
The footsteps drew closer.
Was Jacob back? Was he going to torture me again? I wanted to fight, but I knew that it only made the torture worse. So I stayed quiet and still as the footsteps drew closer. Then I breathed in the familiar scent of what reminded me of a fresh cut grass—Logan.
Relief. Yes, I felt it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did.
But my tears were gone, I’m not sure where. He’d stolen them away. Him or Jacob? I wasn’t really sure anymore, because Jacob had broken me, and Logan had wrecked me. Tainted thoughts of Logan filled me. A hate I had to keep hidden and controlled, because if he left me here any longer I was going to lose whatever grasp on reality I had left. Already I’ll never be the same girl again; I’d at least like to be sane.
I felt the soft brush of his fingers on my arm and recoiled. His touch stopped, and I heard him shift as if he was hesitating. Then he walked away. I bit my lip to stop myself from begging him to come back, to release me, to take me out of here.
He strode back, and this time he untied the ropes that locked my wrists and ankles to the bed, and gently helped me sit up.
“Emily.” His fingers traced down the side of my face then to the curve of my neck. “You can’t fight here.”
His familiar touch awakened my oil-drowned butterflies, and I felt sick that my body reacted to his touch that way. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.
“Do you understand why?”
“Yes.” I had no choice. Hours I sat, blindfolded, shivering, wet, cold and alone while I contemplated my life. Fighting them would only make it harder on me. They wouldn’t kill me. No, instead they’d make me suffer each and every day until I gave them what they wanted. I saw the proof of that with those girls. There was no running and hiding from what Logan had brought me into. There was no fighting. All I had left was survival and hope.
“Good.” He put his hand under my elbow, helped me stand then guided me out of the room. He didn’t remove my blindfold, and I didn’t ask him to.
We walked for a while, going through doors and turns until I felt the brilliant sun beat down on my bare skin. I inhaled the scent of meat cooking and smoke as if I was at a barbecue. It mixed with the smell of flowers and ... Logan.
I had the urge to tear the blindfold from my eyes. Without my sight for hours on end, all other senses was heightened. Anxiety crept up on me with every step. I had no idea where we were going, if I was going to be tortured again. God, he could be leading me to a pit of lions and I wouldn’t know it. The fear escalated with each unknown step, and I started shaking so badly that I stumbled.
“Emily.” His voice was steady and calm, and for some reason it settled me enough to keep walking.
I jerked as I heard a door shut behind us. Logan put his hands on either side of my head, and I wondered if he was going to snap my neck, but when his fingers fiddled with the knot in the bandanna I breathed a sigh of relief.
He stopped, then he hands fell away. “Emily ...You’re safer if you cannot see.”
I was trembling so bad that my teeth started chattering. I wasn’t certain whether it was from the weakness in my limbs or the fear of what he was going to do to me.
I heard him walk across the room, stop, and come back toward me. His tone was ... deadly. I’d never heard anyone’s voice vibrating with such controlled fury before.
I jumped when his hand touched my cheek. “You need to fear me, not hate me.”
I did. I feared him. But I think I hated him more. No, I knew I hated him more. For what he’d done. For what he was doing. For the betrayal. Most of all, for tarnishing something so beautiful and making it ugly. I trusted him. I gave myself to him, and he took me, peeled back layers of my soul until he saw it all. Then he took me.
“Do you understand what must happen here?”
I nodded. I did. I understood what Logan wanted of me. He wanted what that girl with the dead eyes had become. The girl being rocked back and forth as some guy pounded into her from behind. He wanted the girl beneath the table. He wanted complete and utter submission.
He wanted me to be his slave.
“Answer me.”
I jerked at his abrupt tone. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”
His finger caressed my lower lip. “Open.” I didn’t want to. God, my mind fought it, and yet I swallowed my pride and opened my mouth. His finger slipped inside, and I wanted to bite down hard, but I didn’t. “Suck.” I did that too. “Good girl,” he soothed. His other hand came around my waist and brought me up against him.
I remained calm, using my breathing to release the panic that tip-toed across my body. Being blinded kept the fear alive inside me. This is what he wanted—fear.
“Leave us.”
I gasped, not realizing we weren’t alone. I heard footsteps walk past us, then the door opened and closed.
“Raul is testing you.” He ran a finger across my collarbone and then lower to the top of my breast. “And me.” A feathered touch swept across my nipple causing it to become erect as if I wanted his touch. Oh God, how was my body reacting to him like this? Why? How could I like what he was doing? Why was there a familiar twinge between my legs?
No. Stop.
I stiffened and tried to tune out his movements. Block him. Keep him out of me. “Please Sculpt, let me go.” It was natural calling him Sculpt as if using his real name would somehow weaken me to his power even more.
“That’s not possible.”
The anger simmered at the edge of my sanity. “So, what do you get for bringing me here? Besides the satisfaction of seeing a woman beaten, tortured, and humiliated?” I braved asking the question, knowing he may not answer, but hoping he’d give me something.
His hand stilled on my neck. I thought for a second he was going to choke me, but he remained completely still and quiet. I was waiting to be hit or dragged back to the basement, and I was now worried that I’d spoken when I shouldn’t have. I wanted to run and hide—cower. I was a mouse quivering and scared of every squeak I made or movement. I was so uncertain of everything that I sought the only reassurance I could get, and that assurance was from Logan.
“I get you.”
I felt the twitch of his finger on my skin. Logan was steady as a rock; he didn’t twitch. Never did he falter. There was something more to his answer. Raul may be giving me to Logan, but there was something else he wasn’t telling me.
“Why? Why are you doing this? Was everything we had ...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I shouldn’t have asked, and yet, I was losing control. I wanted answers. To know why he lured me into his trap.
Logan pulled me further into the room then turned me to face him, hands on both my arms. “Do you fear me, Emily? Because if you don’t Raul will know. He excels at knowing fear. You give him something else, he’ll know. Then we’re dealing with more than you ever imagined.”
“I hate you,” I shouted the words, and his grip tightened.
“I know,” his voice was steady and composed as if he was unaffected by my words. “But fear must override your hate. Remember what I taught you? You can’t have that here.”
What he taught me? The self-defence? What did ...?And then it hit me—he’d wanted my anger when he’d been teaching me to fight. After Logan reluctantly agreed to be my teacher, he took my fear and turned it into a controlled anger. He gave me confidence to fight back, and now ... now he wanted the fear back?
“You will fear me, Emily. And if you don’t ... I will make you.” His words were abrupt and unruffled. It sent shivers down my spine.
Did I fear him? Yes. I was scared of who he’d become, of what he was, and of that cold, emotionless face I thought I once knew. I was scared of how my body still reacted to him. How it betrayed me. And yes, I was scared that he’d give me to Raul. Because Raul I feared the most, and I was uncertain if I could survive him.
“This is his business. Raul kidnaps girls, women. They are trained then auctioned off. They bring him lots of money. You would bring him lots of money.”
“Kat and Matt—”
“You’re twenty, old enough to disappear. Raul made you disappear. One more girl missing won’t bring the law down to Mexico looking for you, especially with a mother who doesn’t give a shit about her daughter.”
That hurt, but was unfortunately true. My heart rate picked up, and I licked my dry, cracked lips. Kat and Matt wouldn’t give up on me. They’d come for me; they had to.
He took my wrists and tied what felt like rope around them. I start to hyperventilate, afraid of what he’d do, scared of being so vulnerable. “I do.”
“You do what, Emily?”
“I do fear you.”
Silence as he continued to tighten the ropes. All I could hear was the coarse nylon as it moved back and forth from whatever he was doing to it after he tied it to my wrists. Suddenly, he let me go, and I heard his footsteps stride away like he was angry. Then a door slammed in the opposite direction of where we entered the room.
I fell to my knees, my wrists tied together, and my skin cold and clammy and ... dirty. I felt so dirty inside and out. I’d been in the same clothes for days, no shower, little food.
The door opened again.
Footsteps. He stopped in front of me. “There are rules you have to follow. Kneel when someone enters the room. Never speak unless spoken to. Keep your head down, and if you want to live then you will submit to me.” He grabbed my wrists, pulled me to my feet, and raised my arms above my head. I felt something snag on the rope.
He let me go.
I yanked and realized he’d tied me to something above me. I tugged harder, but I couldn’t get free. Panic crawled over my skin.
His knuckles brushed over my neck, and then I felt the tug on the neckline of my shirt. With one yank he tore my shirt from my body.
I begged Logan in my mind. Begged and screamed to let me go, but I never emitted a sound. I took several deep breaths, knowing to fight would only prolong whatever he was going to do to me.
His hands undid my jeans, and he dragged them off as well; then my panties followed. I hung naked, quivering, and blinded. The degradation was so powerful that I wanted to curl up in a tomb and die.
He cupped my chin. It was soft and kind as if he was trying to give me some kind of reassurance. “It’s in you. I saw the strength,” Logan whispered. He ran his finger down my cheek then across my lips. “You need to be the lion here, Eme.”
I choked back the sob in my throat at the sound of his voice, the one I had known and loved. The coldness had dissipated, and my mind was screaming for him.
I heard the door creak open. “He is ready for you.”
Logan’s hand stiffened on me. “No screaming.”
I jumped at the tone of his cold voice.
He let me go, and I heard him stride across the room then abruptly turn and come back again. “Follow the rules. If you don’t ... you will be lost to this world, and I can’t stop it.”
Maybe I want to be lost.
Yes. No. God, I just wanted to go back. My mind was so screwed up that I couldn’t think straight. I was clinging to a man that no longer existed ... No, that was wrong. The man I knew had been a lie.
His breath drifted across my face, and then his hand was in my hair, pulling my head back. “Emily,” he breathed, saying my name like it meant something to him. “Don’t fail me.” His words were barely a whisper. If I could have seen him I’d have imagined those eyes, the ones that pulled me in day after day as he taught me how to fight, when he sang to me in the horse field, when he wiped ice cream off my chin. His sweet whispered words were in the voice I grew to love, the one that promised to protect me no matter what.
He promised never to hurt me. He promised.
“When I come back ... remember the rules.”
I heard his steps fade away, then the door closed, and the lock turned.
Oh God, help me. Don’t leave me like this. Come back.
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Three hours later
The blindfold was wet from my silent tears. I lost all the feeling in my hands from the ropes tied tight around my wrists. I prayed. For salvation. For death. For Logan to come back. I had nothing left inside. Nothing. The emptiness was like a vacant shell, hollow, alone without a single thought except the instinct to survive.
My lips were so dry now that they’d split open in several places like tiny paper cuts. I was cold despite the warmth in the room as I stood naked for hours. I listened for doors opening and footsteps constantly. It became so surreal that every few seconds, I swore I heard footsteps, yet it was nothing.
My imagination ran away with me, and I couldn’t get it back under control. Images of being left here for days on end. Starving and alone. I never thought being alone would be so hard to endure, but the silence was like a knife being dragged across my skin. The fear of not knowing. The waiting. Unsure for how long I’d be left here.
I stood hanging by my arms, my tiptoes barely holding me up. Agony ate its way through my muscles as I shook uncontrollably.
Then, finally ... footsteps.
Voices.
The door opened, and I gasped, choking back the sobs. My chest heaved with relief and yet ... uncertainty. I knew I wasn’t supposed to cry, and if I did he may leave me here longer.
Voices closed in on me.
Logan’s and someone else’s. The footsteps drew closer, and I tensed, waiting for the pain or a caress. I didn’t know which. I couldn’t. My body was so distressed with the frantic worry that I was sweating. I took deep breaths like Logan had taught me in self-defence to control my fear.
But that was what he wanted—fear. Well, he had it. I was living in an ocean of it.
The familiar scent of Raul drifted into me, and my nerves sparked.
Please. No. Don’t let him take me.
I’d do anything, absolutely anything so that Raul didn’t take me.
“I will not tolerate her behavior in my house, Sculpt. Some of the men asked me why I hadn’t killed her for the disrespect.”
“I know how you operate, Raul,” Logan replied.
Raul’s hand traced up over my breast, rough calloused hands far different than Logan’s. I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood in my mouth. “Trust is earned, Sculpt. You must earn that. As must she.” His fingers gripped my chin. “She is very beautiful. When you tire of her, she’ll make a good amount on auction.”
“I suspect she will. But for now, she is mine. Aren’t you, Emily?”
Never. Never again. “Yes.” I knew my voice was trembling. Logan, God, don’t do this to me. Even though I couldn’t see, I felt Logan tense. It was like the air stopped for a brief second as the room went silent.
“If you lose the fight, she’ll be sold.”
“I won’t lose.”
Raul’s finger slipped across my dry lips, and I knew what I was supposed to do. I didn’t want to do it, and my stomach churned violently at the thought of what I had to do. But I did. I couldn’t face that room downstairs again. Not now. I didn’t know if I ever could again. I slipped my tongue out and licked it then drew it into my mouth.
Raul chuckled. “Better.” He let me suckle on it for a few seconds then withdrew.
My heart was pounding so hard, I swore they could hear it. The tears sat in the rims of my eyes, teetering like a ball on a ledge. I clenched my fingers into fists, nails digging into my palm, trying desperately to focus on anything but what was happening.
I was glad I was blindfolded. It may have kept the fear alive of the unknown, but it also saved me from seeing Raul. Of looking into his narrowed eyes as I sucked his finger. I’d have never been able to force myself to do it if I’d been able to see his face. Had Logan known that? Was there a reason to him keeping me blindfolded? No. I had to stop fantasizing Logan was in any way helping me.
“You’re a lot like me, Sculpt,” Raul said. “Determined. Resilient. And I see that merciless confidence when you fight.”
“I’m nothing like you, Raul,” Logan replied. “I have what you don’t, and that is patience.”
Raul laughed. “Ahh, you know me well. Yes, that is true. I’m not a patient man.” Footsteps shifted, and the hardwood floor creaked. “She makes one mistake, and she leaves. I won’t have disobedience in my home—ever. You should know that, Sculpt.”
The door opened and closed then I heard a key turn in the lock. Silence. They’d both left. The sobs choked me as I broke into a thousand fragments. Why did he hate me so much to do this to me? What had I done wrong? Why me?
The blindfold was soaked by my tears. The pain had gone ... No, it was there; my mind had faded it out in order to survive. What remained was weakness. That was how I felt. Too tired to fight. Afraid to fight.
And God yes ... I wanted to be loved by him again. For him to hold me in his arms and take this nightmare away.
Did I really think that? How could my mind even contemplate loving him after what he’s put me through? But I did. I couldn’t control it. He’d swept me up and taken possession of my heart, even though he was now ripping it to shreds.
But I wanted Logan to save me.
I wanted the man I fell in love with to carry me away from this place.
And I wanted him to carry me away ... and then ... then I wanted to kill him.
The door opened a while later. I was half-aware of Logan’s hands on my wrists as he undid the ropes and the blindfold. I was too weak and tired to do anything except fall into his arms.
He picked me up and carried me to a bed and then pulled a white silk nightgown over my head. I thought I heard him whisper something to me as he laid me down, but the pain in my body overrode his useless words as my body screamed with agony.
He walked away then came back, and the mattress sagged as he sat beside me. He took my right hand first, gently washed it with warm water then applied cream to my burned-raw skin. He slowly massaged my cold, numb fingers then repeated the process with my other wrist and hand. I closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wanted. It felt good, and yet I wanted the pain as a reminder of what he’d done to me.
He placed the cream on the nightstand, and grabbed a bottle of water beside it and held it to my lips. I didn’t hesitate as I greedily drank. When I’d drained half of it, he pulled it away, and put it back. I watched as he stood, peeled off his clothes until he stood naked. Was he going to sleep with me? Have sex with me? Was he going to make me? Did he think it was okay because I’d willingly had sex with him once?
He stared down at me. I stared back. Neither of us moved for what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds.
He looked beautiful, and it pissed me off that he could look so beautiful when he was so ugly. He pulled back the sheet and then slipped in beside me. I turned around and tried to scoot away, but he expected it and was ready, arms locking around my middle and dragging back against him, so my back was tight to his chest. I tensed as the pain from the welts intensified. He didn’t lighten his hold as he then hooked his leg over mine like an anchor, the weight pinning me in place.
It was weird, the touch of his warm skin and his arms around me ... it was comforting. As if I’d been starved that feeling of kindness, and that I’d take it from the man who had stolen it from me in the first place.
God, was I that weak to take any gentleness that was offered?
His lips pressed to my ear, and my breath caught in my throat. Why? Why was he doing this? I was so confused at who he was. Cold and unattached one moment and now ... now he was holding me in his arms as if he cared.
Logan’s fingers splayed over my stomach just below my belly button. I wanted to cry. Not for the pain that he was putting me through but for this moment that made me love him again.
I needed him to be cruel. It was easier to be disgusted by him.
But this ...
I tried to push his arm off and move away, but he tightened his hold. “Stay still, Emily.”
I stopped.
He won. He’d told me that once. He always won.
As I lay in bed staring at the wall, my wrists sore, muscles aching from shivering for so long. I felt myself slipping. Not my mind, but myself. It was as if my body was separated from my thoughts and emotions.
I realized it felt safer this way. My body was just an apparatus, something to be used. It had no real value any longer. I could let it go and drift away to safer pastures with my mind. Some place where no one could reach me.
Even Logan.
But I missed him. It was crazy, I knew, but somewhere a part of me still loved the man that I’d fallen for. The man who kissed me and made love to me as if he thought I was the most precious woman in the world.
But that tiny memory of the Logan I knew was slipping past my reach. He was fading, and I wanted to latch onto him before he slipped away from me forever. In the darkness, in the familiar arms of a man I once loved, I pretended. I pretended that he was the Logan I fell in love with and he was here to protect me from the daylight and the reality that came with morning.
I closed my eyes; the heat of his naked body up against mine and then ... then just as I was falling asleep I felt his fingers interlink with mine and his lips kiss the back of my shoulder.