Nearly Broken (30 page)

It was weird looking
at the two of them. If she hadn’t been so out of it, they
might’ve been able to pull off being an actual, good-looking
couple. She was young, lean and judging by the erect nipples through
her slip, either cold or turned on by his touch. He was probably
thirty and ripped all over, with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes. And
it made it all the more gut-wrenching, because this
normal
looking guy kept sex slaves hidden away in his house.

After stroking
Veronica’s hair for a moment, he added, “I always told
him locking you up and drugging you was stupid. I offered to buy you
off him.” My head jerked up and a wicked smile spread across
his face. He knew he had my attention now. “But alas, he was
content with just raping you.”

Huffing my
exasperation, I snapped, “And you don’t?” I blurted
it before I could stop myself and I regretted it instantly. His eyes
tightened, his forehead furrowing, and he stalked me as I awkwardly
scooted backwards until I hit the wall. Flinching, I turned my head,
expecting him to hit me when he crouched down in front of me.
Trapped
like a fucking rat.

“First off…”
He began, surprisingly calm, and my eyes peeked open, my head
cautiously turning back. With a smile any women but me would swoon
over, he continued, “You’re saucy. And it’s kind of
turning me on.”

Ugh
…

“But you’d
better keep your mouth in check,” he threatened. He didn’t
have to tell me what would happen if I didn’t, but it still
wasn’t enough to tame the anger that resided deep within me.
“Secondly, have you noticed you’re the only one in chains
here? Veronica is free to roam the house. I don’t have to keep
her drugged and locked down in the basement like my brother. Thirdly,
I don’t rape.”

Funny, because he had
already drugged and locked me up at this point, and he sure as hell
had no problem raping me the last time I was in this position.

“Bullshit. I
remember what you did to me,” I whispered, the words scaring me
as the memories of his visits came to the forefront of my mind, and
the knife he always brought with him.

“Apparently not,
because I’ve never fucked you.”

“I remember
you,” I said slowly. “I remember you cutting me.”

He inhaled a long
breath through his nose, eyeing me very carefully. It disturbed me
how gentle he was pretending to be right now, because I knew better.
I knew what he was capable of. “Guilty,” he admitted.
“Cutting is something I lean on when I’m bored sexually.
And Charles kept you so fucking doped up you were nothing but a fish
that flopped around out of water. There’s no fun in that. I
want participation, not a dead fuck.

“It was a waste,
what he did to you. I told him I could tame you but he still wouldn’t
give you up. Perhaps I got a little bitter, maybe cut you too many
times.” He reached out and brushed his fingers against my arm.
“But then you went and screwed up your body even more, and
although I’m glad you had a constant reminder of what you did
to my brother, these burns need to go.”

I pulled my arm away,
brushing down the goosebumps that popped up when he touched me. That
was when I noticed it. The wrinkles and bumps weren’t as
profound as they once were, and when I looked to inspect my burn up
close, I realized the contrast in color wasn’t nearly as harsh
anymore either. I pressed down on it and the nerves still felt numb.

Dumbfounded, I began
inspecting all my spots, not caring that I peeked down my gown with
him crouched just a foot away. All my spots were much smoother, the
color clash a little different, a redness lingering even where there
was no redness before. It was too dim to really see, but normally in
this kind of light, I could easily tell where the borders between
healthy and burned skin fell. Now, not so much, except on my worst
spot.

“You’re
welcome,” he said, taking a hold of my arm to inspect again for
himself.

“How?” I
was almost in awe. These burns had been such a burden on my
socialization; I had no idea there was a way to heal them!

“It’s
amazing what can be done with lasers these days.” Twisting my
arm to better examine it, he added, “All your spots will need
at least one more treatment though, if not two. The redness will fade
in a few days. It’s just a reaction to the laser.”

“That’s
why they were stinging,” I whispered to myself. And I just
realized that their pain was obsolete, as was the ache from the
bruise on my head, where I’m sure he cracked that gun to knock
me out. Damn drugs. They may have erased the pain, but I’d
rather feel it all if it meant I was left aware of my circumstances.

“I still haven’t
decided what I’m going to do with you yet, but whether I keep
you or sell you, this skin has to go.” All I heard of that was
keep you or sell you
.
Haven’t decided yet
…

Oh, God
. I was
sitting here having a casual conversation with a guy that kept sex
slaves. What the hell was wrong with me? He knew how to use his face
to his advantage, smiling and shifting his eyes in an alluring manner
that made you forget you were sitting next to a guy that’d cut
you up the moment he got bored. This asshat shot my boyfriend! And I
was just sitting here talking to him like nothing happened!

I ripped my arm from
his grasp, snapping, “And her? You’re seriously telling
me you don’t consider what you do to her as rape?”

I knew I was walking a
dangerous line, but I couldn’t let him trick me into feeling
safe. Even if I needed him angry, I needed to be reminded that he was
dangerous, not to be trusted.
He fucking shot Nick! He’d
hurt you in a second, too.

I got my wish as anger
flashed across his face. “What makes you think she’s lost
her free will?”

“She’s
dead inside. Broken. You said you never raped me because I was
lifeless. How is that freaking zombie girl over there any different?
She’s lifeless, too.”

I didn’t like
the way he stared at me, and at the same time, I did. Voicing my
opinion was dangerous, but what I said unnerved him, struck a chord
that made him pull back and think. “What?” I asked
sarcastically. “Your zombie playmates have never called you out
on that before?
They
may be too brain dead to stand up to your
bullshit, but
I’m
not.” My breaths quickened. It
was still a toss-up if that little remark would be regarded as brave
or dumb as shit.

“Natalie…or
Megan, or Claire, or whatever the hell you go by these days.”
There was something completely sinister about the way he was eyeing
me, and it scared the shit out of me so much I began to inch away
slowly, but his face seemed to follow and keep the distance between
us the same. Sucking and wetting his lips first, he added, “I’m
really going to enjoy fucking you.”

I kept a calm face but
I was screaming inside, every part of my body launching into full
panic mode, my legs squeezing together tightly. “Seeing as how
you don’t rape,” I fearfully rebutted, “I don’t
see how you’ll get the chance.” Damn my voice for
shaking.

“Sure, I will.
Because in just three days, you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”

It was like I was
slapped. His words caused my head to jerk and my eyes to bulge like
the atmosphere had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. “You’re
as delusional as Veronica is lifeless.”

“You’ll
see,” he sang with twisted amusement, sliding his hand up my
leg, squeezing just above the knee. My leg jerked and I smacked his
hand away. His hand recovered and slapped my face so fast I didn’t
have a chance in hell to close my eyes or turn away in time. I
gasped, my hands going to protect my face, my skin already burning
like a mother. “That’s your warning,” I heard him
say firmly. “I’ve let you run your mouth a few times, but
don’t think for one second you can hit me in any way. I
will
knock you unconscious for it next time.”

I could feel him
moving away, but I was frozen with fear, my head pointing in the
opposite direction, my jaw still quivering with aftershocks. He
instructed Veronica to turn in, and what little light we had from her
lamp went away, suffocating the room with darkness once more. It took
awhile for me to come out of dormancy, still caressing my now swollen
cheek. For the first time since he found me, I was stunned into
silence, deathly afraid to utter even the slightest of peeps.

But that fear couldn’t
stop the tears. As I spread out on the carpet, I tried for hours to
imagine that Nick was lying behind me in the dark, that there was no
question about whether or not he survived that night, because he was
with me, right here, right now.

If only I could fool
my mind as well as those brainwashers had.

That was the longest
night of my life. My neck, shoulders and back were killing me from
leaning against the wall. I had refused to make myself vulnerable by
sleeping, banging my head each time my eyes tried to close. I didn’t
want to sleep, the memories of him cutting me while I was drugged and
unable to fight still fresh on my mind. It was like that nightmare
people had – asleep but still awake on the operating table,
feeling each sear as the surgeon cuts into them. Only this was worse,
because it really happened to me, over and over again.

My mind wouldn’t
shut off, the darkness the perfect backdrop for all the thoughts and
memories it relentlessly flipped through, trying to find the one that
would hurt me the most, punishing me for not heeding its warning, for
getting myself taken once more. For losing the person most precious
to me now.

Nick
. It killed
me that I didn’t know his fate. But I believed he survived. I
had to. How long did he lay there on the cold floor before someone
found him? How long before his mother was contacted?

Oh, my God.

Sam.

Nick was all she had
left. And for days now, while I slept, she may have been mourning the
loss of her family, her baby boy. I cried my eyes out for her, but
the tears weren’t even comparable to the number I shed for my
mom and dad and Thea. I was just getting to know them again, hardly
scratching the surface. And they had just gotten me back, given just
a tease of my presence before I was cruelly ripped from their grasp
once more.

How did a person
survive that horror twice? I could see my mother right now, sitting
on my bed, holding one of my picture frames to her chest, worrying
and wondering where I was, if it was
them
that came back for
me, or if it was a whole new threat this time. My father was probably
drinking downstairs, thinking that if he had only forced me home and
kept me grounded, I may not have been taken a second time. But if
that lunatic was willing to shoot Nick like it was nothing, he
wouldn’t have hesitated to grab me no matter where I was or who
I was with. More than one of my loved ones could be dead right now.
And Thea, who already suffered so long thinking it was her fault that
I was taken. She saw me less than twenty-four hours before it
happened again. Always the last one to see me…

How I wished I’d
spent more time watching those family videos my dad had given me.
Because now I feared those images would begin to wilt away, along
with my ability to keep their faces from blurring and distorting with
time in my mind.

I banged my head until
the pain was enough to halt my freaking memory bank from finding new
slides for the damn projector. I wished I had never been found. If I
could go back in time and make sure I never stopped at Breenie’s
Diner in Myrtle Creek, I would. Then Paul would’ve never seen
that flyer in Seattle, Thea never would’ve come to check me
out, Nick would’ve never made me fall in love with him all over
again, and my parents would’ve continued going on with life
without me, albeit a little sad. Then the police would’ve never
put my name on that accusation,
he
never would have found me,
I’d still be free and Nick would most definitely be alive. And
as much as I loved my family, as much as I needed Nick, I’d
give it all up in a heartbeat to just go back in time and alter my
course. I’d sacrifice everything that made me feel whole again,
just to spare them the pain they were going through right this very
moment.

I don’t know
where my body found the fluid, but long after my chest stopped
heaving and my eyes became raw and irritated, the tears had dripped
for hours. By the time he came back in the morning hours, the tears
had finally dried out and I was exhausted, emotionally as numb as the
burns that were trying to heal across my skin.

“That’s
not happiness to see me.”

“You think?”
I retorted. I cringed, realizing he might just smack me for that.
Luckily, he didn’t.

With an amused smirk,
he pushed the large chair and ottoman closer and made himself
comfortable. His gaze was locked in my direction, but I refused to
acknowledge the hairs standing on edge. Veronica stirred, and after
fully waking up, made her way to stand beside him. What happened next
shocked me. She willingly began to comb her fingers through his hair,
and in return, he lightly brushed her arm. Soon after, she silently
climbed onto his extended legs, her arm moving in a motion between
their legs that finally got his attention to focus on her and not me.