Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
My cell is concrete. The solid, thick kind that there’s no getting out of unless released. So I wait. Adrian and Valentina won’t let me rot in here. For all the things I’ve done, I trust them both with my life.
There’s blood crusting my face, but I don’t waste the very little water they’ve given me by washing it off. My knuckles are bruised from fighting the bastards, but there’s not much I could do while being held down with someone’s knee in my back as they batter me black and blue for answers.
My mouth twists into a smile. Answers there are no way in hell they’ll be able to drag out of me. That’s something they don’t understand. I scrub at the dried blood, now itchy, with the heel of my hand. Pretty much the only part of my body not bruised.
When I took their place on the chopping block, they promised mercy, and I suppose not putting a bullet in my head immediately after my confession is their form of leniency. These people don’t know the meaning of mercy.
And when I get out of this cell, I won’t be the one to teach it to them.
It’s been a week by my estimation, hazy though it is. The only time I’m actually alert is during the short window in which they drag me out of the cell, hose me down, feed me a Viagra, and strap me to the councilwoman’s bed. She’s even more disgusting than I gave her credit for. Worse, she assumes everyone wants her. So even though I’m drugged and tied down, she thinks it’s a seduction and not a rape.
When I get out of here, I’m going to make her pay for this and for what she orchestrated against Andrea. Her attack could only have been sanctioned by Henrietta, as she asked me to call her while she rode my dick without my fucking permission.
I close my eyes and squeeze them shut so at least I can tell myself the darkness is my choice. This is how I get through anything. Grab some part of it and make it mine. I’ll get out of here and do the same.
Rose pops into my head, as she always does, and I feel myself calming, breathing deeper. It’s a trick I learned when I first took her to my apartment outside the penthouse. If I stay calm, she stays calm. If she stays calm, then things don’t get broken, and I don’t have to cradle a crying, screaming girl for way longer than I should.
Adrian warned me not to touch her, and I’ve mostly kept that promise. Any times I put my hands on her were for medical care or comfort. Nothing more. Even if I’ve thought about it.
There’s a sound in the hall. That’s the problem with concrete, it echoes loudly, and I’ve got excellent hearing. It’s not the click of high heels, thank fuck, to alert me that she’s asked for me again, nor is it the heavy drum base of the guard who's been pacing back and forth in front of my cell for the past two hours.
I think it’s night. At least it feels that way by the chill in the air. I’m wearing nothing but the clean boxer briefs they gave me to wear this morning after Henrietta was through using me. Time is harder to discern. The guards change shifts every eight hours, and four are regularly on rotation outside my cell if their gait is anything to go by. I call one fatty with his heavy clomp clomp clomping step, one gimpy because he has a sort of drag to his step with every turn. One is skippy since he seems to run back and forth in the hallway, moving quickly, like he is trying to get a workout in during every guard shift. The last one is the meanest, and I just call him motherfucker. His steps are normal, at least for this lot, but his fists are rougher than the others, and he’s not afraid to hit me.
My guess…Henrietta had been sleeping with him before she decided to get herself an upgrade.
I focus on the steps again, but there are several now. One I’d recognize anywhere. I’ve been listening to them pace the halls of the penthouse for years.
I tuck my legs up to hide my nudity and brace my arms across my knees so he can’t see the bruises there.
The door is thrown open, but it’s not Adrian who walks in, it’s Valentina. Ah. She’s light, tiny, I usually can’t hear her walking around unless she’s angry.
She takes a step into the cell with Adrian right on her ass. The guard closes the door behind them.
“Careful,” I warn. “Now that they got you here, they might not let you out again.”