"At anytime you can ask me to stop. Stuart will be punished then."
I bite my lip and wait for it.
He's by my face again. I feel his fingers on my chin. He slides something into my mouth. I spit it out.
"Unless you want to bite your tongue I suggest you keep that in." I shake my head but he forces it in again, "I will tie it on."
I don’t spit it out. I moan and cry, shaking my head. The terror is everywhere. The pain is going to be bad. I know it will. I've been punished before.
I hear the wind rushing past the paddle before I feel the first strike. I scream and bite down on the wooden piece in between my teeth. The shocking pain is brutal and stings long after the paddle is gone.
I hear the wind again and scream before he makes contact. The searing pain rocks me.
Tears shoot from my eyes. It's bitter sweet. My eyes stop hurting but the rest of my body tenses. My legs are on fire. He's paddling the bottoms of my feet. He's going to cripple me. I'll never run away again.
Chapter Ten
My feet tingle.
I don’t have any choice but to lie on my back on the hard concrete and keep them in the air. Any contact sends me over the edge, but it's bittersweet somehow.
In the dark I can hear my heart beating, my shaky inhale flowing from me, and a dripping noise that at first drove me insane. Now I hear a beat to it. It's musical and delightful to have company. I am less alone with the water.
The door opens and the tray scrapes along the floor. I don’t look. As long as I don’t hear the slapping of the shoes against the floor I'll be okay.
What does it matter anyway? I saw the daylight, I sat at a fire, I've eaten and drank and had a bath. I laugh and realize it's almost like being at the spa.
The room takes my laugh and gives it back in an echo. It feels like there is another person there. I stop laughing when I realize there is. There always was. She has never left me yet.
My laugh fades but the room still feels more alive for having been filled with it.
"Em." I hear a whisper. I ignore it at first. It's no big deal. The dark has whispered my name before.
"Em. Did they hurt you?"
I frown and look around the room. I feel vulnerable on my back now. I sit up and wince when my feet touch the floor.
"Em. Over here." The whispered voice is coming from the corner across from me. It's so dark I can barely find direction.
"It's me dude. Stu." His voice is less of a whisper. I roll onto my knees and crawl across the room in the dark, with my feet dragging behind me.
"Where are you?" I put a hand out and feel for him.
His hand swipes across my knee in the darkness. It feels funny. I crawl back toward him. His hand is sticking out through a hole in the wall near the floor. Like a mouse hole.
The touch of him isn’t disgusting. I don’t need the sanitizer. I need the warmth of him. I lie on my belly by the hole, gripping him for dear life.
"Where's your phone Em?" He whispers.
I shake my head, "I put it down in a parking lot. Are you okay? Are you badly hurt?"
He squeezes harder, "They said they want your phone. They need to reach him."
I shake my head, "That doesn’t make any sense. The man with the faux hawk-his name is Eli. Before he caught me, I texted for help. I think my text went to Eli, like the guy holding us hostage is your boss. I sent it and then heard it deliver at the same moment to his phone when he was chasing me. I think your boss is Eli." I'm not sure I'm making sense. I'm also not sure Stuart is really there. I've had this before. Daydreams in the dark.
He sighs, "Well, frig. I don’t know then. Maybe he is the dude. Maybe faux hawk is Uncle Daddy Weirdo. Eli seems like a weak name though. I always imagined he was cooler than a douche in sunglasses, in the dark." His voice is weak, but he forces a chuckle.
"I'm sorry."
He chuckles and coughs, "Em. What did you do that could possibly have made this happen?"
My stomach twists. I shake my head. The tears block my throat up again. Emalyn's name pops up in my mind. I don’t know what it means. "I'm sorry you're hurt."
He laughs again, "I fight for a living. This ain't no thing. Trust me I got this. I can take pain like it's nobody's business." His twang is thick. I close my eyes and grip to his warmth for dear life.
We are silent and have been gripping to each other for a long time, when the door to his room opens.
In the light the open door makes in the mouse hole, I see in his room for the first time. Through the small hole, I see two men walk in and grab his feet. They pull hard. I grip to him but his hand slips from mine in a jerk.
"I'll take it. I'll take the punishment. Don’t hurt him." I cry out. Stuart's face is beaten and swollen. He shakes his head, "Take me." His voice breaks.
I slap the concrete, "Take me. Please, I'll do anything." Stuart looks at me with severity, "Shut up, Em. I got this." He winks. I shake my head, "I did this."
He frowns and looks back at the men standing over him, "Ignore her." They drop his feet and walk out. He jumps up and rushes at the door. His screams fill the cell but I can barely hear him.
The blood pounding in my head, from my racing heart, is blocking out the sounds, or dulling them at least. I start to sob silently when the door to my cell is opened. The men come in.
Stuart reaches through and grabs for my hand. "EM! DON'T DO THIS!" His pleas are desperate.
It's the first time I've cried in fear since I was a small child. The tears blind me. They rip from my eyes so hard and fast that they make it impossible to see anything but the blurry light.
Hands grab at me. They carry me, struggling, out into the white light. Their hands grip and tug at me. I kick and fight but it's useless. I'm brought to a small room. It's not nice like the other one was. It looks industrial, like a bathroom or a kitchen but without anywhere to cook. There is a huge sink and table. I stand there frozen. My feet burn but they've started to go numb. The pain of standing is too intense.
I'm shivering and freezing. I'm wearing the robe. It's not white anymore. It's dirty and damaged, like me.
The room is silent.
The cold floor feels shocking against my hot feet.
The lock turns in the door. I can't move. I can't step. My feet burn.
Eli walks in. He looks the same. A silver dress shirt and black dress pants. His shoes are matte black leather with very square tips. He crosses his thick arms and smiles at me. His cocky shitty face is the one in my nightmares. It will be there for the rest of my life.
He leans against the closed door, watching me. He is huge. I feel like a child compared to him in the small room.
He runs his eyes over me, "I hear you chose to be punished, saving Stuart again?"
I swallow and watch his cold blue eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
He shrugs, "I like to." He pushes off the wall and walks toward me. "Don’t look so horrified. Everyone enjoys the feeling of making another person feel something. Everyone."
I shake my head in jerks as he circles me.
He leans in to my neck, "Even you. You like the fact that I find you attractive. You like having that power over me."
"You're insane." I whisper.
He laughs and leans in closer, his breath hits my neck, making shivers everywhere else. "I think you like that about me." He runs his hand down the front of my robe, tugging at it. I whimper and grab at the cloth, gripping it together. He stands back, "I have several choices for you today."
He walks over to the large industrial sink and turns the tap on.
"We can do a little dunking in this sink."
I shudder. I can't imagine the horrors that lie in the sink.
He turns and smirks, "I can paddle your feet again. I am really hoping that’s the choice you make." I cringe, but my brain is crying about the sink.
He talks louder over the rushing water, "I can go get Stuart and put you back in that comfy little cell." I shake my head on that one.
"No to Stuart then? Okay. And last offer, you can be nice to me." He licks his plump lips and lets a slight grin lift one side of his mouth, "Really nice." His cold blue eyes land on my chest. I'm hyperventilating. The sound of the sink is fogging up my brain.
I lift my hand and point at the sink.
He looks surprised, "The sink? Really. More appealing to put your face in my cook's dish sink than to let me make love to you."
I close my eyes. The shows I've seen on bacteria and dish sinks are playing a highlight reel in my mind. I nearly, very nearly, ask him to make love to me. But the idea of his body pinning mine to the bed makes me gag. He starts to roll up his sleeves. I see hints of tattoos sticking out the bottoms of the rolled sleeves.
"Remove the robe." He sounds disappointed.
"No. Please no."
He instantly walks to the door and taps and shouts, "Bring her back and bring me Stuart!"
I spin, "NO!"
He turns back and watches me. With trembling fingers and sobbing tears streaming my burning cheeks, I pull the robe away. It drops to the floor. He licks his lips. I shudder again.
He walks to the sink and holds a hand out. I slouch and shuffle on my burning feet to where he stands. He smells so clean. His body is warm.
He grabs the back of my neck and shoves me forward. His fingers bite into my neck, pulling at the hairs. I see things being stirred up in the water. He turns the tap off. Looking in I can see stains and old residue from whatever else has been in the sink. His hand tightens.
"Wait." I say. I don’t know why. I have no intention of letting him do anything else to me.
"Yes?" His voice is hopeful.
My lip trembles. The filth in the sink is going to kill me. At the least I will be horribly ill. I shake my head, "I'll do whatever you want."
"Do you want me to make love to you?" He asks softly.
I shake my head but answer with my lips, "Yes."
