Chapter 7
Aubrey
I’d traded them all and didn’t have much left to give. I sat in the corner of my prison. The rough brick scratching at my back as I rocked.
The nausea—quite possibly a figment of my imagination, just like everything else—came and went. My stack of empty water bottles sat next to me. The only progress I had made.
Sometimes, I threw them across the room, bashed them against the walls, and then collected them again, keeping them close like a broken security blanket.
Sometimes, I counted them, for lack of anything better to do. They were my only way of processing the passing of time. Six bottles... One for every injection.
The repeated separation of my mind from my body. A different kind of jail. A different kind of torture chamber. At least then, I didn’t feel the pain, the hunger, or the cold.
Colt had begun shaping me into his own twisted masterpiece, and now Devlin was sealing the work. Turning me into something I’d never recognize again.
My fog was receding, and that meant I felt nothing but the pain and hunger. While the horrible reek that had developed in the room—and on my skin—burned my nose.
I couldn’t take it anymore, but I didn’t know any escape.
Colt. I thought.
He’ll come.
He’ll find me.
It was my only hope—an unreliable car thief.
When?
How long had it been?
How long had he left me to fester here?
Soon. It’d have to be soon.
The door creaked open, but it was only Tank again.
Time to add another bottle to the collection. Another track mark to my arm. But he held something else in his hand. A brown paper bag along with the bottle of water. Without saying anything, he sat them in front of me, then backed away to stand by the door.
I carefully opened the bag. Food. Holy fuck. Glorious food. I pulled out the sandwich—not even caring what was on it—and bit off the corner. The bread was soft, filled with peanut butter and jelly.
Every flavor brought my tongue back to life for an instant. I took a swig of water to wash down the sticky peanut butter and took another bite. I wanted to scarf the whole thing down, but I took my time, savoring each morsel.
Would this be my last?
Even through the haze, I knew there had to be a catch. I glanced up at Tank, his expression was stoic and unreadable as ever.
There was still more inside the bag—an oatmeal raisin cookie. They had to be up to something.
Probably poison, I considered, then bit off a chunk anyway.
By the time I finished it off, my stomach rumbled and gurgled.
Tank signaled to someone outside of the door who handed him a bucket and a big grey towel. He threw the towel over his shoulder, then came toward me.
This wasn’t our routine...
My heart pounded, and I gasped for air, but he just sat the bucket down in front of me and began sponging my skin with warm water.
This is a trick, my mind screamed. Maybe a hallucination. Certainly not right. But damn, it felt good. Slowly, he made his way over every inch of my body, washing and drying me, section by section until the only place left waited under my panties, and I silently begged him not to go there. He tossed the sponge back into the bucket, then took my arm to pull me to my feet. I leaned away, but he held me upright.
My mind raced but couldn’t manage to capture a single coherent thought as he led me out of my small prison.
But I knew it couldn’t be good.
I heard voices and tried to pull away. To pull back. I wanted to go back to my cell. Back to where I knew what to expect.
I had no clothes. No defenses.
He yanked me forward, and I held my arm over my bare chest shielding myself from Devlin and the other man who I didn’t recognize. They stood over a black seat of some sort. A bench that looked like it was used to lift weights. The counter next to them was dotted with bottles, rubber gloves, and what looked like medical equipment.
Tank dragged me toward the bench.
“Where do you want to start?” Devlin asked the other man.
I shook my head, but Devlin grabbed me by the back of the neck, and I froze.
The new man was covered in tattoos from the top of his neck down to his fingertips—every inch of skin I could see except his face. “Your choice,” he answered without looking at Devlin.
Devlin shoved me forward so I straddled the bench and my chest pressed against the back.
“Please,” I begged.
Devlin held me there and handed me a bottle of orange juice. I was so confused, I didn’t want to open it. I just stared at it, waiting for something to make sense.
Then, Tank, from behind me, snatched it and opened it, handing it back without the lid. “Drink.”
I was interminably screwed either way, so I at least bought a couple of minutes by sipping the tangy liquid as slowly as possible.
The new man snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, and I jumped. “Don’t move,” he said. “You do not want to move.”
Tattooed man’s expression was different from those I’d come to know during my captivity. His face was hard, stern, but his eyes were softer, almost sad. Devlin’s iron grip stayed on the back of my neck while the tattooed man pressed something to my back. His fingers prodded at the skin over my shoulder blade. Something rattled and popped, then a buzz filled my ears.
My back straightened, but Devlin held me tighter until I felt dizzy. Tank knelt in front of me and grabbed both of my forearms, pulling me tight against the back of the bench. Then, the buzzing moved closer to my back, and my skin lit on fire.
“Fuck,” I grunted, digging my fingers into Tank’s skin as I tried to find some way to breathe through the pain. I pulled it in, wrapped it up, and added it to my collection of things I refused to feel.
Finally, the buzzing ceased, and I hoped it was over until I felt him preparing my other shoulder blade. My eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t form.
What the hell are they doing to me? I tried to see the motions in my head, to transcribe the image I felt him creating, but the burn radiated out and spread until I couldn’t make any sense of it.
Make it stop. Make it stop. Anything to make it stop.
My head spun, the light-headedness overcoming my senses until I felt like I was flying out of reach of the pain. With a smack to my cheek, Devlin pulled me out of my relative happy place, while Tank twisted my right arm and pressed it to another table.
No. No. My mind screamed on repeat. “Please, no more.”
The tattooed man gave me a sympathetic glance, then lowered his eyes to place a stencil to my forearm. A butterfly on a cherry blossom branch. My gaze followed him as he picked up the buzzing device again and began etching the outline of the design into my skin.
Black. Then, pink. Drops of blood. All muddled together and blended with my pain. I dug my toes into the hard floor, my muscles shaking with restraint as I inwardly ran from the pain.
Burning. Consuming. Piercing. I dropped my head against the back of the bench. I had no energy left by the time he finished, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. No heat. No energy. Only pain.
“She needs a break,” tattooed man said.
A break… but that meant there was more to come. Tears finally broke free, but I was numb to them. They blurred my vision and slid down my cheeks—meaningless, powerless. They’d finally succeeded in emptying me of everything I held onto.
“No,” Devlin barked. “Finish.”
The three men moved my limp body around, setting up my left foot as his next victim. They sat me back, and I stared up at the ceiling, the room bucking, dancing, and swaying around me as I fought to stay conscious.
I wasn’t even sure why I fought anymore.
I didn’t care what this design was. Didn’t care anymore. They were taking my body from me.
I screamed and arched my back when the needles pierced the top of my foot. My fingers latched into the edge of the bench while, next to me, Devlin held up a needle. Escape was all I saw.
I held out my arm. They could have my sanity, too. I sure as hell wasn’t using it. The drugs separated me from the pain. From the body they were taking from me.
The darkness came over me like calm ocean waves, coaxing me into security and then ripping me out to sea, before delivering me back to shore to repeat the process.
I faded in and out.
Never asleep enough to escape.
Never awake enough to function.
I squirmed away from the burning at my foot, but a steel-tight grip held me in place.
Parts of their conversation wedged inside my brain. The sounds grinding my nerves.
I just wanted my escape.
My darkness.
Devlin chuckled at something Tank said and patted my cheek. “Now it’s time to finish what we started. Who would’ve imagined that Colt would open up the perfect opportunity for us.”
Devlin had two heads… at least. They circled above me as he spoke. He touched my cheek, tracing his icy touch down my neck to my chest. “Katrin 2.0 and this time, he won’t come back.”
the middle of the floor, on my stomach, back in my room. Except this time, there was light. I lifted my head and rolled enough to see a dim light hanging from the ceiling—at least eight feet up—and the room had been cleaned. The smell… even my bottles were gone. Nothing. I had nothing left. I looked in the other direction and saw a tray by the door. Two new bottles of water, crackers, and an apple. I went for the water and crackers first, nibbling slowly to ease the nausea churning at my stomach.
My naked skin still burned, but I refused to acknowledge the tattoos—thankfully, they were bandaged. Disguised from view, but the burning was impossible to ignore. A permanent mark on my body. Another part of this whole experience that I couldn’t wash away. Except these were visible to everyone.
Colt would’ve taken the pain and turned it into something exquisite. Something that made me forget. Something that made it okay to feel.
I tucked myself into a ball, closed my eyes and imagined his touch. Maybe it was just the drugs, but the images in my mind seemed so real. So tangible.
I felt his fingers traveling up my leg. Teasing me. Reminding me that I’d never know what to expect. Then he impaled me, stretching me, forcing my core to accommodate him and his desires.
The fantasy took on a life of its own as my exhausted and drugged body released over control of my consciousness. Setting part of me free within the erotic dream.
My toes dug into the bed while Colt’s fingers stretched me. He smacked the inside of my thigh. Slapped my breasts until they were red, and my nipples stood erect for him. Then, he slid his slick fingers to my rear hole, pressing past the tight muscle. I felt nothing but pleasure. No pain. No fear. He stretched me, opening me up while his teeth nibbled at the flesh on the inside of my thing. Then, his hands took my hips and flipped me over. My face pressed against the bed, ass in the air. He parted my ass cheeks and pressed his cock to my opening. My anxiety remained locked behind a wall of drugs and desperation. Keeping my lost reality company.
Colt pressed deeper and deeper, my body convulsed around him. Tensing, then releasing enough for him to sink deeper.
As soon as I moaned, I woke from the erotic dream. Mortified, I looked around my tiny room, wondering if anyone was outside listening to me. Then, I held my knees tightly to my chest and cried myself back to sleep.