Page 4 of Reckoning

He sighed, almost sounding relieved.

“Go get yourself cleaned up. You’re disgusting.” He grabbed my chin again, eyes traveling my body, and I became acutely aware that I was still clad only in my underwear. I said a small prayer of thanks that they had decided to stop there when undressing me in the back of the van. Preparing me for slaughter. The shepherd brought to the lamb for sacrifice. “Not that a shower could clean the true filth off you.”

I would have spit on him then, consequences be damned, if he wasn’t holding my face so tightly. Nonetheless, he saw the movement of my lips, and a slow smile dragged across his face. I nearly expected a slap anyway, but he just dropped my face and grabbed my arm instead, pulling me across the room.

“Please, stop!” I didn’t care that I was begging. My wrists were raw from the twine, and his rough hands only added to the bruises.

He stopped suddenly and turned to face me, pulling me against him.

“Stop doesn’t work on me,” he said, and his voice carried real danger. I felt myself cowering in his arms even as he threatened me. “That is one word you will never say to me. Do you understand?”

Cowed into silence, I nodded mutely. His eyes landed on my lips, and then he pushed me away.

“Get in there,” he commanded, stepping aside and pointing at the bathroom. Averting my eyes, I brushed by him and stepped from soft carpet to cold tile. “Door open,” he snapped as I moved to close it behind me. He wanted me to strip in front of him, and it didn’t look like I had much choice. Refusing to turn back around, I forced myself to peel off my filthy bra and panties. They were covered with dirt and blood, so much so I doubted they would ever be clean. Seeing nowhere else to put them, I dropped them on the floor. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Meyer was still watching me. His eyes moved endlessly up and down my legs, and I clasped my hands over my butt to try to save what was left of my dignity. He sneered and met my eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, the expression on his face making him look rather petulant. It was amazing how much my perception of him changed once I was out of striking range.

I kept my back to him, hoping he couldn’t see the blush crawling up my neck. Stepping into the shower, I stood to the side while I waited for the water to warm, then eased myself under the flow. Every drop felt like a hammer against my sore skin, and I was glad the water hid my tears. I struggled to raise my arms high enough to wash my hair, and bending over to wash my legs was out of the question. Eventually, I just stood under the water and prayed it would wash away whatever residual filth remained on my skin.

Stepping out into the bathroom, I jumped when I realized Meyer was standing at the sink. I hadn’t heard him come in, so I rushed to cover my nakedness. He looked at me casually, all traces of interest in my naked body gone, and then threw me a towel as he focused on brushing his teeth. I dried my body and spotted a small pile of clothes on the counter next to him and moved to put them on. But bending over to hold my panties so I could step into them would be impossible, especially while trying to hold the towel around my body with one hand. I curved forward as far as I could, stopping with a gasp when a bruised rib protested the movement. My eyes burned.

“What the fuck is bothering you now?” he asked, spitting into the sink and turning to face me. I pressed my fingers into the corners of my eyes, trying to hold back the tears.

“I need help,” I said meekly.

Though my eyes were closed, I felt him move closer.

“Say that again,” he said, his voice soft.

I dropped my hands and stared at the ceiling, blinking furiously.

“I need help,” I repeated. “Please.”

He grabbed my neck and pressed his lips to my cheek, trailing along my skin to my ear. “Get used to this,” he growled. He tugged at the towel, and I let it fall away reluctantly. He traced one finger over my nipple, and though my skin had grown soft in the warm water, it hardened and pebbled beneath his touch. A grin played across his lips. “I own you now. You need my help with everything.” He stepped back and looked at me. There was a long moment where he stared at me, making me want to jump right back into the shower and scour myself again, no matter the pain.

Finally, he seemed to shake himself loose from whatever thoughts were occupying his mind. “Hold up your arms.”

I did as I was told, as much as I could, and he slid a loose-fitting T-shirt over my head. I was grateful once more that he wasn’t forcing me into a bra, then berated myself for feeling grateful for anything. I could see in the mirror that the left side of my face was severely swollen and bruised, and I knew I quite possibly had a fractured bone somewhere in my face. There were bruises on my neck and chest as well as a small bald spot near my temple where a chunk of hair had been ripped out. I knew I could be in a lot worse shape, but not much.

Bending over, Meyer held out a pair of cotton underwear and then gym shorts for me, and I stepped into them shamefully. He bit my thigh as he stood, dragging his hand between my legs. I jumped backward, only to find his hand between my shoulder blades kept me from moving away. He grabbed a brand-new hairbrush from one of the drawers on the vanity and dragged it roughly through my hair, sending fresh tears cascading down my cheeks. When my tangles were pulled out, he threw it onto the marble with a clatter.

“Let’s go,” he said, pushing me through the door before I could formulate a response. He led me down a hallway and a flight of stairs before coming to a brightly lit sunroom with a small table. It was set with a breakfast spread I might expect to find at a high-end hotel—piles of fruit and stacks of pancakes with a brimming pot of coffee and three types of creamer. His hand never left my back as he guided me to a chair, then handed me the ice pack sitting next to the plate.

I was so shocked by the gesture that I couldn’t even reach out to take it. Exasperated, Meyer grabbed my hand and put the ice on it.

“Thank you,” I said so quietly I barely heard myself. He grunted and sat across from me as I pressed the blessedly cold ice against my face. I didn’t know how much good it would do, but I was grateful to have it nonetheless. My skin hissed at the sensation and then settled into numbness.

We ate breakfast in silence, me taking small bites and chewing gingerly while Meyer scrolled through his phone.

“Your parents are posting on social media,” he said casually, taking a large gulp of black coffee. “Your mom is hysterical. Serves her right.”

I slammed my fork down with a clatter. Meyer looked up slowly, and I saw fury building in his eyes.

“You’ve destroyed my body already. There’s no need to be cruel.” I spat out the words before I could think better of challenging him.

Meyer leaned across the table toward me, mouth in a harsh grin, but he wasn’t the one who spoke next.

“We haven’t come anywhere close to destroying your body, little girl.”

I was on the ground the moment I heard his voice. The chair clattered to the floor as I crab-walked backward away from the man who had just walked into the room.

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