Page 75 of Judge's Mercy

“Drop the arms. Your tits are your best asset,” he says from behind the camera. Meanwhile, the guard does fuck-all except stand there looking like he’s ready to make me follow any commands.

Dropping my arms, I suddenly find it hard to hold back tears. How can he do this? Seriously, how can he look at me and not see a person with family and friends, a brain that has valuable ideas, and a personality that’s unique to me? What happened to him to make him this way?

“Spread your legs a little. Give them a tease.” A devious smile creeps across his lips as I step one leg out. “That’s good. It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”

He doesn’t know how close to the truth he is, but at least at the ranch, I was making money hand over fist for what I showed my clients. Even more than that, I was giving them a human connection that a lot of them didn’t receive in their everyday lives. My clients cherished me, and they showed me respect, which is so much different than what’s happening now.

“What’s this for?” I ask, not expecting an answer, but he gives me one I wish I didn’t hear.

“I decided to sell you. Your youthful appearance and size make you valuable.”

“What do you mean?” My throat constricts, and one single tear falls down my cheek before I button the emotion back up. I can cry when this is over, but it won’t help anything now.

“I need to get rid of you since I don’t believe your story. The last thing I need is for the authorities to come knocking. So, I weighed my options.” He passes the camera to the guard as he lifts and lowers his hands in opposite directions. “I could kill you, which would ultimately solve my problem but obviously not bring me any benefit.”

“Or I can auction you off to some rich bastard who will eventually kill you. That choice will win each time because it solves my problem and pads my pockets.”

“Why can’t you keep me here?” I ask, knowing there’s a chance the club will find me. Judge wouldn’t think twice about giving up my secrets if he knew it would save my life, and I’m glad for it. I know he struggles with balancing his loyalties between the club and me. Soon, that won’t be an issue, though. If I live, he might never trust me again, and if I die. . . well, that’s self-explanatory.

“I don’t believe that no one knows where you are. It’s only a matter of time before people start looking, and I can’t have you here when they do.”

“I swear to God, no one knows. I’m a loner with mental health issues, which means I’ve chased away everyone who loves me. Now it’s just my cat and me, and he’ll never tell.” I hold my hands up in prayer. “Please. I can make you more money alive and working here than I can off one sale.”

He seems to ponder it, but in the end, he shakes his head, an urgency taking over his tone. “No. I think you’re lying and trying to stall, which probably means I have less time than I thought. I need you out of here ASAP. Come on. I’ll put you downstairs until it’s time.”

Just the thought of being locked up with those other girls sends chills up my spine. I feel horrible for not wanting to be near them, but it’s like looking at a future I don’t want. I’ll come back for them if I ever find a way out, but I can’t be down there.

“No, don’t make me go down there. I can wait right here,” I say as the guard grips my upper arm—thankfully, the one without a bullet wound—and pulls me toward the door.

“This room is reserved for the night.” He shrugs. “What can I say? The whole teenage stepdaughter fantasy is an oldie but a goodie.”

“You’re a sick fucking freak!” I shout, helplessness turning my sadness into rage. White hot fury numbs my pain as I lash out. I drop my weight, and the guard scrambles to get a better grip, but not before I can send an elbow right into his junk. He doubles over, losing his hold on me completely as I attack David. There’s no method to my madness, and I punch, kick, and scratch.

David shouts at the guard to get control of me, but he can’t stand upright yet. He underestimates how much I want to tear him limb from limb, but having a fierce attitude only gets you so far when you’re small, so all it takes him is one shove to send me flying through the air. I land on my ass. I’m not done, though. I jump to my feet and charge; this time, however, the guard stops me and pins my hands behind my back. I get a sick satisfaction to see claw marks running down David’s face.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!” The force with which the words leave my mouth has blood rushing to my face, the veins in my neck pulsating, and spittle flying from my mouth. I’m so focused on delivering my message that I don’t notice the goon uncap a syringe. A sharp prick stings my neck, and I swat whatever it is away, but I’m too late. My limbs go weak, and my vision clouds. A warm rush of euphoria takes over my mind. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. All my cares, all my worries, seem to float away on a cloud. Or maybe it’s me who’s floating. Either way, I don’t care.

“Come on,” the guard spits out, capping the needle and tucking it back in his pocket.

“Where to?” I ask, my eyes growing more and more heavy as the seconds pass.

“Down the fucking stairs. Shit, why do these bitches get so stupid when they’re high?”

“I know you are, but what am I?” I lean into the big man. Someone must’ve put weights on my feet because those things aren’t moving.

“I deserve a raise.” Though he’s standing next to me, his words filter into my head as a faraway echo, which doesn’t make sense. He lifts my arm, and even though it’s my injured one, I don’t feel pain. Then something pushes into my middle, and I’m tipped upside down. Or is it the world that’s upside down? I can’t be sure.

Nothing makes sense, so I stop trying to think and just feel. With each step the guard takes, my body moves in a wave that reminds me of the ocean. I conjure up memories from when I was twelve and my parents took Tinleigh and me to California. We went to Disneyland, and I saw the ocean for the first time.

I giggle, remembering Dad with his straw sun hat. Tinleigh and I had brand-new matching bathing suits. Not bikinis like all the other girls had because it’s sinful to show your body. We developed early, so before we even hit teen years, we’d started our periods and had breasts.

When Dad noticed that boys and men were paying us attention, he scolded us and made us put back on our shorts and T-shirts. Boys and men can’t keep their thoughts pure when we’re flaunting our bodies in front of them, now, can they? It’s more sinful for us to tempt them than it is for them to have the impure thoughts. After all, they wouldn’t lust after us if we dressed modestly.

Back then, Tinleigh and I were so in tune, we could have a whole conversation just by looking into each other’s eyes, and I knew exactly what she was thinking as we drove home, holding hands and each other’s gazes.

“I just wanted to build a sand castle,” she thought.

“Me too.”

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