Page 35 of Saved By My Buyers

“Do the right thing, Dahlia,” he growls, stalking away naked. The door shuts hard behind him, and I stare unseeingly after him.

God, he must have come in here already naked. Did he?

I’m not making sense…

Whimpering as I force my arms to move, untying the thick strap ties behind my head, and pulling out the gag. He used a huge sock and another tie he didn’t bother to take with him, I drop my hands at my side. The knife next to me catches my attention, my mind beginning to race.

Gareth is giving me an out, but do I want to take it?

He as much as said Bee would be fine if I did, and at this point I don’t care about my mom anymore. She made her bed when she married Gareth.

She didn’t protect me from a predator, but I tried to protect her.

My lungs burn for air, and I gasp in a breath, realizing I had been holding it. My body seems to only be continuing to live because of the fact that it hurts not to breathe or do the basic things required for survival.

Every muscle in my body screams as I force myself to sit up. Bodily fluids I can’t even begin to think about are leaking from me, and I sob. Gareth took the rest of my innocence, even if my virginity is still intact. I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them otherwise.

Would Bee and Jack?

My legs threaten to collapse on me as I stand, grabbing the knife for good measure. My thoughts are foggy, and I can’t seem to hold on to anything for long. One thing I do know is that I need a shower desperately.

Maybe once I can’t feel the phantom pain left behind from Gareth’s filthy hands and cock, my brain will come back on line.

It feels as if I blink and find myself underneath the steaming hot water, wondering how I got here. The disassociation I so desperately wanted is happening now, when I need to keep a clear head.

Sitting on the ground, the cool tile helps with pushing away the fog. Opening the knife, I vaguely ask myself if I want to end everything.

What kind of life will I have now? I can’t stay here. I don’t know what my face looks like, but Gareth was very clear about his stance. My chest hurts as I pant with fear and uncertainty.

I need to go. Glaring at the blade, I shake my head, closing it back up. I’m not strong enough to fight him, but I’m damn sure not going to give up. Gareth can fuck all the way off. It’s going to kill me in so many more ways to leave, but I need to find some way to tell Bronwyn about her father.

I can feel myself pulling away from her as I stand, already calling her by her proper name in my head. Washing my body and hair helps me to form my thoughts, somehow knowing Gareth won’t come back tonight.

He’s too busy congratulating himself for breaking his little toy.

Yanking the lever to turn off the water, I dry myself with the clean towel so helpfully placed outside of the shower, and step out. I’m not going to miss anything about this house. The heated floors, the maids, all of this luxury is a trap.

I’d much rather sleep on a fucking bench than stay here another moment.

Wrapping the towel around me, I avoid looking at my face or body as I pack a backpack that I brought with me from New England. It’s well loved, not bougie, and is less likely to be taken from me.

Comfortable clothing is packed, along with twelve hundred dollars that I’ve hoarded away from tutoring, when I could get away with it while at Tyler Prep, and a coat. Everything is tightly rolled up in the bag, the money is going into a pouch that I can wear under my clothes.

Getting dressed, I wear light layers, and put on socks and a pair of combat boots. They’re brand new, but all I can do is hope that my jeans hide them well enough. The pouch with my money is well hidden on my body now, and all that’s left is to say goodbye to Bronwyn and Jack.

Hot tears sting my skin, making me realize I can’t go out like this. Rushing to my bathroom, I wonder if I should apply makeup the best I can, wincing as I allow myself to gaze at my face for one full minute, at the mess Gareth made, before I decide against it.

My eye is almost swollen shut, I have a fat lip, and I’m a mess. A light hooded-sweater is all I’ll be able to use to hide my face.

Twelve hundred dollars won’t take me far, and I’ll have to decide if I’m going to leave Detroit or not after I leave here. Packing deodorant as well, I grimace as I lift my bag. It isn’t as heavy as it could be, which is the best I’m going to get.

Picking up a white piece of paper, I fumble through my pens until I find one that has disappearing ink that only appears under a black light. Bronwyn and I found a packet of these and thought they were fun.

There was an entire two weeks that we used it to write each other little notes.

I can only hope she’ll remember it when she realizes I’m not here anymore.

Dear Bee,

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