Page 34 of Marked

My sister cries beside me. Soft sobs, so not to draw the attention of the man sitting at the door.

He’s in charge of watching us. To be sure we don’t do anything other than eat, like we’ve been told.

We each have a bowl of oatmeal in our laps. I hate oatmeal, but it’s the first bit of food they’ve given us since we woke up in this pit of hell. So, for the moment, it’s my favorite dish.

“Eat,” Mom chides my sister, but she’s shaking her head. “You have to eat. You need strength, sweetie.”

Her head is down and her hair blankets her face, so I can’t see the bruising on her cheek. When they brought her back, she had more marks on her than before. Her eye is swollen now.

More blood dries on her legs. On the inside of her legs.

Rage builds in me, but I have to control it. I have to keep docile or they’ll hurt her or Mom again. I have to stay calm, so they keep their attention on me. If I draw them to me, I can keep them both safe from morehurt.

“You got two minutes,” the guy at the door yells.

“Hey, Artie!” A voice calls from across the expansive space. It’s too dark to see anything clearly, but I can make out a form. “You got a phone call. I’ll watch them.”

“Shithead, don’t use my fucking name!” Artie’s chair hits the floor when he jumps up from it.

“Whatever, they won’t tell anyone. Will you girls?” The sneer in his voice makes my stomach turn. “You got a call. In the office.”

“They got one more minute to eat, then take that shit from them.”

“How long you gonna play with them, anyway?”

“As long as fun can be had.” Artie laughs. “Be right back.”

A door opens and shuts. My sister jumps.

“Not gonna eat?” The man appears in front of me, sticking his finger into my oatmeal.

I raise my eyes up to him. He’s not horrible to look at—clean-shaven, and his hair is swept back. He’s wearing a business shirt and slacks.

“I hear you’re the mouthy one. That right?” He grabs my chin, shoving his thumb into my mouth. “Feels nice and warm in there.” He grins. “Maybe you’d be a better girl if you had something else to eat.” He lets me go and rubs his crotch.

My sister whimpers.

“Leave her alone,” Mom demands.

He looks over his shoulder at her.

“Is Mom jealous?” He laughs, taking my bowl of oatmeal and tossing it away from me. It clanks and splatters onto the floor. My stomach twists. I should have shoveled more of it in before he got here.

He twists my arm behind me and gets my wrists bound before moving over to Mom. He shoves her bowl out of her lap, and another rag into her mouth. She’s completely gagged before he cuffs her hands, too.

When he looks at my sister, he chuckles.

“Fought too much, that one. But I think she learned her lesson,” he says, moving back to me.

“Please. Just leave us alone,” I say through gritted teeth.

Mom yells behind her gag, which only makes him laugh.

“I think she really is jealous. It would be cruel not to let her watch, right?” He winks at me, then shoves my shoulders. I fall backward, hitting the concrete floor hard.

I cry out from the pain.

He’s over me again, straddling me. My wrists hurt from landing on them.

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