Page 14 of Bathed in Blood

A very long nap.

Oh, and after I wring my dick for being an insufferable twat all night long.

7

Gilded

Lana

Lewis laughs like a madman as he repositions his twin sized mattress on the stairway. I give my obligatory big sisterdon’t Lewis.Mom is going to be pissed.

Which he promptly ignores.

His squeal of delight warms my chest, snuffing out any lingering annoyance at the mess I know I’ll mostly be cleaning up this evening. His long shaggy hair blows past him as he bombs down the stairs, the tip of the mattress hitting the lip of a step a little too soon. Our twin laughter cuts off in unison as he flips forward, the glass screen door making a death shudder as his head collides with it. I barely register the sound of his phone hitting the floor as I dart down them. My heart ratcheting in my chest. “Lewis!”

My hands flutter all around him like panicked little moths as he groans, canting his head backwards. “Please tell me you got that on the video.”

My eyes widen, dumbstruck as blood pools in his hairline. “Oh, my god you’re bleeding. Mom is going to kill us. Are you okay? Don’t- don’t move.”

He rolls his eyes, which makes him groan again as he rights himself shoving the mattress off him where it landed. Lewis' hands clap on either side of my cheeks with a gentle smack, “Lana. Did. You. Get. That. on. Camera?”

I frown, glancing up at the phone on the landing. “Probably not?”

“Dammit, you had one job!”

My frown turns to him. “One, don’t curse. Two, you can’t afford any more brain damage, so forgive me for not being concerned about the video!”

I almost laugh as he raises his knees, burying his head between his legs, stringing along about how his friends are going to think he’s full of shit.

I punch his arm gently, letting myself laugh now that I know he’s not too badly hurt, but still my heart is racing. My hands shaky.

When his warm eyes turn towards me, my stomach free falls. His face is older, haggard, a deep pock mark on his chin. Vomit surges up my throat at the terror in his eyes, the shame. Suddenly we aren’t in the sunny hallway of our childhood home. The muggy night air wraps round me. The smell of burning oil, sweat and blood.

The Sullivan brothers close in, and when their hands touch me this time, I’m not crying silently, reassuring Lewis with a broken voice that I’ll be okay. This time, when they shove me in their expensive car, I scream.

My eyes fly open, only for me to shut them again. So tightly colors begin to kaleidoscope behind my lids. My sheets cling to the sweat sheeting my body as I press myself back into them. Ignoring how gross it feels, the uncomfortable stiffness in mybody. It’s been years since I slept through the night. The only indication of morning is the warmth of the sun I can feel pressing into my sore flesh. Of all the nights I spent with the Sullivan brothers, the first was by far the worst.

It was a first for so many things.

I lost my virginity that night. I don’t even remember who took it. Probably Jax.

They replayed the video of them beating and taunting Lewis at full volume as they took turns with me on the cold basement floor. It smelled so strongly of bleach it made my eyes burn. My chest, knees and back were so bruised they swelled painfully from the force of each of them mounting and flipping. Slapping, beating and choking. Eventually my throat bled from the force of my screams, they didn’t stop. When I finally stopped crying, stopped reacting to anything they were doing, they didn’t stop. My heart raced from the blow they forced up my nose, but I was numb all over. It started the brutal loop I lived in for the first year. Rapidly going from completely shut down to feeling everything all at once.

They broke me that night.

They made me forget about the breeze.

Shuffling in the corner of the room doesn’t alarm me. I rarely wake up alone. I do my best to lie still, maybe… maybe if they think I’m still asleep, I can stay in bed. Preferably without a cock in me. Maybe I can even read a little before I’m forced to follow Anton and Vince around all day. I hold no purpose unless I’m being fucked or performing, so in the down time I simply…existin their space. I’m not expected to clean, cook, fold, or bathe myself. Not allowed anything but my books and pretty lingerie to try on. New shipments come in almost every day. Sometimes they want me to model with new rigging, sometimes I was a guinea pig for something non-lethal until Vince put a stop to that.

Long minutes pass before I relent, deciding it's better to get the day over with than drag it out. When I open my eyes, I’m groggy. The canopy above my bed is gone, as are all the rich tones and wood. What greets me is sleek, modern, and minimalist. The world has suddenly gone from technicolor to black and white, and with it comes painful clarity.

The man moves closer, and I press my legs together tightly, wondering if I release my overfull bladder, he’ll hold off on raping me. When the smell of deep, masculine aftershave hits me, I roll my head towards Christian. All my bravery in the end didn’t do shit to change my circumstances, only the tower I’m kept in.

“Good afternoon, Princess.”

Christian

Her fiery hair is fanned across my gray sheets, the parts underneath her dotted darker from her sweat.

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