Page 16 of The Devil's Secret

There’s a loud bang on the door, and I startle with a gasp.

“Hurry the fuck up!” the man hollers. “If you’re not out in one damn minute, looking as good as you did when I first came in, you’re going to answer to the boss.”

My fingers fumble when I reach for my makeup inside the drawer. I rip off some of the toilet paper and wet it in the sink, wiping off the mascara stains under my eyes, applying a fresh coat before adding some concealer and liner to my lower lashes. I look as good as I can.

He bangs again, louder this time. I open the door just as he’s about to raise his voice. As soon as he sees me, he assesses me for imperfections. “That’ll do.” In his fist is a black hood I’m all too familiar with, along with a black eye mask.

“Put it on.” He holds out his hand and I take the mask, slipping it around my eyes, the world turning pitch black. His hands are on my face now as he slips the hood over me, ensuring I see nothing as he grabs my upper arm and drags me out of the house.

The chill of the evening violently hits my body. I shiver, my nipples beading as the door of his car clicks open and he throws me roughly inside.

The leather’s cold beneath my thighs and it practically turns my body into ice as I tremble, wrapping my arms around myself.

The door bangs to a close, then another, and a few seconds later, the car speeds down the road. Sharp turns and uneven gravel send my body side to side, the black nothingness making the rough drive even scarier. The fear of dying overwhelms me.

I think of my son, wondering where he is, who he’s with. The only thing Agnelo told me was that Robby wouldn’t be kept in a cage as long as I obeyed.

I can’t get much out of my son when we see each other for those short minutes, especially with the men listening. But once, when we hugged, I asked if he’s in a house and he whispered,yes.

I was relieved, as relieved as I could be, but I still don’t know what is being done to him. Who has my son? My heart squeezes in my chest like brick after brick of heaviness sitting over it. I’ll never stop worrying about him. I don’t know how to.

The car stops and my stomach sinks with heavy dread. I push against the tightening in my throat just as a door shuts with a loud thud and footsteps creep closer. The cold air greets me once more, a rough hand pulling me out, and I almost stumble, catching myself.

“Let’s go,” the asshole says, jerking me.

When his feet move, the footfalls crunching over the gravel, mine do too. I fight the shudder rolling up my arms as he leads me to hell, a door creaking until the frigid air is replaced by a warm current and sounds of people talking in hushed conversations drifting from all around once we make it down a flight of stairs.

The man’s hands are on my face again as he pulls off the hood and blindfold. My eyes adjust to the sight before me, the dimmed lighting, the men with women beside them.

As we move further in, I see the children. I turn away with a cry, unable to stomach the sight of their faces, the pain behind their eyes. It’s permanently sewn into my heart. Some of them are as young as my Robby. Tears swell into my eyes when I think about all that they’ve endured in their short lives. The horrors they’ve witnessed. Their poor families.

“You’re entertaining three tonight.” He looks over his shoulder as he says that. “They’re gonna share you and they won’t be as gentle as me.” A vile sneer slithers to his mouth.

My gut churns, panic setting in, the air escaping my lungs in a hurry as I try to get it back. I should be used to this. The violation. The abuse. But every time, it’s as though it’s happening for the first time.

I’m still that girl who ran on the road, away from the men who were about to alter her entire future. Still the girl who was raped by a man who gave her a son, then took him away. Still the girl who screamed for help as multiple men took turns day after day.

I’m her and she’s me. We’re one and the same. And I don’t know who’s worse off. The girl who didn’t know what was about to happen or the woman who now does.

I enter a room where three men sit, their expensive black suits and loafers matching the black upholstered leather sofa. They’re only a little older than I am, maybe in their late thirties.

As soon as they see me, they rise, their sinister smiles like multiple daggers to my chest. I bleed, yet they can’t see the droplets spilling from my flesh, from my very existence.

The man who brought me here shuts the door behind him, and I’m alone now. With them. The men who hold the power.

Each one takes a menacing step closer, a shot glass in the hand of the one in the middle, his eyes as dark as his soul.

“Let’s have some fun, boys,” he tells the others. “I paid for the full package.”

And then, their hands are everywhere.

CHAPTERFIVE

ENZO

I’ve never actually looked forwardto hanging out with a girl before. Normally, they call, or I call. We fuck, then we’re done. I don’t know them, not really. And they sure as hell don’t know me. They know whatever I allow them to know, and it ain’t much.

With Joelle, it’s different. I want to see her, and it isn’t for sex. It’s her. I want to seeher. Even if it’s only at her job. I’ll take whatever I can get.

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