Page 45 of Lock Me Out

Give me a good show… Be a good girl and suck those cocks, and maybe I won’t have to fuck your face…

No! I’m not in the basement. I’m in my bedroom, my apartment, I’m not back there, the house burned down, James is dead,I’m not there!

“Work her slow,” he tells Nix, but it isn’t Colt, it’s James, it’s James telling them what to do to me. The pressure from Nix’s fingers is unbearable by the time Colt buries himself again against the back of my throat. “That’s right. You take me so well,” he moans.

It might as well be James saying it, James sounding so happy and satisfied.

I can’t make it stop. I need to make it stop, but I can’t. The bile rises again, but this time there’s a scream coming with it, a scream I can’t hold back. I let it loose, even though most of the sound is lost.

“Jesus, fuck!” Colt pulls out all at once, and I suck in a lung full of air before screaming again in the darkness behind the blindfold.

“Leni!” Nix shouts. His hands touch my hips, and I kick out blindly, screaming again.

“Don’t touch me!” I rip the blindfold off, tearing some hair from my scalp when I do, but though I hear the sound, I don’t feel a thing. “Leave me alone! Stop, stop!”

“Leni! We’re stopping!” When Colt reaches for me, I swing my arm, making him jump back. “Fuck! You’re all right!”

All right? I would laugh if I could stop crying, but I can’t. I can’t hold back the sobs and the screams. No words. Just sounds, all the pain, all the rage, all the helplessness, it all pours out of me because I can’t, I can’t do this, I can’t go back to the basement.

“You’re safe!” Nix shouts. “You’re okay, everything’s okay!”

Nothing is okay. “Just don’t touch me,” I warn, crawling up the bed until I’m huddled against the headboard, my body aching, my ass throbbing, my throat raw. “Don’t… touch… me…”

Colt holds his hands up like he’s surrendering. “Nobody is going to touch you. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

It’s too late. It’s way too late for that. “I won’t let you,” I whisper, shaking my head, my arms wrapped around my knees.

“Just tell us what to do.” Nix stands at the foot of the bed. I hate the sight of him now. He wants to hurt me. He likes it.

I think they both do. Because he told them too.

“Just leave me alone!” I wail. My body heaves with sobs while I cover my face with my hands. I can’t look at them. I can’t let them look at me. “Leave me alone, God, please. Don’t talk to me!”

“But… but, Leni?—”

I feel Colt getting closer, so I drop my hands and scramble away before he can reach me. I can’t stand the thought of him touching me. He’s too much like James—they both are. I thought it was all over. “No! No, don’t!”

“Leave her alone,” Nix tells him, pulling him back. “We’ll get dressed, and we’ll leave,” he tells me. “You’re safe. We’ll go.”

“Please,” I beg, escaping under the comforter and pulling it up to my neck.

“You just rest,” Colt murmurs. I don’t say a word. I can’t. All I can do is tuck myself into a ball and cover my face again. I can’t look at him. Not now, not after what he just did.

Not when the past is so fresh in my memory. I can almost smell the basement. I can hear James’s voice. I can feel the couch and the floor, just as fresh as if I came up from there a minute ago.

And the shame. And the pain. I feel them, too. I feel them so hard that when exhaustion gets a hold of me; I go with it, letting myself sink into oblivion because consciousness is just too much to take.

21

NIX

It’slike walking on eggshells until Leni falls asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed. Even now, she doesn’t seem peaceful—frowning, clenching her fists, and tucking them under her chin like she needs to defend herself even in her sleep. Like she’s afraid monsters will haunt her. Monsters with our faces, maybe.

We went too far. That’s clear. We lost control, pushed her too far and she paid the price for it.

Colt seems satisfied to leave her alone now that she’s settled in, and I follow him out of the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack just in case she needs something.

“You hungry?” he asks, detouring into the kitchen. Right—we did sort of skip dinner. My stomach growls at the idea of food.

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