Page 4 of Unlocked

Please don’t be her, I think to myself while holding my breath. She can’t help it, I tell myself. She just loves me too much. Another door opens in the hallway and I hear my brother’s angry voice.

“What are you doing?”

I hear my mother whisper, but I can’t make out what she says. My brother is angry and his voice gets louder. “We had a deal. You are supposed to stay away from him.”

I carefully make my way out of bed and creep towards my door in time to see Vivian's silk nightgown disappear across the hall into my brother’s room.

Does he know what’s been happening? She told me it was just me. I slide down my bedroom wall before planting myself against it on the floor. I wipe my wet eyes with the back of my hands before sending out a silent prayer. One day, we will get out of here and when we do, we won’t ever look back.

Chapter 4

Jamison

Seventeen years old

“You guys are lucky to be alive." the officer states. “Had you heard the intruders and tried to help your parents, they might have killed you both.”

“Where are our parents?” Jonathan asks from next to me.

“I’m sorry, but they didn’t make it,” another woman answers, as she walks up next to the officer and stares down at us both. She looks important, with her business suit and her fancy badge. ‘The type of woman who probably gets off on touching little boys,’ I think, sneering to myself. The last memory I had with our adoptive parents crashes into me.

“You boys will age out soon. That’s when you get to have real fun. After all, you put your time in,” my foster father says with a smile. My brother, Jonathan, says nothing as he sits at the dinner table next to me. “We will have to make another appearance tomorrow night, though.”

“You said last time was the last time,” I grit out. My fingers dig into the sides of my chair as I fight to control my anger. I so badly want to reach across the table and wrap my hands around his neck. I want to watch his life fade from his eyes as I strangle him with my bare hands. My brother sits stiff beside me, probably thinking my same thoughts. We’ve bothgrown so much in the past year, both in height and weight. We’ve been working out and training in multiple forms of combat. Our parents don’t know it yet, but we won’t be making any appearances at The Cellar ever again.

My father narrows his eyes at me. “It’s been almost a year, Jamison. You know the rules. Multiple visits a year until fourteen. Once a year until eighteen. And if you cause a problem like last year, I’ll make sure Jonathan takes your visit as well.”

“I only gave her what she asked for,” I growl out. Inside, the memory of Mrs. Palmer screaming as I held her down and fucked her until she bled surfaces. It took three guards to pull me off of her that night, and after, she had me strapped down so she could perform her own sick punishments on me. Everything she did to me that night was worth it when I got to watch her limp around in pain from my assault. She’d told me over the years how much she loved my fire while she abused me. It was only fair I finally got to show her. She was marked on my list the first time she put her disgusting hands on my body and one day, I truly would get the chance to pay her back.

“She couldn’t leave her house for a week,” my mother exclaims. She’s acting like she gives a fuck about anything other than herself. She’s just as bad as that bitch and she’s just as sick. They all are.

“There won’t be an issue,” my father says sternly.

I nod my head in agreement but don’t say a word.

“Your mother and I will retire for bed. You both should get some sleep as well.” Without another word, they both excuse themselves and exit through to their wing of the house.

An hour later, both Jonathan and I sneak through their hall, gasoline and rope in hand. The grunts and moans sound through their door as we approach their bedroom. My father isthe first to see Jonathan as we enter. He stops mid thrust as he stares at him, rope dangling from Jonathan’s fingers.

“Well, this is new." He laughs. He’s on his knees with our mother bent over doggy style. She peers sideways, trying to get a better look at what is happening. “Did you come to play? I know how much your mother would enjoy your baby cock.”

“How about you choke on it instead?” I sneer as I come up behind him and wrap the rope in my hands around his neck. He immediately starts flailing around, attempting to pull the rope from his neck, but my grip is too tight. Our mother screams and tries to push herself from the bed, but Jonathan is on her immediately. He wraps the ropes around her wrists intricately behind her back before doing the same with her ankles.

“Beautiful,” I muse. Our father grows slack in my arms as he passes out from his lack of oxygen. I drop him to the bed and tie him up as well. Jonathan looks at me with his signature smile while we both enjoy our work.

“Jon..Jonathan? Baby, what are you doing?” Our mother stutters out, making my brother’s brows crease. The small sign of remorse flicks across his face, making me growl out.

“Don’t fucking talk to him.” I can see the turmoil consuming him. I suffer from lack of emotion while my brother is the complete opposite. My better half, essentially.

“They won’t hurt us ever again, brother,” I say, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me.

She cries out from the bed, “But I love you.”

“You don’t fucking love him!” I scream at her as I grab the gas can and start to pour it over her body. “You need him for your sick pleasure.”

She sputters, as I pour it over her face, and continues to cry uncontrollably. Next, I pour it over my father. He wakes as the gasoline hits him, crying out in alarm.

“What the fu–," he starts, looking at me. “Boys? What do you think you are doing?”

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