Page 111 of Patching Over

It’s been a month, maybe a week longer since we were kidnapped. While I know my brother is probably pounding the pavement at all hours of the day looking for us, he hasn’t found us yet, and I’m truly becoming worried about Moira.

When we first arrived, we were thrust into a room and ordered to strip down before we were physically examined by a few sadistic pieces of shit who reveled in sticking their hands all over my body. Just the thought has me shivering in my skin; I still feel violated, that’s for damn sure. Once it was determined that I was a virgin, I was separated from Moira, and currently work in the kitchen cooking for a bunch of brutish jackasses.

I am not unscathed, though, since I’m not the best cook. Every meal that I made, that was deemed unpalatable, earned me a whipping. My back is crisscrossed with healing, as well as open wounds, and if the way I feel is any indication, several are infected or heading that way. Sighing, I get out of bed even though it’s barely past five in the morning, shuffle into the smallbathroom that’s attached to my utilitarian room, and get ready for the day.

I’m ready, and now waiting, since my door will be unlocked any second and then, it’ll be time to head into the kitchen to perform my daily task. Maybe Moira will be there today, and I can check on her.

Moira wasn’t helping in the kitchen this morning as I’d hoped; I’ve seen her a few times since we arrived at this cult-like facility, and every single time we’ve crossed paths, she looks a little more rundown than the last time I’d seen her, as if she’s being abused night and day. While I didn’t set out to be a virgin, not many guys are too excited to go through the interrogation that Sleeper puts them through, so my dates have been few and far between. Oh, he might say he’s giving me ‘freedom’, but every single time I’ve gone out and hehasn’tmet the guy, he shows up where we’re at and acts like the stereotypical biker, belching, scratching his balls, and hollering out obscenities at the television. By the time he ‘pretends’ to see me, and he comes over to the table, I’m beyond seething, especially because once he introduces himself to my date, I see the look of revulsion and disgust cross his face.

At least Sleeper gives me a ride home after those instances when my date of the night hightails it, never once looking back. Hell, he even covers the bill that gets left behind, although, knowing him, he finds the asshole and gets his money back. I’ve never cared enough about the outcome to ask.

“Hey, have you heard?” one of the other women, Sandy, whispers to me after she looks around to make sure none of the so-called leaders are around to overhear us.

“About what?” I hiss back, while I continue to knead the dough that will hopefully turn into loaves of bread for lunch.

I say hopefully because my body needs a few more days to heal before I get another whipping. Just the thought has me sucking back tears. I refuse to cry around anyone; no, I save that for the shower or even into my pillow late at night. None of these fuckers will get my tears.

“Moira. Isn’t she your friend?”

My heart starts galloping in my chest at her words, and I can’t stop the shudder that courses through me. “Yes,” I murmur.

“She’s in the infirmary.” Her words have me pausing my actions and my eyes widening. I knew she was being abused, and if her stiff posture is anything to go by, this is bad… really bad.

“Why?” I probe, wanting to hear as many of the details she’s been privy to so I can figure out how I can help.

“Guess she fought back during one of the sessions. Alvin lost control and beat her until she passed out. Problem is, they used her during one of the last breeding times, and from my understanding, she’s pregnant. The higher ups arepissedat Alvin possibly hurting a future leader of the fundamentalists of the communion.”

Like I give that first fuck. What about my girl? What has this done to her psyche? She may not have been a virgin when we got here, but no woman deserves to be used and abused like it sounds as though she’s been. Not only that, but how sexist is it for a group of men to look down on a woman because she’s had a sexual partner or two. It’s not like these assholes are abstaining, for fuck’s sake! It’s vile and disgusting, as well as hypocritical as hell. And if he beat her, how badly is she hurt? And how long will it take her to heal?

Sleeper, where are you?I cry out in my head.Hurry and find us, I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to hold on.

“How is she?” I ask. “Do you know?”

“Not good, babe, which is why I risked getting whipped to tell you what I’ve found out. We can probably get a few of us to cover you and sneak you in to see her. I think she’s giving up.”

“Let me know when we can do this,” I request because I feel as if this is urgent. In fact, if I didn’t think all hell would break loose, I’d go right now.

“They’ve got a meeting tonight, we should be able to slip in for a few minutes, at least.” Her words give me a feeling of ease, because if Moira is giving up as she’s indicated, I may be the only one who can bring her back from the brink of self-imposed destruction.

Reaching out my hand, I take hers and squeeze it. “Thank you,” I mutter.

“You may not say that when you see her,” she warns.

“She’s my best friend, I don’t care if she’s only got one leg left, I will always want to see her,” I vehemently snarl. A sister never leaves a sister alone nor behind. We fight our battles together; we never give up on one another… ever.

“Okay, okay,” she says. “I’ll come find you when it’s safe.”

“Fucking hell, oh myGod, Moira,” I whisper as tears course down my face while I stare down at her beaten and battered face. That assholereallydid a number on her.

She hasn’t regained consciousness from what I’ve been able to glean, so I categorize every injury I can visibly see, vowingpayback and vengeance for every scratch and bruise I encounter upon my inspection.

“I love you, girlie, keep fighting, I know Sleeper is still looking for us and he’ll never stop until he locates us. I know he’s come close before because of all the moves we’ve made, but I don’t see how we can move with you hurt so badly. But trust me, babe, you won’t be left behind. Stay with me, Mo. I can’t do life without you.”

As I make my way back to my own cell, anger and rage war inside of me. If I had the gun that Sleeper bought me, I’d blast my way through the fuckers who’re here, find a phone, and call for outside help.

Curling on my cot after I get ready for bed, I whisper, “Hurry, Sleeper. Please, please hurry.”

CHAPTER

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