Page 9 of The Devil's Chaos

There were days I felt completely numb and desperately longed to be desired and wanted by someone. I was like an abused dog, ravenous for scraps from my owner. I would pretend I was someone else. Not Haven Benson, daughter of a monster and a hole for men to fill. Since the death of my mother, I’d always had an insatiable need for approval. There was this permanent itch that was impossible to satisfy.

My soul was restless, constantly searching for a new vice that would make me feel normal. To pull me out of the darkness I had lived in for so long. Sometimes, it was sex; other times, it was alcohol. Despite selling drugs for my family, I never used them myself. I was afraid that if I did, I’d like how they made me feel. That I would become dependent on them. I witnessed firsthand the power of drugs on the girls at work and the customers I sold to—they became euphoric, pain-free, and numb.

But most of all, they were given a temporary escape from life's burdens.

After all, who wouldn’t want to escape? Especially when I found myself on my rug-burned knees, my ankle twisted and starting to swell, and my pride wounded. In all these years of abuse, never had I been expected to engage in a gang bang, especially not with Larry, Moe, and Curly of the Three Stooges. For reasons beyond my understanding, my brother was allowing it. Which told me it wasn’t his choice. It was my father’s. This further told me that my father was desperate to seal this deal with Winston Grey, which was very curious.

I turned back around to see Winston approaching me from the front and his two friends circling me like the vultures they were. A hand caressed my cheek, and the chubby man to myleft unzipped his pants and proudly displayed his hard penis, stroking it for added effect.

It was below average at best.

I shifted my body, trying to put distance between my face and his dick, but someone grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I cried out in pain as I tried to free myself from their grasp. I was over people pulling my hair tonight.

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl?” one of the other men asked.

I looked up at him. “I was looking for my glasses so I could see that pathetic excuse of a dick in your hands.”

The angry, but shocked, look on his face before he raised his hand and backhanded me was worth all the pain in my face. I laughed, clutching my cheek with my hand, “Tiny—did I mention tiny?”

“Gerald, don’t,” Winston interrupted, his tone firm.

“You’re just going to let this whore talk to me like that?” the plump man, now identified as Gerald, questioned, his face red, and his eyes bulging.

“Yes, I am. Thiswhoreis Abel Benson’s daughter, and I’ll not have my head on a platter because you couldn’t handle an insult about the size of your below-average penis. I mean, come on, we’ve all seen it. It’s surely not the first time someone has insulted you,” he laughed,

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you.” Gerald, seething with anger, balled his fists and lunged at me. I braced myself for the impact, ready to take the blow. But before he could connect, Winston stepped in, grabbed him by the shoulder, and pulled him back.

“Easy, Gerald. I wasn’t kidding. You’re going to fuck up this deal with Abel. I said enough. You can fuck her, but don’t lay your hands on her again.”

Gerald’s face was twisted in a snarl, but he managed to gain control of his anger, albeit barely. He gave Winston a resentful glance before reluctantly lowering his arm.

Winston approached me, a thin smile playing on his lips. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you?” he said, running a finger along my jawline. “But not smart enough, I think.”

Before I could react, he gripped my face in his hand, forcing my head to tilt upward. His kiss was rough, tasting of vodka and cigars. I gagged, trying to pull away, but he only tightened his grip. “You hurt Gerald’s feelings, so it’s only fitting he gets to have you first.”

My attention shifted back to Gerald, who was now approaching me, his dick still hanging out of his pants. My heart sank as I knew what was going to happen next.

My brother was right. There are no heroes here.

Gerald's fat hand grabbed me by the throat and dragged me to the couch, my protests barely making a sound. Winston watched from behind, a satisfied smirk on his face as if this humiliation was right up his alley. They each moved to take their positions, one holding my arms above my head and the other helping Gerald spread my legs apart. His fat hand grabbed onto the lace material of my lingerie and ripped it open, exposing me. I squirmed and tried to push him off me with my hips, but he was too heavy, too strong. The others’ grip around my wrists and ankles made me cry out in pain. Gerald’s breath was hot on my face, his eyes wild as he fumbled with his pants, letting them fall to his ankles this time. As Gerald positioned himself on top of me, I steeled myself for the pain and violation, knowing I wouldn’t escape this. When he thrust into me, I almost lost it. But I refused to cry or show any weakness. Every thrust felt like a dagger, and my soul withered away. My eyes burned with resentment and pain as I looked at all of their faces. They were enjoying this—this perverted power and control that they hadover me. I should have suffocated the urge to open my mouth. I should have kept silent and endured the pain—but I had a fire inside of me that couldn’t be tamed.

“Is it in?” I asked, laughing.

Winston and the other man burst into peals of laughter, their bodies swaying as the effects of alcohol and drugs made them unsteady on their feet. Unfortunately, Gerald did not appreciate my question. His face contorted into anger, and his eyes went dark.

“You bitch!” he roared, slapping me across the face. The impact sent shockwaves through my head, momentarily blinding me. “Turn her over and hold her down. I’m going to show you what happens when you disrespect me. And every time you go to sit down, you’ll remember who was in this ass.”

I ripped my arms out of Winston’s hands and launched my fist with all my strength into Gerald’s face. His nose made a sickening crunch as it collided with my knuckles, and he stumbled back, clutching his face and howling in agony. Winston and the other man looked at Gerald and then back at me, shock evident on their faces. A satisfied smirk crept onto my lips as I brushed a few strands of hair out of my face and giggled as Gerald held his nose; blood poured out, seeping between his chubby fingers.

The shrill sound of the fire alarms filled the air as if on cue, and water began gushing from the sprinklers above us, drenching us all within seconds.

“What the hell?” Winston shouted over the noise. “Let’s get out of here!”

They turned and shuffled out of the room, and I fell back onto the couch, leaning my head back and letting the cold water run down my face. I looked up at the ceiling, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over me. It was almost comical—how these powerful men stumbled out of the room, tripping over theirfeet and slipping on the wet floor while I sat there, soaked and victorious.

But more than that, it was a sign of hope.

Could it be that the universe was finally taking pity on me and showing me some mercy?

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