Page 21 of Pleasure Lessons

Her eyes flare, and she looks like she’s about to rush me when Arthur puts his arm out and blocks her. He tightens his grip on me, pushing his fingertips into my flesh. I cry out. I never expected violence like this from Arthur.

The guards yank me by my elbows and pull me back toward the house, causing my purse to fall to the ground, spilling my mother’s letters everywhere. Almost amused, Arthur bends down and picks them up. “Letters from your mother,” he muses, flipping through them. He taps me on the nose with them. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you have these back. Boys, take her back to her room and lock the door. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.”

I kick and scream as the massive men grip me hard and haul me back across the gravel to the house. I try to fight back, but I’m completely outmatched. There’s nothing I can do.

I’m nearly sobbing as I think of Rhett, sitting in his truck where we planned. He’ll be waiting for me. And I’ll never show up.

Will he ever forgive me?

I’m tossedinto my room like a bag of trash tossed into the dumpster out back. My bag lands on my head, knocking me to the floor. The door slams shut behind me, and I hear it lock from the outside, then some other kind of grinding, metallic sound–like a deadbolt.

The room is silent. Tears fall from my eyes. And then the sobbing begins.

How can he be so cruel? Why would he even want me when it’s clear I don’t want him? He’ll never be able to make me love him, but he will be able to destroy me. Stop me from ever seeing Rhett again. Force me to live here like a caged bird, trapped, silent, and obedient, while I think about my love for the rest of my life.

I draw in a shaky breath and try to calm myself, but the tears fall, one by one, darkening the wood until I feel the ache in my throat from all the sobbing.

I look at my window. It’s high, but I could make it. But when I go over to it, I see the flashlights below. More of Arthur’s men posted up to keep me prisoner.

My knees give out from under me, and I curl up into a ball. My mother’s letters are gone. Rhett will be barred from ever seeing me again, and I’m running out of ideas.

Can it be that Arthur has finally won?

Will I belong to him for the rest of my life?

9

CASSANDRA

The room is quiet.Like the cold, dark void of space. A violent silence that seems to exist to crush me. I’ve been locked in here all day. I’ve seen no one, heard nothing. Sun streams weakly through the windows as I sit on the floor, knees up, my hoodie stretched over my legs. I don’t even want to be in the bed. The bed Arthur paid for. Sure, he may have also paid for this floor, but at least I’m not getting any comfort out of it. I don’t want any comfort from him in any way. At this point, I’d rather starve than eat any of his food.

My bag lays beside me, still packed. But my heart is torn open, spilling my soul into the silent void. It feels like I’m deflating, losing myself as every second ticks by.

I didn’t make it. I didn’t get to Rhett. And now I may not ever see him again.

He must think I’m awful–that I bailed on him. Poor little rich girl had a change of heart. Pain stings my heart as I picture him thinking such a thing.

Last night was meant to be a triumphant escape. A memory for us to look back on with joy. But now all I see is a blur of Arthur’s sickening face, Clarisse’s gaze of betrayal, and his men dragging me across the grounds like a slave. No one’s come allday to check on me. And why would they? No one in this house even cares about me. I’m just another possession to Arthur. A business transaction. Another win for a man who never loses.

I rest my head on my knees, biting back tears. No more crying. I need to be strong. I can’t let Arthur see just how badly he’s wounded me. But it’s almost impossible not to break down when I think about how let down Rhett must feel.

Hours pass. I stare at the floor, counting my heartbeats to pass the time. And then, I hear something…

Smash.

My head snaps up. I hear it again. A hard thud, followed by the shout and clamor of male voices.

Footsteps, quick and heavy, like a rhinoceros galloping down the hall. More shouting.

“Back!” someone shouts. “Get back!”

A massive crash, and something–someone–slams against the wall with such force that I’m shocked it didn’t cave my wall in. A man cries out in pain, one of Arthur’s men from the sound of it. My heart leaps, and I rocket to my feet.

There’s another grunt of pain as someone hits the floor, and then the door–my door–splinters in as Rhett’s foot drives it clean off its hinges. It falls inward, and he stands there tall, his chest heaving, framed by the shattered wood like a hero.

“Rhett…” I mutter, barely able to speak. “Am I dreaming?”

He’s breathing heavily. Blood drips from his knuckles. His shirt is torn, and his chest is rising and falling like a man who’s just been through hell.

---