Page 31 of Tinley's Daddy
Again, he held back from speaking his mind. Like he wanted to go all Daddy Dom mode on me but was afraid of how I would react.
To be honest, it wouldn’t work on me. That was what I told myself.
While I hadn’t shared specifics, he must have an idea of what I’d been through. Being taken against my will, having to grieve while being raped, beaten, and humiliated. The stuff I had been through tainted me. I had nothing left to give. Who would ever want me when they found out the truth? Strangely, that rationale offered comfort. The last millisecond of hope I had was destroyed when I watched another man die in front of me.
Constantine was an Italian. In his early forties, attractive. He picked me out of twenty other girls. He took me to a village in a small valley. It seemed like we were the only two people in the world. He gave me a bath and dressed me in the softest fuzzy onesie. He fed me homemade pasta with marinara sauce and didn’t get mad when the sauce dripped on my clothes. He just changed me into another one after dinner. He sat me on the floor with the television turned to cartoons. It was in another language I didn’t recognize. He ran his hand through my hair and braided it for me. Goose bumps popped up on my skin. He always had his hands on me but not in a sexual way. At night, he took me into a separate room made up for a little girl with white furniture and pink bedding with ruffles everywhere. A soft white kitten stuffie with a pink nose sat on the pillows, waiting for me. He tucked me in and read me a story. It was inItalian, but his voice did the characters, and I almost cracked a smile at his silliness. He kissed me on the forehead and turned on a night-light and left the room. The lock clicked in place. I didn’t have to check it. All night I stayed in bed, on my back, willing my eyes to stay open. I knew it was all too good to be true, but the next day was more of the same. He bathed me, clothed me, fed me. We went out back and strolled around the property grounds. The beautiful mountains covered in deep greenery contrasted with the clear blue sky. He put me down for a nap in the afternoon. At night, he woke me up while whispering in Italian. He had fixed me another pasta dish. That night, he put me in bed again.
It went on like this for five days.
The sixth day was another story.
That morning, I woke up to shouting in English. The door flew open and three of the guys who had held me captive for the longest filed into the room.
One of them dragged the Italian in. His face was bloody and bruised. He held one hand to his side. His right foot seemed to be pointing in the wrong direction. They picked him up and threw him in the plush white chair in the corner. His blood stained the fur.
They ripped my onesie off. My eyes trailed to the cat stuffie as one of the guys ripped it in half and threw it to the ground. They all took turns to make me hurt. I stared into the Italian’s eyes and thought I saw him crying. It could have been from the pain he was in, but I liked to think it was for me a little.
That was the last moment of hope, and it broke me even further, but it also spurred on my need to escape. Because when I tried to escape, I knew they would kill me, and I welcomed it. Even if I did survive, what kind of life would it be?
CHAPTER 10
JOSH
The cabin lights had dimmed. I sat across from her, peeking every few minutes to watch her sleep. She muttered and it made my heart race. Not in a good way. She moved a lot, trying to get comfortable. Once she settled and drifted back to sleep, it wouldn’t be long before she wiggled and woke up all over again. I thought she’d settled for good, but when I looked up, her eyes were open, and tears were pooling. She stared into my soul. When she looked at me, it felt like she knew what was going on in my mind and it scared us both.
“Hey.” I turned toward her. “You can’t sleep?”
She leaned up and shook her head. She flopped back down.
“Can you sit with me?” Her voice was half muffled in the pillow.
I stood and slid down to the floor near her feet. Again, I held back from touching her. And she noticed.
“Bad dreams?” I rested an arm on the couch next to her leg.
“Bad memories.” She shuffled to her side. “But that’s not why I can’t sleep.” She rested her head on her hand. Her body shuddered and then she burst into tears.
“Hey, sweet Tinley.” I scooted forward so I was closer to her. “What’s wrong?”
“Ugh!” She groaned and buried her head in the pillow and continued to sob. Fuck it. I had to comfort her the only way I knew how. I laid my hand on her back. She stiffened but didn’t move away or push me away. I rubbed small circles on the center of her back. Her sobs quieted.
“What’s wrong, Tinley?” I whispered.
“I’m broken.” She sniffled.
“Oh, sweet Tinley.”
She groaned and pushed my arm away. Her tears continued. They racked her whole body.
“Tinley.” She couldn’t hear me over the tears. The flight attendant peeked her head out of her seat behind the kitchen. I waved her off, but she frowned at me.
“Tinley!” I used my Dom voice, and it worked better than expected. Tinley stopped crying and the flight attendant sat back in her seat out of view. She stared back at me with the most sorrow-filled expression on her face and those big brown eyes wanted me to fuck off and help her in equal measure.
“You are not broken.” I leaned in closer to her. “You are brave and beautiful, and I’m not going to let anyone, especially you, say different.”
She wiped at her face and flopped over onto her back.
“But—”
