Page 29 of Stolen

“You can end this, you know,” he said, circling me. “You can stop this at any time. The sooner you give in and accept your place, the sooner we can get you sold and on your way.”

Because that sounded so much better.

“Is this really how you want things to end? You want to die here? Like this? Because that’s exactly where you’re headed if you don’t submit,” he snarled, slamming the cane against my shoulder. I screamed again, rocking back and forth in my chains from the blow. The blindfold was soaked, my sweat and tears mixing into the fabric and stinging my eyes.

“Your freedom is gone. Your previous life, just a memory. There is nothing left but to submit to your new role.”Smack. “No matter how strong you think your resolve is, I will break it down.”Smack. “You think you’re the first one to rebel? You’re not, and you certainly won’t be the last. Just know this…” He came real close to my ear. “One way or another, every slave always breaks.”

Fuck him.

He rose again, circling me like the predator he was, twirling the cane between his fingers before slamming it against my ribs and forcing another scream from my scorched throat. I could feel my skin breaking under the force of the cane, blood spreading from my wounds as it dripped down my flesh.

Go to your happy place… Go to your happy place…

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Jason. I tried to imagine his soft green eyes staring at me through chocolate brown hair that hung down past his eyebrows. I tried to remember how warm he felt, how happy he made me, but the storm of reality thundered above me as the bite of that fucking cane slammed into my upper abdomen, dragging me back into the Hell I fought to escape from.

I immediately slouched forward, sucking my abs in and forgetting how to breathe as more pain radiated throughout my midsection.

As much as I tried to fight it, my plan of distraction never lasted long. The drug saw to that. I was stuck in this torment until the owner was finished with me.

I didn’t want to break. I wasn’t even sure if I could. Did I want to die like this? Was it better than the alternative? If I did choose death, I would have no chance of ever seeing my family again, and I would never get the chance to exact my vengeance on the people who did this to me. But giving in to them made me feel weak, and my pride had a huge problem with that. I was supposed to be the rough and tough chick that no one dared to mess with, and now here I was, chained up, beaten, and crying like a little bitch because everything fucking hurt right now.

The cane came down again, striking hard into the side of my thigh, my voice no longer audible. My throat felt ripped to shreds as my screams tore from my body in bulk.

“You know, you have a lovely scream, by the way. A perfectly sharp pitch that carries all your anguish right to my ears. It’s beautiful.”

I then felt his nose run down the side of my cheek until it stopped along my earlobe. “I could listen to it all day.”

Twisted son of a bitch.

Three more strikes came down against my back, compelling wretched misery to spear from my throat in echoes. I hunched into myself, straining against the cuffs on my wrists, attempting to break free from them to no avail. Hopeless exhaustion flooded me like a tsunami as I came to acknowledge the reality of my current state of existence.

I was in so much pain, both physically and mentally, and I found myself wanting to give in simply because it seemed so liberating now. This relentless torture would not cease until I gave this man what he wanted, but what would happen if I did?

Would he even stop or would he continue to hurt me until my new “status” was so far etched into my brain that I wouldn’t even remember my own name? Was that what his buyers wanted? Mindless sex robots incapable of thinking or doing anything unless instructed? After everything I had been through, after everything I had already suffered, that was the one fear that terrified me far more than any other threat in the world. I couldn’t lose myself to this life he wanted me to succumb to. I could not forget who I was or where I came from—where there were still people who loved and cared for me. I would not forget them.

But still…I might have to bend to avoid breaking…

The sound of the cane dropping to the floor caught my immediate attention. It clanked and rolled against the wood floor, introducing a new form of anxiety at what torture method he was moving on to. I could hear him rolling something over and stopped it in front of me. He then stood behind me and ripped the blindfold from my face. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the blinding light, but when they did, they settled on the reflection of a person I didn’t recognize.

Her tearstained face was red, vacant, and hollow. She was battered and bruised all over, her arms hung high above her head in chains, and her wet and disheveled red hair fell around her shoulders. Sweat and dirt covered her naked body with specks of blood spotting from her ribs. A large bruise in the shape of a shoeprint dominated her chest, commanding all of the attention.

Fuck, this girl was me. And behind her stood the monster responsible for her horrifying appearance.

Looking at myself this way made the pain so much worse. I hadn’t seen my reflection in days, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad. More tears trickled down my cheeks as I came to the realization that I just could not win this game. Not like this with my pride as my king. I would have to surrender that if I wanted to survive this—if I wanted to survivehim.

“Look at what you’ve done to yourself,” he said, standing behind me, shaking his head. “Was your stubbornness worth it?”

“Youdid this,” I whispered back defiantly.

“No,” he sneered, “youdid this with your inability to let go of what is no longer yours. You have no control anymore. You’ll do as you’re told, or you’ll die like all the others. It’s as simple as that,” he concluded.

I looked away from the mirror, attempting to ignore his statement as he’d now laid out death on the table as a viable option. I wasn’t ready to die, but when the time came to finally surrender, I couldn’t draw the flag because I couldn’t find it. What the fuck was it going to take for me to just give in? I knew I was just prolonging the inevitable. I could feel my body wanting to surrender, but my mouth just couldn’t say the words—my brain refused to allow it. God, I was so fucking stubborn.

Dissatisfied with my lack of response, he reached his hand around to my jaw and squeezed.

“Look at me, slave,” he snarled. I unwillingly obeyed and forced my eyes to meet his in the reflection. “There is no escaping this, and there is no escaping me. I am four times your size and over twice your weight. My strength and speed will always exceed yours. Always. Your resolve will not last, and mine will not sway. Whatever hope you have left of beating me in this little game is false as well as foolish. In what world do you ever imagine escaping me and your future?”

“One where I’m fully clothed,” I somehow managed to say against his grip.

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