Page 89 of Voracious

“Seeing you get so worked up over a useless slutisfunny. Want to know something funnier? A specific video was pulled from Christopher Fields’ computer.”

I slouch in the chair as I tug at the cuffs. If she mentions the video I was sent, I’ll fucking explode.

“In fact, shall we watch it?”

I frown as Archie slaps his legs with a grin and gets to his feet, messing about with my flatscreen until the picture changes. Cassie is already out of the room.

The local nightclub comes into view. The date is from nearly three years ago.

I glare as her wanker of a stepbrother drags her from the booth, and Jason stops them, shoving a finger in his face as he pulls Stacey behind him – protecting her. Christopher raises both hands and laughs, backing away from them. Jason says something to her. I think he’s asking if she’s okay, and the clip ends.

Frowning, I try to remain calm.

My breaths come out in short bursts as the next clip starts. A camera is sitting in the corner of Jason’s room, where three guys and Stacey’s stepbrother make the bed and carry a barely conscious Jason in, sitting him against the wall opposite the bed.

He’s wearing the top he borrowed from me. This is the same night.

One guy slaps his face, waking him, but his spit drips from his mouth, his eyes rolling.

The fuck?

At that point, Jason didn’t do drugs. He hated them – hated smoking too. Fuck, he barely drank. Seeing my big brother in this state makes me physically ill.

My teeth clench as they inject him with something. He attempts to push them away, but he’s too weak, and I want to smash their jaws off. He grips someone’s top before taking a fist to the face.

My heart stops as they bring Stacey in, both arms over their shoulders – three of them I recognise right away. Stacey killed them at the hotel.

Her head drops to the side. “No,” she slurs. “P… please, Chris.”

I yank at my cuffs as Chris slides down her dress, her breasts falling out. One of the guys he’s with twists her hair around his fist while the other slips off her shoes.

Bernie tilts her head. “This seems like the same setting as the clip you were sent. Doesn’t it, Kade?”

I don’t reply. I can’t. They strip her and lie her on the bed as I watch. As her brother tells them each touch will cost them, I feel my stomach flip.

The big ginger one, the one Stacey stabbed, slaps notes into Chris’s palm and unbuckles his belt.

I close my burning eyes as she begs him to stop.

He doesn’t stop, and neither does the next one while Chris films it on his phone – as he tells her he decides when she feels pleasure, when she can sleep with someone else and that when she comes, she better scream his name.

“N-No,” Stacey slurs, trying to scratch the guy’s face, but he swears and headbutts her. Stacey goes limp instantly.

My knuckles turn the whitest shade of white. My heart is shattering.

You prefer them older, don’t you?

You’re fucking dead to me.

Stop fucking crying, Stacey. It’s pathetic.

Please don’t leave me.

No matter how many times we fuck, I will nevereverfucking forgive you.

I’m so, so sorry, Freckles.

The first hour drags in. It’s torture to watch. I know what it feels like to have your consent stripped away; to be used and fucked while you barely have a grip on reality. I know how it feels to want them to stop, to try to fight them off. I remember my own voice being like Stacey’s – haunting me as she wakes and pleads. Cries. Even trying to hit back before being tied to the bedpost.

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