Where Darkness Dwells

by Lynnette Brisia

  There had been a woman here when he'd first woken, he'd said. But he hadn't seen her since that first day. She seemed older than him, but he only caught a glimpse of her before she was stolen away. Kicking. Crying. Begging.

  He said he tried not to think about what became of her. It was easier on his psyche if he didn’t.

  It was easier on mine as well.

  It didn't matter the things Jackson would eventually tell us about what had been done to him – torture, assault, sex with the one they called 'Little Missy,' – all I could see was that he could be a threat. A threat to Evie.

  He'd been torn down, made into something not himself. And so because of the things done to him, I couldn't trust he wouldn't turn on us.

  Even if I did now believe he wasn't a plant by those who took us.

  So I held Evie. I held as though I was stone and nothing could penetrate me.

  Looking back, I wish I could have been steel. Protected us both. Saved us from this hell.

  Saved us from everything.

  The next time the door opened, instead of keeping their promise, Jackson was once again removed. Apparently 'Little Missy' was not pleased with hearing about his outburst and wanted retribution for it.

  He fought against the hands but it was all for nothing in the end.

  There were two of them. He was weak. It was pointless to fight.

  "Caleb?" My name was so soft on her lips, an unimaginable amount of time passing since the door had opened.

  "Yes, Evie?"

  "Do you… do you think they'll make us do those things too? What am I saying? Oh God, of course they will,” she breathed out harshly, angrily. But even in her anger, I could still hear her fright. “Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"

  I closed my eyes. I was a virgin. I'd had my first kiss when I was twelve – nothing memorable, mind you, but I'd never had sex. Of any kind. Again, not something anyone knew about. I didn't want to think about the things Jackson described because I didn't want to imagine them happening to me.

  And even more, I didn't want to imagine them happening to Evie.

  I couldn't ponder my thoughts too long though. The door flew open and the light was again, blinding. Once again Jackson was deposited against the wall. I could hear him groaning heavily, his breath short and ragged. They'd no doubt beat him.

  With my focus on him, I made a mistake, let my guard down. In my blindness, hands grabbed at me, and pulled Evie from me.

  It didn’t matter the grip I’d had on her prior, one minute she was with me, and the next she was gone from my arms. Her scream ripping through the empty space was all I had of her location.

  Kicking and screaming did nothing. Pleading for mercy got us nowhere.

  It was as though our voices were muted. Our panic vacant.

  Darkness gave way to shocking light. Dark room turned to hallway. Bright hallway turned into room. Nothing discernable. Everything impossible to comprehend.

  Hands tied and raised to rafters, I forced my eyes to adjust to this new room, this new type of brightness. There were chairs lining the walls. And a large California King sized bed, stripped bare, in the center of the room. My stomach turned at the image, and all of Jackson’s descriptions of his torture springing to the forefront of my mind.

  What stuck out the most were those around us.

  Our captors wore masks. Masqueraded masks, designed to offer discomfort to onlookers and secrecy to the wearer behind the beak.

  Perfectly hidden.

  "Would you look at that," a sickeningly sweet voice crooned behind me. "She has such beautiful dark skin and that hair! Long enough to get a good grip on. I’ve no doubt the fun to be had with that,” the voice laughed as it continued its perusal. “And he, pale flesh and brown hair making those blue eyes just stand right out.” It felt like we were a product to be bought at some twisted auction rather than human beings. And that unfortunately, explained so very much about our current predicament. “Gorgeous specimens. You did good work, boys."

  There were high-fives and heavy breathing that sounded more like grunting to my agonized ears. "What do you want from us?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt. Evie just whimpered beside me, unable to pretend.

  "Mr. Sutton, you and Ms. Drake are to be my new pets. I am so incredibly thrilled you have joined us here." I bristled at the fact that this woman, whoever she was, acted as though we were here willingly. She acted as though we’d been given a choice. I also seethed at the fact they knew our names. Then again, they'd no doubt seen our ID's. My pockets were empty. And the coats we’d been wearing were nowhere to be found. Meaning they had all our information. "I can't wait to see what fun we can have together. Seventeen years old, a perfect age. Young, virile, supple, all those hormones. And you’re both so very attractive. Oh I can't wait!" The voice laughed ridiculously.

  I couldn't speak after that, bile rising in my throat. Before I had the chance to ask who she was, who they were, before I could voice why us, a vicious snap sounded behind us. The sting that followed against my back was nearly unbearable.

  I would have doubled over if not for the restraints. Even still, it stole my breath while simultaneously forcing a scream from my lips.

  Two more snaps, followed by excruciating pain and cries from Evie, and then nothing. I grit my teeth, feeling a warm trickle run down my back, sticking my gray thermal against my skin. And then, a hand was on me. Out of nowhere, a cold hand was on me, touching my chest, creating a path down my torso toward my jean covered crotch.

  "Not one for pain, I see. That's okay. Not everyone is. Some need different… stimulus."

  I tried to swing away, but I was immobile. The ties at the rafters too tight to break from.

  Malicious hands touched me, gripping hard, humming approval flowing from lips I still couldn't see.

  And then my body betrayed me. So very thoroughly, it betrayed.

  "Very nice, indeed, Mr. Sutton. So very… yummy."

  The hands departed and I heard a cry so anguished fly from Evie that my eyes snapped open and toward her. My shame, my agony, forgotten in an instant.

  Hands. Too many hands. Male hands were pulling at her shirt, snapping the buttons away, pawing at her bra-covered chest before moving down to the jeans she wore.

  The hands groped and assaulted, fondled and abused until Evie was no longer able to fight against their attack.

  She slumped against her ropes, her body limp and done.

  And then I watched a flash of silver push toward her cheek, slicing delicate skin. Caramel turned red, angry as it dripped to her nearly naked chest, staining the lace of her undergarment.

  "Leave her alone!" I tried shouting at deaf ears, feeling a sense of energy flow through me. I desired nothing more than saving Evie though logically I knew I couldn’t do anything. "Stop, don't hurt her!"

  "See the way her chest heaves, the way her nipples are hard against that beautiful blue lace? She's enjoying this, Mr. Sutton. Just like you did." Saccharine filled my ears again and I cringed away. How could they think we wanted this? How could they think hurting us was enjoyable? Regardless of the way my body had reacted to her hands, I did not want her touch. And I knew Evie most definitely did not want these vile men touching her. I watched the knife leave Evie's skin and return to its pocket, but that didn't make me feel better. Especially with the words that were uttered next. "Hmm… you know, I have a delicious idea for the two of you. Change things up a bit, I think."

  Though the voice laughed, her idea was never voiced. Not to Evie or myself, at least. And I think that made everything worse. Perhaps she knew it too. Leave us with nothing but possibility. Leave us with nothing but dread.

  We hung from those rafters like pieces of meat, our shame permeating through the air until our hands had long gone numb, and humiliation was the only thing we knew.

  SIX

  "It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers the
m with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."

  ― Rose Kennedy

  It could have been days. It was probably only a few hours later. It felt like eternity.

  We were returned to the dark after our introduction.

  I welcomed it. Welcomed the all-encompassing darkness. Wished it could hide the shame I felt crawling over my skin. The woman had touched me, had forced excitement from me, forced me to watch Evie manhandled, molested, marred until we were both nothing but listless tears and mangled dishonor.

  I ignored Jackson. He ignored us.

  He’d kept his back to us, blanket over his body like a shield. I didn’t know if it was protection from us and what he had to have known we suffered, or if he was hiding from them. Either way, we ignored each other.

  When my limited vision came back to me, I tried to go to Evie but she wouldn't let me near her. She was nothing more than shaking sobs and broken heart, trying to cling her mangled shirt around her body. And seeing her shattered killed me. The way they’d touched her, the pain they’d inflicted? All of it tore me up.

  Eventually though, her fear overwhelmed her shame.

  She moved closer to me, gripping my arm, digging her nails into my skin. In that moment, I felt her mark more deeply than the shame. And I tried to hold onto it with everything I had left.

  "I can't do what they want," she sobbed so silently into my ear. Her words were nothing more than pain and desolation. "I'll die, Caleb, I'll die."

  I would too.

  Just thinking about their untold promises made me long for death.

  Jackson had most certainly been right. And I knew what we’d just experienced hadn't even been close to the worst of it.

  Those thoughts made a terrible chill run through me. I almost lost my breath, my lungs twisted with panic.

  Our reprieve from our nightmare, from the idea lasted only so long, though.

  The jokester, cruel in his act, had returned before we had even had a chance to exhale from his previous show.

  Vibrating, fright draining from our pores, we were pulled from the dark, and back to the room.

  There were no ropes hanging from rafters this time.

  Instead, the mood in all its despicable glory had been set.

  Candles were lit.

  Soft jazz music floated from invisible speakers.

  Shiny red sheets lined the bed. I had no doubt they were more than likely silk.

  But there was one thing that stuck out the most in the room.

  Every chair was filled with finely dressed men hidden behind even more masks.

  An audience for our desecration.

  Evie clung to me as best she could, in spite of her trembling. And I tried to keep her to me, tried to hold onto her, to our sanity, but our captors had plans.

  The idea, unspoken and wholly unwanted, was come to pass.

  My insides curled in on themselves.

  "Welcome back, Mr. Sutton, Ms. Drake," the woman spoke. I could see painted red lips smile harshly below where her bejeweled black mask ended. Her mask matched the black robe she wore. For a moment, I feared her role in this idea, until she spoke again. "We're so happy to see you perform for us tonight. There is much excitement in the air. As I’m sure you can see."

  I didn’t look. I couldn’t.

  In an instant, hands grabbed at me, tearing Evie away. I tried to fight against the hands, but there were too many of them. They quickly began disrobing me, snatching my now torn clothes over my head, down my legs, away from my body, as other hands pulled at Evie's.

  I watched her blue flannel be yanked from her arms, falling to the floor. Then followed her bra, jeans and panties. She begged them to stop, but they just laughed. Laughed and groped as they stripped her.

  And then, we were escorted forcefully toward the bed.

  Deviant hands pushed Evie's shaking, naked form down, forcing her onto her back. Her wrists and ankles were locked in grips so tight, knuckles had turned white. I stared wide-eyed. The first time I ever see a woman naked, completely naked and not through porn; and it is unwanted.

  Never in my life did I imagine the first time I saw a woman nude, she would be crying in frightened hysterics.

  While I knew she wasn’t frightened of me, the terrified tears pouring from Evie’s eyes wouldn’t let my heart understand that.

  Strong arms forced me onto the bed. A hot sting against my spine urging me forward.

  It would have been funny, if not for the circumstance, but I didn’t even feel the pain from the whip in that moment.

  "So romantic. You defend her. You must take her," the sugary voice demanded.

  Evie's eyes were wide and petrified. If it were possible, the soft, warm brown had turned to white. Her fear had drained away their color.

  I felt my mind shut down. I couldn't do this. There was no way I could do this. It wasn’t possible for me to do this.

  Evie didn't want to have sex with me. Especially like this. I couldn't force myself on her. I wouldn’t force myself on her. That wasn’t who I was. Besides, I was a virgin, for fuck's sake! This was not how this was supposed to happen. This was not how my first time was supposed to occur.

  "No. No, I won't. I can't." I tried to be brave, to sound strong and steadfast, as they made my body loom over her trembling one. This was so wrong. So horribly, horribly wrong.

  Hot, wet breath at my ear, ended me. "You will, or one of these fine gentlemen will get their shot. I'm sure any one of them is just dying for a chance," the voice crooned as laughter sounded against my breaking mind.

  Time stopped. Evie locked eyes with mine. My heart ceased to beat.

  We both knew. We both knew the promise would be kept. And it would destroy her.

  "Please, just let us go," I begged, my eyes remaining on Evie's terrified ones. Tears poured from them and I saw drops fall to her face from mine.

  A snap against my back told me there would be no mercy.

  I shuddered so badly from the pain, I could barely function, but I knew there was no choice. I lowered my body against Evie's. I kept my eyes on her, trying to convey what I wasn't allowed to voice. I prayed she could hear my indignity.

  I prayed she could see my anguish.

  Because I needed her to know. I needed her to know I didn’t want this. It didn’t matter if I found her attractive, and I did, that wasn’t even a question, but this wasn’t what I wanted for her, for us. I prayed she knew all of this because our choice was gone.

  Again, my body betrayed.

  She was so warm and soft. Her breasts firm but pliable against my chest, her skin like satin on a cool night.

  But it was the heat radiating from between her thighs cradling my own, which overwhelmed me. I was hard instantly. Hard and so full of disgust because of it.

  "I'm so sorry, Evie. I'm so sorry," I whispered, as my lips brushed across hers. If I had to do this, I wasn't going to be cruel about it. I would kiss her. I would love her as much as I could so she didn’t hate me too much. "I'm so sorry, baby."

  But cruelty does not follow the lines of decency.

  It does not allow for desire or compassion.

  It does not even speak the same language as humanity.

  As I tasted the tears pouring from Evie's eyes, and inhaled her quivering breaths, I felt hands grab at my hips, palming my cock. Felt these hands grab me roughly, pulling and tugging, moving me toward their goal. Felt them direct me and force me against Evie's heat. And then I felt that heat, so tight and unbelievable, overwhelm me as Evie screamed out in agony at the intrusion of my body into hers.

  I didn't last long. Barely three thrusts before blinding pleasure exploded from deep in my belly and out my loins. And I was glad for it. I didn't even feel embarrassed by the taunts from the gathered watchers. Didn't register their laughs that I was so surprisingly inexperienced, I ignored the ridicule that they couldn't wait till "next time" to see if I could do “better.” To see if I were man enough to “make the girl come at least
once.”

  When I'd imagine my first time, fantasizing in my room late at night, I always wanted to be the guy that went above the standard. I wanted to last, surprise the girl, whoever she’d end up being, and go for longer than two pumps. It'd always been an ego thing, something every guy thinks to himself while hoping to make real.

  But now? Now that’s all changed. The fact that it was over so quickly made me shudder with relief. The less time Evie suffered the better. The less time I was part of what brought her suffering, the better. Though the look of absolute terror on her face at the moment of penetration will never leave me for as long as I live.

  This was not how I ever imagined my first time to be.

  The first time I had sex, it was against my will. I was a virgin. And now I know Evie had been one too.

  SEVEN

  “When you reach the end of what you should know, you will be at the beginning of what you should sense.”

  ― Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam

  “Do you think you’ll go to the Homecoming game?” I asked Evie, as I took my seat beside her at our table.

  It was a Tuesday. Homecoming week was in full swing, with everyone dressing for the day’s theme. Monday had been pajama day, apt for the fact most hated Monday’s. Though I did hear of at least two students being sent home for inappropriate attire. Surprising to most was that Maribel was not one of them. Today was 60’s day. Everywhere one looked, tie-dyed shirts, billowy skirts, flowers and peace signs were visible. It was a hippie’s paradise, or at least a romanticized version of one.

  I was wearing some kind of peasant-y shirt my dad claimed belonged to my grandpa, and tight jeans that resembled bell-bottoms without actually being such. Thanks to Mandy, I had a “very manly” peace sign drawn on my cheek.

  Now while I hadn’t really made an effort, Evie most certainly had. She had on a soft peach colored cotton shirt that hung off one shoulder, though she did have a shirt on underneath, just in case, with this amazingly multi-colored skirt that just seemed to flow with every move she made. And her hair was down, out of its ponytail, and littered with flowers. She was also wearing sandals that showed off adorably pink painted toes.