Uncovering You 10: The Finale

by Scarlett Edwards

  I’ve never felt this helpless, pathetic, or desperate in my entire life.

  Esteban checks his watch. “Oh!” he says. “It looks like you have some hours of lucidity left. We should probably make good use of that time.”

  “Splendid idea, my boy,” Hugh says, clapping Esteban on the shoulder. “What do you suggest?”

  “I think…” Esteban taps his lips. “…that another video shoot might be in order.” He turns away and barks at the guards. “Omar, Sergio. Bring her up!”

  Big Man and Leader come down the steps. I assume they’re going to carry me in the wheelchair up the steps. I’m caught off guard when Leader kneels down and cuts my straps. Then Big Man takes my elbow and heaves me up.

  I stagger, off-balance, a little light-headed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Scar Face says. “Too much sun, hmm?”

  Big Man chuckles and prods me forward with one thick finger as if I were no more than cattle.

  I plod up the steps, silently hating them all, wishing desperately I could find some way out of this situation. But I can’t. There’s nothing I can do. I’ve been rendered completely helpless.

  I’m directed into another chair by the table. I sit. The two guards stand behind me. Hugh, Esteban, and Rose get comfortable on the other side.

  I glare at them. “So?” I demand. “What is it now?”

  Hugh shakes his head. “Whatever happened to that stripper wig, Lilly? I thought it was very fetching.”

  A chorus of laughter. I am being humiliated.

  I sit tall and try to pretend it doesn’t bother me.

  Hugh motions with one hand for everyone to quiet down. “My son received our request a number of days ago,” he says. “Along with a certain video. We’ve given him until the end of the week to formulate a reply. But,” Hugh taps his lips. “He insisted on seeing you, first.”

  My heart leaps in my chest. Jeremy is coming to see me? Could it be true?

  “On video, of course,” Rose interjects, reading the excitement on my face all too well.

  No shit, I scold myself. How could I be so stupid?

  “And so, here we are,” Hugh says. He withdraws the camera from beneath the table and turns it on. He points it at me. “Say hi to Jeremy, sweetheart.”

  “Jeremy,” I begin in a rush, “wherever you are, whatever they want, don’t—“

  Hugh slams the little recording window shut with a look of disgust. “She still hasn’t learned. Has she?”

  “I told you she can be stubborn,” Rose mumbles, sipping at her drink.

  Esteban stands up. “Let me,” he says. He looks at the two guards standing behind me. “I know a way to make her submissive.”

  I grunt as I’m thrown on the floor of that cold, dark cellar. Metal pipes surround me. That constant, drip-drip-drip of leaking water reminds me of where I am.

  The entrance door closes with a groan. The hinges scream.

  I try to crawl away and am kicked in the gut. Pain consumes me. I don’t have the energy to fight or resist.

  Laughter. Laughter from the guards. The sound echoes through the enclosed cavern.

  Leader stands back as Big Man picks me up. I whimper as I’m shoved face-first into a wall. The smell of rust pervades my senses.

  A hand grabs my ass. Squeezes, and then slaps me once.

  I force my mind to retreat far, far away, to a distant corner where none of this feels real.

  But alarm grips me when I realize I can’t do it. I can’t find a faraway place. I cannot disassociate.

  I snap back to the present, and become acutely aware of all the aches and pains of my body.

  Footsteps on the floor. Deep, ominous thuds made by army boots.

  Leader appears at my side as Big Man pins me to the wall. He licks his finger, then in the most disgusting way possible trails it down the side of my neck, to my shoulder, past the collar of my robe.

  I jerk and try to struggle free. All that earns me is an admonishing tsk, tsk, and a tightening of Big Man’s grip on me.

  “Turn her around,” Leader says. “Give me her arms.”

  I whimper. Sobs overtake my body as I’m twisted roughly around. The back of my head hits the unforgiving, unyielding concrete wall. I cry out in pain.

  I’m shaking. Trembling. I’m cold. Oh so cold. Tears stain my cheeks and I feel like all the strength has been stolen from my body.

  My left hand is held out. I hear a metallic click, and look in horror as I find a handcuff around my wrist. Leader reaches up and connects the other end to a horizontal pipe.

  The same is done to my other hand. Both are locked in place above me so my arms make a V. I feel the burning stretch as my sore muscles are splayed out. The tightness runs down my arms and through my chest. It coalesces into a horrible ball of pain.

  The metal cuts into my wrists. I flail a little, trying to find relief. When I see that it’s useless, I let my hand go limp. I let my whole body go limp.

  My head falls and I sag.

  “Beautiful,” leader says, stepping away. “Just…so beautiful.”

  Big Man chuckles in agreement beside him.

  What are you going to do to me? I want to say. But I already know.

  “Here.” Leader digs something up from a back pocket. He tosses it to Big Man. I catch a glimpse of purple through the air. “Put it on her. Make the whore look like a woman, at least.”

  Big Man’s hand catches my neck. I choke and sputter. He holds me in place for a second, affixing the wig to my head. Then he stands back, satisfied.

  I drop my head forward and gasp for breath. Tears blur my vision. Purple strands fall into my eyes.

  “Now.” Leader drags a chair across the floor. The grinding sound is awful.

  He stops beside me, sits down, and crosses his legs. He regards me, tapping one foot on the ground.

  Suddenly, he shakes his head. “Something is still wrong,” he says to his companion. He lifts a finger. “Oh. I know.” He makes a crude symbol with his fingers, evoking another laugh from Big Man.

  I glare at them both, hatred and loathing pulsing through my veins beneath the despair.

  “The robe,” he tells me. “It’s hiding your wonderful breasts.”

  In one swift move, Big Man pulls the sash of my cotton robe free. The two sides fall open. Cold air pierces my skin, making me feel horribly exposed.

  “Ah,” leader says. “That’s much better.”

  I press my legs together, crossing them, twisting to the side, trying to shy away. I’d let them have my body if I could just retreat. But something is wrong. I can’t find the mental capacity to do that anymore.

  “Comfortable?” he asks me.

  I glare at him. “What?”

  “Are. You. Comfortable?” He repeats. He pulls back his sleeve and looks at his watch. “We’re going to be here for…oh another three hours or so.” He shares a knowing look with Big man. “And that is when our fun begins.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  No. No. No.

  I will not succumb. I will not succumb. I will not succumb.

  Over and over, I tell myself that. I repeat that mantra as I feel the crude hungry eyes of the two men on me.

  I can’t retreat. But they’re not doing anything to me now. Just waiting. Waiting for the illusions to take hold.

  “LET ME GO!” I scream. I begin to pant, to gasp, then to hyperventilate.

  The men look at each other and snigger.

  My breathing slows. “Please,” I beg. “Please. Please, don’t do this.”

  I’m met only with silence.

  “LET ME GO!” I scream again. I thrash against the handcuffs. They rattle against the metal pipes.

  Big Man stands. “Do you want me to shut her up?”

  Leader considers the option. Then he shakes his head.

  “No. Let her get it all out. It’ll make the end so much sweeter.”

  Spontaneously, I start to cry.

  Eventually, my tears dry out. I’m left hanging there,
raw, dry, exhausted, trembling with fear and horrible anticipation of the oncoming visions.

  I’ve lost track of time. Shit! I’ve lost track of time! I start to panic. I’m hyperventilating again. I can’t keep track of time, and so I don’t know when I’ll lose control next. It’s terrifying.

  Then I remember the anchor. My hair. My hair. I do all I can to focus exactly on that, to feel the cold around my scalp, to concentrate on the jarring absence.

  The room morphs.

  It doesn’t morph in an ominous or scary way. It morphs in a nice way. The walls ebb away like flowing water. The darkness disappears. In its place comes light. Sweet, glorious light that surrounds me and makes me feel whole.

  Trees. Trees come into sight. Wonderful, ancient evergreens full of green branches. I’m in the woods of Jeremy’s mansion. I’m—

  No. I shake my head and scream. The back of my head, raw and tender, rubs against the rough concrete wall. No, I’m back in the dungeon, about to be raped by these two hideous men—

  Men? I blink. What men? I’m surrounded by trees and nature and light and sunshine. But my arms—something’s wrong with my arms. I can’t move them. They’re caught in a branch above me. I can’t shake free.

  But somehow, I don’t mind. It feels wonderful to just sway in the breeze. The salty sea air tickles my skin. I want to laugh in delight.

  And, why wouldn’t I? Everything is so wonderful. Clean. Pristine. I take a deep breath, loving the expanse of pure, unpolluted air in my lungs, then throw my head back and laugh.

  I feel a presence beside me. I open my eyes—and my heart skips a beat when I see Jeremy there. He smiles sweetly as he reaches up and frees my hands. “Just caught in a tangle of branches,” he tells me.

  I drop down. I falter, a little bit, and nearly fall. A weakness pervades my body. Why? From what source? How come?

  And then I see Jeremy again, and I have my answer: I am love-drunk.

  I smile in a silly way.

  I run to him and throw my arms around his shoulders. He touches me in a strange way, one hand grabbing my ass, the other pressing right into my pussy. But somehow, it doesn’t feel wrong, but right. And oh so wonderful.

  “Lilly,” he says. “We’re going to fuck now.”

  I bite my lip, almost bursting with excitement. So what if there was no build up? This is what I want.

  “Lie down,” he tells me.

  “What, here?” I ask. “Right in the forest? Why don’t we go back to our room—“

  “Yes, here,” he interrupts cruelly. “You’re going to lie down and fuck me right here, Lilly.”

  “Well, if you’re going to be like that,” I say, crossing my arms. “Then no. I’m not going to do it.”

  “Lilly…” he looks at me with menacing eyes. “You’ve got no choice.”

  And then he surges forward and grabs me. I scream and struggle as he knocks me down and pins me to the ground.

  His breathing is ragged. Determined. He tears at my robe, ripping it open with no remorse—

  Wait. Robe? Why am I wearing a robe?

  The thought has no time to expand itself as the struggle continues. I fight against him, twisting this way and that, trying to get myself free.

  “Jeremy, stop!” I yell. “Jeremy, stop it! This isn’t you! This isn’t—“

  My words are swallowed as my mouth is sealed by his angry lips. His tongue darts into my mouth in a crass, cavalier way. I shake my head, trying to break free. Why is he kissing me like this? He never kisses me like this. It’s so… sloppy.

  I gasp for air when he lifts his head. “Jeremy, what’s gotten into you?” I demand. “Jeremy, what the hell—“

  “You know, girly,” he interrupts, shifting all his weight on top of me. He’s so much heavier than I remember. “I wish you would stop calling me that.”

  And then he surges down again and seals my lips, but I keep my teeth clenched tight, denying him access. He growls and grabs me by the throat. I pucker up and gasp. His hand goes between my legs and I gasp again. He’s being so crude, and the pain—the pain won’t stop.

  I twist my head to the side, still fighting against him. My hair goes into my mouth when I take an ill-advised breath, and then—

  Oh God. My hair. My hair!

  The illusion shatters and for a glimmer of a moment, I see Big Man raging above me, one hand yanking his trousers down to reveal thick, hairy, disgusting legs, along with a pair of stained white undies…

  I scream and scream and scream as he pounds into me. But all I hear filling my ears is Jeremy Stonehart’s cold, dispassionate laughter.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Another drink is brought to my lips. Another cold, long straw.

  I sip, and feel my grip on myself strengthen. I don’t know how long I’ve been gone this time. All I know is the horrible pain that festers through my insides.

  It starts between my legs and consumes the rest of my body like a throbbing, living thing.

  I drink more. I blink. Red. All I see is red. Why is my vision stained red?

  More of the liquid, more of the fluid. That precious, life-giving nectar. It emboldens me. Strengthens me. I feel it flow past my tongue, down my throat, spread through my insides. With it, the pain lessens. It becomes less awful, and more… tolerable.

  I open my eyes, looking past the haze of red. Even that is fading with every sip. Control returns to my limbs. On instinct, I bring one hand up and run it through my hair.

  Stubble. Short, prickly stubble.

  And on that realization, the world crashes into me. I see where I am, what state I’m in, and why.

  I’m outside on a… on a balcony. The same one as before? No. I look around. This one’s different. It’s more expansive, for one. For two…

  For two, I catch the source of the red. Flames. Dancing flames, from gas torches placed all around the perimeter. I focus on them as the final bits of my dementia drain away.

  It’s night. I see the stars above me. The flames make the shadows flicker and twist along the floor.

  “Good, good,” Esteban’s voice. “You’ve come back to us now.”

  Fear seizes my insides and I jerk up. I expect to be restrained in some way. But I am not. I grip the armrests of my chair and push up—

  “Shh, shh, relax,” Esteban says. His hands come on my shoulders, and he gently eases me back. I find myself accepting the movement much too easily.

  I tear my eyes away from the flames and look at him. Then I look past him, and see that we are alone on this rooftop.

  A rooftop. That’s what it is. Not a balcony. A rooftop!

  “Wine?” Esteban asks. “I dare say I am a connoisseur of fine spirits. And I do pride myself on my collection. I’ve brought together rare vintages from all over the world. It’s not the largest, most certainly. But I do try to make it one of the best.”

  “Why?” I spit at him. “Do you want to get me drunk so you can rape me, too?” I bring my arms around myself and huddle in my robe, suddenly cold.

  “Ah,” Esteban says. He rises and moves away. I watch as he walks to the railing and looks out over his darkened estate. “Lilly. Miss Ryder, if you prefer? Let me assure you that you are in no danger of that from me. Much like with my wines, I have distinguished tastes in bodies. And while I’m sure, you were lovely enough at some point—I saw you when Mr. Stonehart introduced us, after all—people of your gender hold no appeal to me.”

  I narrow my eyes at his back. He’s gay?

  “And what my men have put you through is unfortunate,” he continues. “But you see, Miss Ryder, certain appetites must be appeased. It is just the seven of us on this island. If I did not offer you to my men, well,” he chuckles, “they would soon get restless. And trust me. This way is the lesser of two evils, for you.”

  I scoff to show him what I think, but it’s all a façade. In truth, I don’t think I can channel the strength to withstand abuse at the hands of his guards.

  “What do you want?”
I ask him softly. It’s almost a plea. “Why am I your prisoner?”

  He takes a deep breath. “You smell that?” he asks. “The scent of the sea. Growing up inland, as a little boy, I always dreamed of having a house by the sea.

  “It still appeals to me, you know. It still invigorates me. Being here, I’m reminded of all that I’ve lost, of all that was taken away from me—by your Mr. Stonehart.”

  He turns around. For the first time since I was kidnapped, Esteban looks calm. Mellow, even. Thoughtful and hypnotic, in a way.

  “Hugh—Mr. Blackthorne—assured me that you would be an invaluable bargaining chip for me to claim back what I lost.” He purses his lips. “After all this time, however, I’m beginning to think otherwise.”

  Fear seizes my insides.

  “Jeremy,” I say quickly. “He knows?”

  “Oh, yes,” Esteban nods. “Your Jeremy knows. He knows quite well what we want, who we hold, and what is being done to you. Sadly, he seems quite resolved—unyielding, even—in his position.”

  “Good,” I sneer. My proclamation is a complete act. On the inside, I feel hollow and broken. Like there’s nothing left. If Jeremy knows what’s being done to me, and he still doesn’t come…

  But, why would he? How could he? The demands I remember being made when they shot the video of me swallowing those poison pills were ludicrous. There’s no way Jeremy would accept.

  Except… I had hoped, prayed, wished, that maybe I meant enough to him that he would.

  It seems I was wrong.

  Despair swells up and all but swallows me whole.

  “Good?” Ethan turns back and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Tell me. How is all of this good, Miss Ryder? I was assured that you were an asset valuable enough to be a prime bargaining chip. I was told of Mr. Stonehart’s devotion to you. His obsession for you. I was led to believe he would do anything to get you back.

  “Kind of,” he says softly, “how I would do anything to get Dextran back.”

  “Let me talk to him then,” I beg. “I can convince him. I’m sure of it! If that’s all you want…”