by Becca Little
“That’s it.” I slammed the tablet on my desk and then picked it up again, hurling it across the room. It shattered when it hit the wall. “I’m ending this.”
As my helicopter soared towards the Bradford Institute, my anger grew. There were a few things he had left out that were damaging, which meant he could still do a follow up article and lay down more claims. The worst part of the article was his accusations of abuse. Our grandfather’s philosophy was not abuse. It was a loving relationship between those who consented to it. Even those that didn’t have a purist mentality like I did were not abusing the young women who submitted to them. In Victorian times, there were a few forced marriages that may have resulted in a less than favorable situation for some of the young wives, but those were the times. The methods had evolved, just as our society had evolved. Charles understood that. He just didn’t give a fuck.
“Charles!” I yelled as I pushed past a couple of guards.
“He’s not seeing visitors.” Hernandez, the guard I had punched the last time I was at the Bradford Institute blocked my path.
“Oh, you still work here.” I shook my head back and forth. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Sloane…” I heard Charles’ voice from behind Hernandez. “Come to thank me for finally telling the truth about our family.”
“Truth?” I pushed Hernandez to the side. “You are a fucking liar!”
“Let’s go upstairs.” Charles beckoned me. “Stay back, Hernandez.”
I followed him upstairs with my anger still boiling. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to do even more than that. I wanted to write a response to his article in his blood while using his head as a footstool. My fists tightened and I tried to control myself. I was going to have to appease Charles in some capacity because I certainly couldn’t kill him. When we got to the top of the stairs, Charles turned towards me and without warning his foot extended out. I was a few steps below him, so the edge of his boot caught me under the jaw. I stumbled backwards and he lifted himself, using the handrail, sending me flying down the stairs with a second kick. The minute I hit the ground, several guards were on top of me. They punched and kicked me until I could taste blood in my mouth and it felt like darkness was closing in. Hernandez finally hauled me to my feet and locked my arms behind my back as Charles approached.
“You’ll take this beating, Sloane. You’ll swallow your pride, get back on your fancy helicopter, and you’ll fly away.” Charles smiled and nodded.
“Why…the fuck.” I spat out blood. “Would I do that?”
“Because that article was just the beginning. Your balls belong to me, Sloane. I’ll admit, I felt like you got one over on me in the beginning. I felt like you were in control. I lashed out with what I knew of the situation, and I was wrong. This time, I stuck to the facts.” Charles chuckled.
“It was lies!” I felt my jaw shake from the pain as I tried to speak.
“It was a perception, Sloane. Perception is reality. Nothing I said was untrue to the right audience. Some will shrug it off, but consider it my last warning. Tomorrow, you’re going to walk into your board room—well maybe not tomorrow.” Charles stepped forward and punched me in the stomach. “You might still be in the hospital. When you recover, you’re going to walk into your board room and you’re going to tell them you’ve changed your mind about the Bradford Institute. You’re going to tell them it was a mistake and the article reminded you that I’m a good person trying to do good work. Then, you’re going to finance the expansion of the Bradford Institute. Chicago, New York, Boston, etcetera…etcetera…eventually we’ll go international.”
“You’re out of your damn mind.” I winced with pain and spat blood again.
“I know.” He smiled. “I’m a Bradford. I just forgot who I was. I remember now. My name has power and a few words from my mouth can bring down your whole empire. Think about all those employees you’ll put out of work when the company goes under. Is the sanctity of those aged beliefs in our grandfather’s notebooks worth it? Is the purity of a few criminals worth all of that? So, what if they want to trade their bodies to wealthy men to avoid punishment? They were probably going to trade their cunts for something less valuable on the streets anyway.”
“What about the ones that don’t want to trade?” I looked back at Hernandez. “What about the ones your guards decide they want to hurt?”
“I can assure you that was a misunderstanding. Hernandez has told me his side of the story, and frankly, I believe him over the criminal whore you took home with you.” Charles shrugged. “What you believe is up to you.”
“This isn’t over.” I snarled at Charles.
“Oh, but it is.” He punched me in the stomach again. “Get rid of him.”
Darkness. Something hit me from behind and I assumed it was Hernandez. I was vaguely aware of being carried after I slumped to the ground. I went in and out of consciousness for a while. When my vision finally cleared and I gained control of my thoughts I was on my helicopter. I rolled to the side and tried to stand. My legs were weak. My shirt was covered in blood and my suit jacket was torn. Everything hurt from my violent trip down the flight of stairs and the beating I got from the guards. My abdomen which had been used as a punching bag for Charles ached worst of all. I could see the city in the distance. My pilot looked back at me with concern on his face.
“Mr. Bradford.” He pulled my earphones down off my ear. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No…” I shook my head quickly and my neck throbbed. “Just take me home.”
‘Are you sure? You are in pretty bad shape.” His face was etched with concern.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine…” I grimaced and hoped that was true.
Chapter 23 — Bianca
Ms. Veronica already had her stuff packed when Daddy’s helicopter approached. She was so happy and excited about the change I made to the credit card statement that she was eager to get home instead of nervous about it. We hugged goodbye and she slung her bag over her shoulder. I ran up to my room and closed the door when the helicopter got closer. The downstairs had large windows and I didn’t want Daddy to see me out of my room. I normally heard his voice when he entered the house, but all I heard downstairs was some sort of commotion when the door opened. I heard Ms. Veronica’s voice and it sounded alarmed. A few seconds later, I heard hurried footsteps on the stairs. They were too small to be Daddy’s and I got a little concerned. They moved down the hallway at a quick pace, opening my door immediately.
“Bianca…” Ms. Veronica’s mouth was open in shock. “Something happened to your Daddy.”
“What?” I followed her towards the stairs.
“I don’t know. He’s hurt.” She started walking down the stairs quickly and I followed, almost tripping myself as I hurried.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The front door was open and the helicopter pilot was standing awkwardly in the living room with a grim look on his face. There were several drops of blood leading from the front door to the sofa. I turned the corner so I could see the front of the couch and I saw my Daddy laying back on it. He had dried blood around his face, nose, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. His shirt and his suit were both covered in blood. He looked weak and it was clear from his ashen colored face that he had lost a decent amount of blood. Ms. Veronica ran over and knelt beside him. I followed her and took his hand as I knelt.
“What happened?” I looked at him and then at his pilot.
“He needs to go to the hospital.” Ms. Veronica swallowed and stood. “Why did you bring him here?”
“He wanted to come here.” The pilot shrugged. “I tried to take him to the hospital, but he refused.”
“I’m fine.” Daddy’s good eye opened and he leaned up, grimacing as he put pressure on his joints.
“What the hell happened?” Ms. Veronica asked the same question I did.
“It was Charles.” He drew his breath and forced out words.
“If Charles Bradford did th
is to you, then he better be dead.” Ms. Veronica’s words were angry as she heard the name of the culprit.
“I wish…” Daddy replied. “He kicked me down a flight of stairs and then the guards at the Bradford Institute all helped him finish the job.”
“I’m calling Victor.” Ms. Veronica dug into her bag until she found her phone and started dialing.
I really didn’t know what to do, but I wanted to help. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed all the first aid stuff I could find as well as a washcloth that I soaked in warm water. I rushed back to Daddy’s side and started cleaning the blood off his face. He grimaced and groaned as I did, but I was able to remove most of it before I had to go get a new washcloth. It seemed like most of the blood had come from his mouth and his nose. I was worried about internal bleeding, but when I got him to open his mouth, I saw red around his gums and a large gash inside his cheek. Ms. Veronica returned and held his hand as I started pouring hydrogen peroxide on the open wounds. Thankfully, they were not bad enough to need stitches or anything like that. His eye was another story altogether, but I did my best to clean the outer skin.
“Victor is on his way.” Ms. Veronica looked up at the pilot. “You don’t have to stay…”
“Please tell Mr. Bradford that I’m available whenever he needs me.” The pilot looked at Daddy one more time before leaving.
“Help me get his jacket and his shirt off.” I looked over at Ms. Veronica.
We started lifting him up and I could tell he was in a lot of pain. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I needed to see what his upper torso looked like underneath his shirt. If there were any signs of bleeding, I would have to insist on a trip to the hospital the minute Ms. Veronica’s Daddy arrived. We got the clothes peeled off and I saw numerous swollen areas, some of which had already started to bruise. I started using the cloth to wash away the debris left behind from what I assumed was his trip down the stairs. There wasn’t much else I could do after that other than try to make him comfortable. I heard a helicopter approaching and I hoped it was Victor. It was a little louder than the one Daddy rode in, so I was sure of it when it got closer. It landed and a few seconds later, I saw a man with salt and pepper black hair walk into the house. He had a black bag in his right hand.
“Charles did this?” He came over and put his finger to Daddy’s neck.
“Yeah…” Daddy sighed and grimaced. “Good to see you again, Victor.”
“I’m Victor Davenport.” He turned towards me and extended a hand.
“Bianca Adams. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” I took his hand and shook. He immediately went back to pressing on Daddy’s wounds. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, I was a medic in the Army though.” He pulled a stethoscope from his bag and pressed it on Daddy’s chest in a few places before removing it from his ears.
“What’s the verdict?” Daddy grimaced as a finger pressed his eye. “Ow!”
“You’ll recover. You should probably go to the hospital, but I know you’re a stubborn son of a bitch like your father. If you rest for a couple of days, you should be able to get up and move around again. You have a couple of broken ribs for sure, and you might need some dental work. Your eye should heal. Veronica can stay here if you need her.” He looked over at Ms. Veronica who nodded in confirmation.
“I can handle it.” I interjected, even though I wasn’t sure of it.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine in Bianca’s hands.” Daddy smiled and nodded—at least he did have faith in me.
“I have an old bottle of pain pills that aren’t expired. The doctor gave them to me for my back, but I only took a couple. I’ll leave them.” He reached into his bag and put the pills on the table.
“Thank you.” Daddy tried to sit up, but fell back against the sofa.
“Rest…” Victor said in a firm tone. “Veronica, are you ready to go?”
“Yep.” She stood up and gathered her stuff.
“Let me know if anything changes.” Victor nodded to me and they headed towards the door.
I went to the kitchen and fixed a glass of water, returning and offering it to him. He took it and sipped, grimacing when the water hit the wounds inside of his mouth. I took a couple of pain pills from the bottle and handed them to him as well. He looked at them a couple of times as if he was considering whether it was a good idea, but finally tossed them in his mouth and swallowed them with another painful sip of water. As I sat on the edge of the couch and looked at him, I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible. If I hadn’t been locked up in the Bradford Institute, he would have never gone there and saw what was happening. It was a noble cause to try and shut it down, especially if other young women were getting victimized by the guards, but I couldn’t help feeling sick to my stomach about the whole thing.
“When these kick in, can you help me to bed?” He asked in a tired voice.
“Absolutely.” I nodded and squeezed his hand.
I hoped I could do that. He was a lot bigger than me and if he couldn’t put much weight on his legs, then I wasn’t sure I could keep him steady. He lay without moving for several minutes and then started to sit up. I hopped up and helped him until he was in a sitting position. He rested there for a few minutes before motioning for me to help again. By sheer determination and every muscle in my small frame, he managed to stand. He wobbled in place for a minute and then nodded that he was okay. We started up the stairs, taking it one step at a time. He leaned forward the whole time so that I wouldn’t fall back, so I just did my best to keep his feet moving and helped support the side that wasn’t against the rail. By the time we got to the top of the stairs, I felt like I had been beaten as bad as him. My muscles were sore and cramped, but I still pushed on towards his bedroom.
“We’re here…” I opened his door.
I had never seen the inside of his bedroom before. It was a lot like the one I stayed in the first night, but bigger. He had several suits of armor in his room and a coat-of-arms on the wall that I assumed was the Bradford family crest. We crossed the distance between the door and his bed carefully. When he hit the bed, he rolled over on his back and took a deep breath. His breath rattled and he clutched his side. Even though I was supposed to stay in my room, I couldn’t imagine leaving him. I pulled his shoes off and started removing his pants. He didn’t object and they were quickly deposited on the floor. Even in his weakened state, he had a powerful frame. I sat on the side of the bed for a few minutes, just trying to build up the courage to ask permission to stay with him.
“Daddy…” My words were soft and if he was already asleep, I wasn’t going to wake him.
“Yes?” He opened his good eye.
“Can I sleep in here with you tonight? I want to be here if you need anything during the night.” I looked over at him.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I would like that.”
I crawled into his arms and snuggled against his chest, taking care not to lay on anything that looked painful. He put an arm around me and squeezed me tight for a second. It felt amazing to be in his arms, even under the circumstances. I didn’t want to be anywhere else, ever again. I felt like I belonged there. We stayed snuggled up for a while until he went to sleep. Once he was asleep, he moved around a bit in his sleep, so I slid a couple of inches away and held his hand. I was worried, even when I went to sleep. Every motion woke me throughout the night and I constantly checked to make sure he was okay. I hated Charles for what he had done to my Daddy.
Chapter 24 — Sloane
Two days passed and Bianca never left my side. She brought me my laptop, my phone, and I turned the bedroom into my new office. Bradford International didn’t stop because I was hurt. I kept the details of my injuries a secret and told them I was sick. The swelling in my eye was going down and it only hurt when I shifted. Bianca brought my meals to me and did her very best to take care of me. The roles we had fallen into got reversed. She was the one taking care of me and I was the prisoner. She stayed curled up n
ext to me or snuggled in my arms when I slept, and I struggled with my desire to make her mine. She was so beautiful and the way she took care of me felt like it came from a place of love rather than obligation. I wanted her in every way. I closed my laptop when I heard her approaching, looking towards the doorway. She walked in with a glass of whiskey that was much fuller than I normally made them.
“I figured you could probably use this since you didn’t want the pain pills today.” She smiled and handed it to me.
“Thank you, that is a great idea. I’m not a fan of pain pills.” I took the drink and sipped it. “But this will definitely help.”
“Do you need anything else?” She asked.
“Just your company.” I patted the bed and she smiled as she crawled in next to me.
“I was really worried.” She looked up at me. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
“You’d probably go to prison since your rehabilitation isn’t over.” I smiled, even though it hurt.
“Taking care of you isn’t rehabilitation?” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll go to my room then.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” I held her tight as she pretended to try and pull away. “Not for a long time…”
“Eight months…” She nodded.
“What if I want to keep you longer.” I reached down and tilted her head up towards me.