by Amo Jones
“It’s because it’s her first time.” Tripp’s hands glide skillfully up my inner thighs until his body is propped over mine.
I tilt my head and smirk. “I bet you’re real pretty.” I laugh—no, giggle—in the most unattractive way possible.
He slams his hand down over my lips and narrows his eyes. “I’m a lot of things, pet, but pretty ain’t one of them.”
I smirk, my cheeks pressing against his rough grip. Drawing my tongue out, I lick the palm of his hand. Each muscle in his body tenses. I look into his bleak eyes that hold fire and evil. Blurry shadows dance over my vision and his head tilts to study me. His hardness presses against my clit and I groan, closing my eyes.
“Make it go away,” I breathe, my hands beginning to shake at the foreign feeling.
He pauses, and I peek up at him from under my heavy lids. Circling his groin into me, I let out a breathy moan, my hands finding the back of his neck.
“Fuck,” he whispers before circling again.
“That, keep doing that…” I rasp out, my breath catching from the pleasure.
Tingles dance over my clit and my core contracts. I burst into flames and heat flushes through me in warm waves, my body jerking from the aftershocks. Coming down from my orgasm, I thought it would put my neediness to sleep; it didn’t.
“Fuck,” he mutters again, slowly pushing me away and stepping back.
I prop up onto my elbows as he sinks deeper into the shadows. Confused, I look toward the left, only to find Joker walking in with chains hurled in his arms.
Swallowing, I point to what he’s holding. “What’s that?”
“This?” I can hear the menace in his tone.
I shake my head. “You don’t…”
“Shut up,” Viking says, pulling me up by my elbow. “You see that booth over there, the one with the red light beeping on the top of the mirrored glass?”
Nodding, I answer, “Yes.”
“Kurr and the priest are sitting behind that glass, Millie. Do you know what that means?” He reaches out and takes the heavy chains off Joker.
“What?” I whisper.
He steps up to me, taking my wrists in his hands and pulling them up above my head. “That means we can’t hold back.” The heavy chains pull, binding my wrists together and he pushes me back down to my knees. “In other words…” he says, snapping my underwear off. Joker laughs, walking towards us with a whip-like stick clutched in his hand. “You’re in for a long night.”
MILLIE
A thousand bruises press into my skin as my eyes slowly crack open, finding myself once again on the cold concrete floor I have become accustomed to.
The cell door squeaks open and I lift my head off the blue blanket.
“Up.” Viking comes over to where I am and squeezes my arm to help me to my feet.
I flinch away from him, standing on my own. “I don’t need your help.” My voice is unrecognizably dead. A wire that was once live inside of me has now short-circuited and I know automatically that there will be no coming back from where I am now. I feel nothing.
He laughs, stepping back. “Suits me.”
I walk past him towards the door and throw my head over my bruised shoulders. “You going to lead the way?”
He follows behind and steps in front of me, my body flinching as memories from last night bombard my brain. He slams the cell door closed, all while keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Move.”
Running my hands up and down my bare arms, I follow him down the dark damp hallway before coming to the stairs. Following him closely, he leads me up the stairs, out the front door, and over to the building that sits beside the house and dungeon. Taking my arm, he continues to lead me towards a door and heavy metal stairs that go down to the podium and the booths. Sick little setup this place has. Once we hit the bottom of the stairs, he steps through a back door that leads down a long narrow hallway. He pauses at the entryway to the stage we were on last night, memories of what happened flashing through my brain. I feel nothing.
Handing me a fresh set of wings, he turns my body towards a side room and shoves me inside. Pointing to the chair, he says, “Get dressed. You have ten minutes.” He stands there, his arms crossed in front of him.
I stare blankly. “Can you get out?”
I cringe at how easy it is for me to give him lip. Maybe this is who I was all along and the nun in me was just masking my true self. Melissa did always say that. Melissa. A ball of pain forms in my throat at the thought of my crazy sister. No, I can’t think of her. If I think about Melissa, I’ll lose it. Moving past my cold dead feelings, I squash what ones I have left, the ones that were reserved for my sister, and push my shoulders back, snatching the clothes off the chair. The door opens and then closes. Viking whips his head towards the sound, his shoulders slumping as he curses out a sigh of relief.
“Get out. I’ll take it from here,” Tripp orders, walking towards me.
Viking looks at me one last time and winks before pushing off the door. “Good luck, nun.” I fight the urge to flip him off. I’m as good as dead anyway and I’ve lost the will to survive.
Tripp takes Viking’s place and leans on the door frame, his massive arms crossing in front of his tight chest. “Hurry up.”
My eyes falter as I pick up the clothes again and fluff them out in front of me. I look back up to Tripp and lock my eyes onto his until I want to crawl inside of a hole and never return. Slipping off the clothes from last night, I let them drop to my ankles and his eyes break away from mine, running all over my body. Every inch of his gaze violates me on all levels, levels that not even the last seven days of the other guys touching me could compare to. My jaw clenches as I squeeze the tight little strapless dress up my body.
When I slip into the heels that were with them, I walk towards Tripp, maintaining our stare down. Once my chest is flush against his stomach—because that’s where I reach him, even with 4-inch heels on—I tilt my head. “If I ever get the chance to live a free life again, I swear on all the holy crosses I have ever prayed on that I will find you, and I will kill you. If it’s the last fucking thing I do.”
I can’t see behind his mask, but the way his eyes glint tells me he’s smirking. His hand grips around my wrist. “You better hope you kill me the first chance you get. Because you won’t get another chance, and if I get my hands on you, I’ll be sure to strip any last dignity you ever thought you had left before sending your dismembered body to each person in your family.”
I pause, my eyes glazing over briefly.
He shoves me forward. “Walk, pet. Fucking go with whatever is happening too, don’t try to fight it. Are we clear?”
I look up at him, my lip curling in disgust. “Crystal.”
TRIPP
I can’t have her, but I can’t have Kurr knowing that she could just well be my only weakness. All the years I put into gaining an unbreakable steel of trust would shatter. I have to give her something that will make her second-guess coming after me if she did. I know she loves her sister Melissa. I could see it in her eyes when I said that. Every single instinct I have is roaring at me to pick her up and take her away. She has no idea what is really held behind this door or what she is mixed up in, but I do. Though I wasn’t expecting unwanted nudges to make their way inside of me whenever I touched her. Each step she takes towards the end of the corridor, I have the urge to rip her back and take her away from all the fucked-up shit in this life.
MILLIE
We reach the end of the long mirrored corridor. Tripp pauses from behind me as my hand finds the doorknob. The cold metal awakens my lifeless hand. The heat I feel radiating from him collides into my back and I tilt my head over my shoulders to find him looking down at me with the same predatory gaze, but maybe a glint of something else.
I figure I may as well start with my questions again. “Why me?”
After a few moments of silence, I take it he’s not going to answer me, so I twist the door handle. Just as I’m about
to pull it open, his hand finds my arm and a surge of electrical current rushes from him to me. That spark has been there since the first time he laid his dead, emotionless eyes on me. Only, it’s never touched me the way it is right now.
“I need you to promise me you won’t try to run when they take you from here.”
“What?” I question, and just when I’m about to ask him more questions, the door is yanked open in front of my face and he pushes me forward into the same dark room from last night, the same stage and podium. Chills break out over my skin. It’s empty. The same spotlight emits directly in front, blinding me instantly. I raise my hand to cover my forehead as my legs slowly inch forward and down toward the end of the stage. I squint my eyes in a poor attempt at trying to focus on the setting and environment, but I fail miserably. A loudspeaker beeps before a woman’s voice huskily comes through and sends shivers down my spine.
“Next we have Millie Hart…” she begins, and I pause, thinking over what she just said. Next? As in there was someone before me?
“She comes all in one piece with her virginity intact. Bidding starts at 500,000.”
I swallow down the bile that has begun to rise up my throat, but my shoulders slack in defeat and my head hangs. I keep my eyes pinned to the floor. When an echoing “beep” sounds out, I raise my head to find a single red light flash above one of the mirrored window booths. I swing around, my eyes racing around the room. I notice that there are lights pressed into the wall of each booth. Spinning around slowly, I count ten mirrored windows. I count ten booths.
Another red light illuminates from a different booth and the voice over the speakers comes through again, “800,000.”
Another beep pierces through the silent room and another tear drops from my eye.
Beep.
“One Million.”
Beep.
“One point five.”
Beep.
Her voice dies out.
My breathing shallows, and the pulsing of my blood rushing through one single vein in my body pounds through my ears. I lose myself in my thoughts, the cold empty walls inside my brain comforting me. The front doors that sit below the booths swing open as both Tripp and Viking walk directly towards me. My heart hasn’t just broken; my soul has shattered too. Every inch of who I was and what I stood for has been drawn out of me until I’m nothing but a shell. I’m merely a form of bones, organs, and blood which is being contained by skin. I have nothing. I feel nothing. Arms wrap around my waist as they guide me down the steps and towards the front of the stage. Once we’re walking down the bright corridor, I look up at Tripp. His finely chiseled jaw line is peeking out from under the mask and I scan the intricate tattoos that are inked into his skin.
“What happened?” I ask.
He keeps his head focused to the front. “You were just sold.”
“To whom?” I probe.
He pauses and I see his jaw clenching from beneath the rim of his mask. “Japanese.”
My breathing picks up to an erratic rate as the final wall in my mind shuts.
Kurr walked down into the lab where a small baby was crying. He pushed open the doors and found Courtney fiddling around with syringes and Bunsen burners while her foot furiously rocked the carriage back and forth.
“Why is he in here? Why haven’t you got one of the staff to mind him?”
“What?” Courtney spat. “Like how you minded my other son?”
Kurr chuckled, pushing his hand into his pocket before throwing his other up to her neck. He clenched down on it roughly until her air pipe cracked under his touch. “I told you, you play nice here and the kid will live.” Courtney jerked her face out of Kurr’s grip, tired of his controlling ways but knowing she had no way to escape him. She was bound here for good if she wanted her son to live. Beast. Beast looked so much like Luce. When she looked down at the baby she had in the carriage, the baby her and Kurr produced because of his manipulated sexual propositions, she saw no resemblance to Kurr in him. He looked like her when she thought back to what she looked like as a baby. His blond hair standing in fine strands around his head. He had bright grey eyes that could match the deep Atlantic Ocean and dark, almost black eyelashes. He was, along with his brother, the most beautiful baby she had laid eyes on, and it didn’t matter who the father was.
MILLIE
My eyes remain shut as Tripp and Viking continue to lead me down the hallway. They pause at a bright green door before Tripp raises his knuckles and knocks three times. The door swings open and there in front of me is Kurr, the priest, and the rest of The 6. My feet remain lodged into the ground until someone shoves me from behind, so I step forward.
“Millie,” Kurr murmurs around the cigar that is hanging out of his mouth. He’s in his usual crisp suit and the burns on his face still look as angry as ever. The priest—who probably isn’t a priest, so I should start calling him by his real name, David—stands. My palms begin to sweat. Oh no, what if the Japanese sell me to him? My eyes drop to the floor as he continues his steps towards me. “You still witnessed something you should have never witnessed. I will find you, nun, and I will end every single bit of life that runs through that bony little body.”
His head tilts to the side and my fingers slowly float towards Tripp, who’s still standing near me. His hand flinches at our connection, and I yank it away from him quickly. I hate these people. Looking up at Tripp, I find his eyes already glaring down at me. Kurr’s voice disappears into the distance and the whole room begins to fall into tiny little pieces until it’s only me and Tripp. His heavy breathing matches mine as our gaze remains locked together, like he’s trying to put my broken puzzle back together, only he was the one who shattered it in the first place when he took me.
He steps backward, still watching me, and then drops down onto the chair that is closest to the door. His knee jiggles under the dark denim jeans he’s wearing, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Why is he staring at me in a way that has me thinking that maybe there’s a soul behind that mask?
As if in slow motion, Tripp breaks my eye contact and launches off his chair towards me just as a loud crack sounds out through the room and a heavy sting slams into my left cheek. I fly through the air until I land with a thud on the floor and the side of my head hits the ground.
“Answer me!” David roars from above me. I look behind him to see Viking, Joker, and Angel holding Tripp back. Kurr seems to think nothing of it; he’s too busy smirking smugly at me on the ground.
I touch my face, attempting to cover the hurt. I won’t cry. But I’ve never been hit like that before. The days of me shedding tears to these people are far gone. I won’t give them any more.
Rolling onto my back, I swallow, keeping my eyes locked on the ceiling. “What did you ask?” My throat clenches around the tightness. Turning my face to the side towards David, I look up at him and raise my eyebrows. “So? What—?”
The heavy sole of his shoe stomps down over my face and I’m out cold.
Tight fingers are clenched around my chin when my mind begins to resurface to reality. A light moan slips from my mouth in small, wheezy breaths.
“Millie? Wake up,” a deep voice commands from what feels like an inch away from me. “Millie? Hey!” He taps my cheek, and I twist my head away from the annoying motion. Everything slowly comes back to me—where I am, what’s happened—and my eyes snap open suddenly, my body swinging up and scooting backwards until my back connects to the wall. Tucking my legs under my arms and cradling them into myself, I scan the area to see the same room, but with everyone gone except for Tripp. I wince at the throbbing pain that’s pounding at the side of my head. Bringing my hand up, I rub my fingers over the bloody slit. “What happened?” I ask, dazed.
He curses under his breath before standing to his feet and walking towards me. Dropping back down to the ground, his hand grips my chin. Tripp tilts my head to face him, his eyes searching mine desperately. The perfect mix of thunder and sun all held in t
he flawless barrier of his blue depths. The grip he has on my chin loosens slightly as his eyes drop down to my mouth.
“What do you look like?” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
He curses again, releasing my chin and standing to his feet. “I’ve gotta fix you up before Hachiro Akimoto collects you.”
He turns towards the door and leaves abruptly, leaving my silent questions hanging in the balance. Exhaling, I rest my head against the wall and stare up at the ceiling. I’ve done everything right in life, so why am I getting punished? The door swings open again, snapping me out of my thoughts. Tripp walks back in with a little first aid kit and comes back to me, dropping down to his knees.
I bring my eyes to his. “I didn’t realize so many people wanted me dead.”
He pauses briefly before pulling out the pack of wet wipes. Ripping the packet open, his hand finds my chin again as he tilts my head to the side. The cool wipe touches my wound and I suck in a breath at the unwelcome sting.
“Why do you think everyone wants you dead?” he asks, dropping the now blood-soaked wipe on the floor. Picking up a new packet, he tears it open and cleans his hands.
I chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know.” The sarcasm is dripping off my tongue. “Maybe because I’ve been violated, manhandled, and—oh, that’s right—sold.”
I’m shaking my head at my own answer when his rough palm finds my chin again. I go to move my head to the side for him so he can get to my wound when he halts my movement, turning my face back to meet his. This time, his face is so close to mine I can see the intricate array of green flecks that light up his grey eyes. They’re fascinating and I find my head tilting to the side in amazement before I realize what I’m doing. His thumb is resting on the rim of my bottom lip casually. Sliding my tongue across my lip, his eyes narrow in on my movement.
He takes the needle and the thread out of the first aid kit. “You need stitches.”
“How many?” I ask faintly.
He looks back up at me, his hands pausing on his task. “About four or five.”