by M. S. Willis
She saw Xander’s body move, saw how he pulled against his own chains to realize what Patrick was about to do. He was discreet in his struggle, but Patrick noticed, smiling brighter to know that what he was about to do would destroy Hope and Xander both.
The guards moved about, dragging the woman’s body away like nothing more than meat. They mopped up the area, leaving it wet and clean, an empty canvas on which they could paint another portrait of pain, of misery and of malice.
Still staring at her, Patrick mused, “I was quite upset to hear you’d been caught, especially considering you promised me you’d return. I thought I’d chosen a professional by choosing you.” He stepped towards her and all Hope could see out of the door of her cage was his approaching feet. “I seem to remember that you promised to play.”
She stopped struggling to move away. Conserving her energy, she realized that while imprisoned by metal, she been rendered defenseless. When he reached her, he knelt down, peering in — a predator stalking his prey. “You have nothing to worry about. Unlike my guards, I don’t feel a need to spill blood immediately; especially considering the fact that it will take days for me to do all the things to you that I’ve been dreaming up since our last encounter.”
Hope looked at him, purposely blinking her eyes to appear dazed. Even though her muscles still protested movement, and the room still managed to spin around her, she could force herself to think clearly again.
“Clear the room!”
Hope couldn’t tell who was more surprised by his order, the guards or her. When the men didn’t move fast enough, Patrick stood, screaming his commands, the rage in his voice revealing the insanity contained within his psyche. He was mad, a man overcome by demons — led by evil into becoming evil, into personifying the ugly truths of life.
His men removed the living women from their cages, leaving behind the women who’d died, the black shade of mortality already having freed them from the prison their life had become. She was jealous that those women had been granted the one thing fate had refused her for so long.
The dead were left behind, while the two who remained were led to a room and shoved inside before the men closed the door again and locking it. When the men had left and all who remained in the room were Hope, Xander and Patrick, she shuddered, the silence amplifying the threat of the violence to come.
Patrick didn’t unlock her cage immediately, but rather, he walked casually away, stopping at a table across the room. Picking something up, he turned again to face Xander and tapped a syringe against his palm.
“The small amount of fluid in this is enough to kill a man.” He took a few steps towards Xander and the muscles across Hope’s back tensed, her fingernails digging into the palm with the growing fury inside her.
“I’ve been instructed to keep you alive — at least until we can obtain the information we seek. But, my partner and I disagree on whether anything you say would be beneficial or not.” He stopped. “My vote is ‘not’.”
Stepping slowly towards Xander again, Patrick smiled deviously. “Is anyone up for a game of chance?” He kneeled down in front of Xander, “This amount could be enough to kill you — or — it could leave you just at that edge to allow you to know what death is, but not quite grant it. I’d like to find out exactly where it will take you.”
The chains rattled on Xander’s chair and the wood groaned and cracked as he struggled to move. Hope’s head started to spin, but not from the chemicals floating freely in her body — no. It was fear, the same fear she felt for her sister, the same fear that meant she was losing something she valued. Even more debilitating than the drugs, her fear froze her muscles over her bones, made her throat swell to the point where it was difficult to breathe. She willed herself to calm down — to feel nothing. She needed the black space of violence and pain, she needed the clarity of having no thought inside her mind besides the idea that she was to kill or be killed.
Patrick chuckled, the sound hollow and heartless. Placing the syringe on the table beside Xander, he stood up again and moved to stand beside the metal table at the front of the room. The grating squeak of metal over metal resounded over the ceilings and walls — the sound scratching against Hope’s mind when Patrick swiveled the table so that it faced Xander.
Hope could see the muscles flex and constrict beneath his clothes. He worked at the chains, but couldn’t loosen them, no matter how desperately he fought.
“Even if I hadn’t known already that you weren’t truly intending to help my rebellion, I would have known by the way you fucked your whore. You see, it’s the face that gives it away, the expression that reveals the truth about whether a woman hates what is being done to her, or if she likes it.” His fingers idly played along the table, the tips walking along the cold metal surface as if they were a man’s legs.
“In order to dominate, to control and to have power over another person, you must take something from them that they would not willingly give. To make it even more meaningful, you must break their mind by perverting their emotions, making them feel pleasure when they detest you for having done it. You must turn something good within them into something horrible. There is a distinct look in their eye when that happens, a true break in their spirit that is magnificent to witness.” He smiled and Hope saw nothing but lunacy behind the green and blue of his eyes.
“I’d like to show you what that looks like.”
Patrick moved quickly around Xander to approach Hope’s cage. She remained completely still, hoping he would forgo caution because he believed she was too drugged to fight back. He knelt down to look at her. “I have a surprise for you — I kept her alive — your sister.”
Her heart raced in her chest, the resultant sound like thunder in her head. Tears welled at the back of her eyes and she flinched at his words. Not knowing their truth, she was stuck in a vise between fighting the bastard when he removed her or playing the role to ensure her sister would live.
“Sometimes, it takes patience and cunning to free yourself … it might be the only thing that saves you and your sister’s life …”
Maddy’s words again, disembodied and floating through Hope’s thoughts. She relaxed, breathing again to calm her body and her heart. The latch of the key in the lock made her jump.
Breathe in … breathe out …
She looked up at him, studied the cruel expression on his face, every movement of his body. She’d kill him, she’d sink to the same level of evil where he existed so that the ‘look’ he used to taunt Xander would be the last thing she saw in his eyes when he died. He pulled his gun again.
“You fight me, I kill you, and what I was about to do to you will be done to your sister instead. Considering you are identical, Xander will see what I want to show him regardless of which body is laid out across that table.”
Hope blinked her eyes, pretending that she couldn’t respond. It was obvious he knew she was no longer as helpless as when she’d first been drugged and caged, but she’d play the role anyway. At some point, Patrick would drop his guard and when that happened, Hope’s true darkness would come alive.
“Let’s go.” He grabbed the leash that was still secured around her neck. Bringing her face close to his, he said, “I’ll have to thank Xander for the chain once I’m done with you.” Yanking so hard, the bones at the back of her neck popped, he ripped her from the cage, replacing the gun in his pants, he grabbed her hair and dragged her to the table. She fought back feebly, pretending to not have the strength to protect herself. It was only half a ruse, she was not yet over the effect of the drug, but she had regained enough strength to know that in a few hours, she’d be in a position to end the bastard that held her.
“Bend over.” She forced her body over the table, the razor sharp and stinging cold once again attacking her skin. She grit her teeth against it, used the painful temperature to awaken her body more and chase away the remaining influence of chemicals from her blood. One by one, the familiar clicks of the shackles sounded as
they were closed over her ankles and wrists. Her chin fell into place at the notch cut into its edge. Her eyes aligned with Xander’s and she died to see the torment, the anger and the pain that turned the sapphire blue into something resembling an angry sea. The tendons at his neck stuck out and he continue to struggle against the chains. She closed her eyes, hardly able to bear watching the emotions he was feeling play over the expression on his face.
Opening her eyes again, she locked her gaze to his. She studied him so intently; she could see her reflection in his eyes. Patrick’s hands rubbed over her body, greedy fingers gripping at her skin.
“Oh yes, this is what I’ve been waiting for.”
His voice disgusted her and she kept her eyes locked to Xander, noticed how his expression went blank — lethal. She’d seen it before when she attempted Aaron’s life, knew that in his head, images of Patrick’s death played out.
No, my beautiful boy … it won’t be you that kills him … that privilege will be all mine …
She couldn’t speak to him, couldn’t do anything but look at him while Patrick readied himself to do revolting things to her body.
And then Patrick filled her; rutting against her like an animal, taking her body, but not her mind. Xander’s hands gripped the armrest of the seat, the metal chains at his wrists pressed against the skin so tight, it turned white around the links. He was struggling to break his constraints and Hope looked at him, tried to convey to him that it was okay, that she wasn’t hurt or broken by what the bastard did to her. She’d been trained, raped by her own network when she was young to ensure there wasn’t one thing a man could do to her that would break her. She never told Xander the true extent of her training, didn’t want him to know just how thorough her network had been. But now — now she wished she had told him because it could have eased the pain she saw swirling violently in his eyes.
“Scream for me, bitch.”
She watched Xander and her rage grew more intense, clouding logic, demanding that she fight against the bastard that was inside her. She knew she should play feeble, but she just couldn’t give the asshole what he wanted.
“Oh, please, stop.” There was no emotion in her tone and Patrick stopped suddenly when he heard her droll words.
Discreetly, Xander grimaced. It was a quick twitch across his face, but enough to make her realize she’d made a mistake. But she couldn’t help herself and she didn’t care what was being done to her, only what was being done to the people she loved.
After pulling out, Patrick shoved himself back in his pants and moved away from the table. She waited for him to hurt her, to force the reaction from her he wanted. Even if he were to slice her open, she decided she wouldn’t give it to him. It was a decision she would soon regret.
“You want to play games with me, bitch? An ominous warning hung on those words. “Let’s see if your sister would like to play as well.”
Hope’s fists clenched and the table shook when she pulled at the shackles binding her wrists and ankles. Fuck! She closed her eyes at how stupid she’d been to mock him.
“But first …” Patrick walked to where he was standing between Xander and Hope. Grabbing the needle from the side table where he’d placed it, he stabbed it into Xander’s neck, and pressed down on the plunger, shooting the deadly dose into Xander’s body.
“… I’ll kill your fucking boyfriend.”
Hope’s mouth opened and a sound she’d never known was possible escaped her. It was the sound of loss, of heartbreaking pain and absolute misery. It felt like her body, her mind and her heart shattered and her eyes looked into Xander’s, tears streaming down her cheeks when she watched the haze creep over his vision and his body, that had previously struggled against his chains, suddenly falling limp and loose against the chair.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A dark room now. Bursts of light when the door opens and closes. Food and water at Honor’s feet. “Lap it up like a dog,” they say.
He hasn’t come back … her angel. They took her far from where he could find her. Far, far … but he will find her. As soon as she finds her way out from the darkness and into the light, he’ll find her. And then he’ll take her — away from the monsters, from their malicious hands and angry eyes.
Her stomach growls but she won’t eat their food. They’re making her crazy like them, so she doesn’t eat or drink until her mouth is so dry, she has no choice but to swallow small bits. She hears the screaming still. The women he didn’t choose. Only the screaming, the walls are too thick for their other sounds and Honor thanks the walls for making the other sounds go away.
The door opens and she looks up, her eyes desperate to see his large form fill the doorway, to know that he’s found her, to know that he’ll take her.
A man enters — not him — not her angel. She cries silent tears.
He grabs her by the arm, his fingers digging into the skin that hangs loose from her muscle. She can’t fight and when he rips her to her feet, her knees fail, she falls, only to be ripped up again.
“I suggest you come with me. Your angel has a request.”
Pounding … her heart is suddenly pounding and her body shakes because it pounds so hard. Her lips hurt when they smile, he’s come for her, he’s come.
She walks out of the darkness, the light blinding her eyes, but she blinks back the tears. So many people, and the bad sounds return — the crying, the women getting sick. The monsters surround her, the room terrifyingly bright. She looks for him, looks at each face — not him, not him, not him.
He’s not there.
They lead her to the front. She looks up.
It’s not her angel.
It’s her mirror.
~ ~ ~
Hope … Xander tried to blink his eyes into focus, not comprehending that the woman they led out of the side room wasn’t the girl he’d just seen strapped to cross on a wall. The drug Patrick had injected coursed through his system and he felt his skin become sticky with heat and sweat. His arms and legs wouldn’t respond to his desire to move and his tongue swelled in his mouth and down his throat, making it feel like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes opened and closed, the woman, Hope — no, her sister — being dragged to the front of the room.
After Patrick had drugged him, he’d called on his men to assist him in removing Hope from the table and securing her into a heavy wood cross. When she was secured, they’d drugged her as well. He moved his head to look up, to see that her hazy eyes still widened when she watched her sister come into the room. Tears fell along her cheeks and her body trembled where it hung. Her chest beat out with exhaustive breath and he knew her heart raced against her chest. She struggled against the effects of what they’d given her, but she was failing to remain alert.
Eyes opening and closing, he slipped away for brief seconds, the images playing out before him appearing more like still photographs than moving objects. In and out, he fought to remain conscious even when he felt his body shutting down. His heart split apart and he struggled against the chains, felt weak and defeated when he could barely move even his finger. When the men had approached Hope, holding her sister between them, he looked up at Hope’s face, tears distorting his own vision to see what they were planning to do. When Hope finally comprehended what was being done, her expression fell — partly in response to the drugs and partly because she obviously knew that what was about to happen would destroy her.
Patrick approached Hope’s sister, leaning in close to her to whisper something in her ear. Hope struggled in her chains behind them.
“My angel …” Her words were disjointed and Xander wasn’t sure if she’d actually said something or if his mind was succumbing to the poison coursing through his veins.
He faded out, caught in a wave of numbing intoxication. His breath hissed out over his lips, his eyes rolling back in his head and his teeth chattering against each other. His body began to shake violently, his stomach twisted over itself until its contents pushed their way up his thro
at. His head fell to the side and he retched — over and over until his abdomen cramped tight and he couldn’t straighten his body.
“Disgusting … clean … hose …” Words, he was only getting words and they didn’t make sense — didn’t sound real. Forcing his eyes open again, he saw Patrick’s face — angry, ugly, his features swirling and changing, evil made fluid and alive.
“Yes, your angel wants this.” A demon whispering beautiful words, Patrick leaned over to speak to Hope … not Hope. The woman shook her head no, but after a moment, and after more words Xander couldn’t understand, she reached out and took a thin metal chain from Patrick’s hand.
Xander shook away his confusion, desperate to stay conscious, to remain sane. His eyelids were too heavy and they closed again, reality disappearing, replaced by starbursts behind his eyes. His throat swelled again, another wave washing over him and rendering him lost — suspended within a thick and soupy fog. He heard Hope cry out.
“Hit her harder, Honor. You can see how much she likes it.” Patrick chuckled and Hope screamed again.
Xander’s eyes opened.
Hope’s body writhed against her chains, unwanted pleasure revealed in the way her hips moved. His breath caught in his chest, his eyes trying to blink closed again when he fought to remain awake. Hope’s sister stood in front of her, whipping her with the chain, leaving bloody trails along her body. Hope responded to the pain, too drugged to resist. Her nerves were operating at a hyper-aware level despite the fact that her mind knew getting off on it was wrong. Patrick stood back, the wicked machinations of his brain obvious in the distorted and liquid expression on his face.
“Tell us how much you like it, Hope. Scream for me now, bitch!” Patrick’s voice and laughter rang out while Xander fought to train his gaze on Hope’s face.
Tears rolled down her cheeks even when she was driven to a point of release. His eyes never left her face, he couldn’t bear to look away. She didn’t look back, staring instead out ahead of her, death sitting quietly behind her eyes.