by L. C White
I’m curled up in a ball, shivering, drifting in and out of consciousness, as the car bumps my body around. There’s only one tiny source of light, which shines through the back of the backseat. I’m covered in sweat, tears, and even my own saliva. At first I fought. I kicked at the lid and backseat. I screamed and yelled for help, trying to free my arms cuffed behind my back. But the more I struggled, the less I could breathe. My energy faded, as did nearly all the oxygen in this tiny space.
The only thing that is keeping the breath in my body is the thought of Dwayne. I have to stay alive. I have to know what happened to him. Every time I blink, the image of his body on that road being beaten, penetrates my heart, causing it to pump even faster. I should have never allowed my love for Dwayne to crawl back into my heart. I should have never expected good to come from it. Because I believed when I was with him. I believed I could be happy and safe. And that hope I had, has probably killed him. He tried so hard to bring me back. But when you’ve been a resident in hell for so long, the flames will only lick up and burn away any goodness that comes into your life.
I begin to drift away as the car stops moving, and the grumble from the engine can no longer be felt. The trunk lid clicks and opens. The brightest light I’ve ever seen beams down on me, causing my body to curl up even more.
“Jeez, she looks a fuckin mess,” I hear a low male voice say. “Hey beautiful. Come on, open those eyes.” A cold hand nudges my shoulder and I recoil, tightening my body into a smaller ball. “Out you get.”
I’m grabbed by a pair of hands, and pulled from the dark safety of the trunk. I stagger, my legs weakening as I try to figure out where I am. Every terrified breath I exhale, occurs within a long drone. There are two men: one the cop who shoved me into the trunk of his car, and the other is one of Trent’s guards at the house. But I’m not at the house. I’m in some large empty underground concrete garage.
That fight mode Dwayne taught me kicks in, and my eyes scour for an escape. I back up as the men close in on me.
“There’s nowhere to run. So don’t try anything stupid.” The guard hovers closer with his hands out.
I don’t listen, and I do run. I run with everything I have, but my limp useless body is too overwhelmed by fright, and I have lost all sense of balance. The toe of my pump catches the heel of the other and I fall, smacking my cheek with force against the ground. I cry out, feeling the stinging graze and instant swelling.
The cop’s boots approach and stop only an inch from my watering eyes. He crouches and without a word, lifts my body up to fling me over his shoulder.
“Radio up to the top floor,” the cop says in a labored breath, trying to keep me still. “Tell the boss we’re on our way.”
I’m swinging with blood rushing to my head, so all I can hear is a whooshing noise as I’m taken into an elevator.
“Has the guy been dealt with?” the guard asks the cop.
I feel his body shudder a smirk. “Oh yeah.”
I twist and wriggle as panic overcomes my breathing.
“What have you done to him?” I yell, with tears dripping down over my temples.
“Stop fuckin fighting, bitch.” The cops arm over my thighs squeezes me harder.
“NO.” I continue to thrash around and hit his back with my fists, trying to make it as difficult as I can for them.
The guard grabs the roots of my hair and yanks my neck up so it cricks painfully.
“Your friend was a dead man walking,” he sneers in my face. “You’re the boss’s favorite pussy. No one screws around with that.”
I close my eyes, squeezing out a swell of tears. He said was. He fuckin said was.
I weep in devastation as I’m carried out of the elevator and down a long corridor. I’m in a hotel. It’s one of Trent’s, it has to be. I can hear people fucking, catching glimpses of open hotel doors, and scenes of dark sexual activities in every room. Men in white masks. Women bound naked to beds and over chairs. I’ve been brought to a place worse than hell. This is deeper, darker; it’s drug fueled and dirty. These girls are Trent’s street workers. Girls probably taken, groomed, and shipped here from around the world. It’s nothing like the house. It’s on another level which is so cruel, there are no words.
My fragile sweat laced body is taken into a room, and I’m dropped down onto a soft mattress. I try to scuffle up, but have no stability because of the handcuffs. I blubber, peering around the luxury suite. It’s warm looking, and bigger than the wing I stayed in at the house. There’s even an office area. But I see no escape, apart from the door I was brought through.
A horrid thought enters my head. What if I’ve been brought here to be raped? What if this is Trent’s punishment.
“Friday.” My eyelids slowly close at the sound of Trent’s voice at my back.
I stay as still as I can be on my side, curled up tight.
“Take those cuffs off her… now,” Trent orders in anger.
I keep my eyes closed, shaking in fear as the cuffs are removed from my wrists. I should be relieved, and be able to move into a more comfortable position. But I can’t. I’m all cramped up, too afraid to look at him.
Trent’s hands come down onto my arms. Even without looking, I know it’s him. I know his scent. I know his touch. I can feel the dark energy he exudes. He brings me up into a sitting position, and moves my legs over the edge of the bed. His hand runs over my tender cheek as I press my lips together.
“Who did this to her?” he asks the guard.
“She fell boss.”
“Fuck,” he snaps. “Friday, please open your eyes,” he asks in a soft tone, manipulating my neck back and forth. “You’re home now.”
I sniff up, straining to open my eyelids. Trent is crouched before me, gazing up like he’s glad I’m back. Once this gentle gaze would make me feel special, but now it terrifies me. I knew he was wicked, but I never thought that wickedness went right to the core of his soul.
I lower my eyes, unable to look into his. He killed Dwayne. Dwayne was the only good thing to happen to me. Maybe I’d be better off dead. Maybe I should allow Trent to do it. He’ll only end me one way or another anyway.
“I’m so glad you’re back from your ordeal,” he says, pushing up my chin. “I knew you’d come home to me.”
“You… you killed Dwayne.” I swallow down.
“No Friday,” he says. “But he’s going to pay for his crimes.”
I frown at him. “He’s alive?”
“For now. He should have never taken you away. And he will pay dearly.”
“I wanted to be taken,” I tell him the truth, and a weight lifts off my chest.
His nostrils flare as he smirks. “So you don’t need your medicine?” he pulls a wrap of cocaine from his trouser pocket.
My eyes widen on the foil as he toys with it in his fingers, just out of my reach.
“Leave us,” he says to the guard and the cop as he stands up, taking my fix away.
The hotel door closes on us. Trent turns to me, taking several seconds to examine me intently. He holds up the wrap again, so the warm lamplight glints off the foil. He’s teasing me with it. He thinks I need it, and I do. But there’s something I need much more. Dwayne.
“My Aunt told me all about your feelings for your brother,” he says.
“He’s not my brother,” I utter through a gulp.
“Then what is he, because I’m confused, Friday.”
“My name is Amber,” I correct him in a bold tone.
“My-my-my, seems you’ve grown some balls since you’ve been away.”
My mouth huffs out a breath as my chin lowers to my chest. “I’ll do anything. Just… just let Dwayne go.”
“I told you, I’m confused by your relationship. I need clarity. Explain it to me.” I remain silent, my fingers digging into the mattress. “He kidnapped you. Doesn’t scream love to me. And I also found this little note in your belongings.”
My eyes rise as he pulls out the letter I wrote
to Dwayne, before he made me realize I’m not worthless.
“Let me read it to you.” He unfolds the letter as my pulse thuds in my chest. “Dear Dwayne. I’m so sorry, but I have to go back to Trent. I’ve never been able to hold onto anything good. I need you to understand, I’m not the girl you knew, and what I do has repercussions on others. I won’t run away from who I truly am. I do love you Dwayne, and what we did was a moment that will always be with me.” He pauses, his eyes glaring at me over the letter. “But I have a duty to the girls at the house, and if it means being with Trent, then I’ll do it. I can’t be with you Dwayne. So please.” Again he stops to eyeball me. “And blah-blah-blah.” He screws the letter up into a ball and tosses it across the mahogany table. “You see, I had the impression this Dwayne kidnapped you,” he sneers. “Did you fuck him?” I clamp my hands together on my lap and squeeze my fingers. “Did you fuck him!”
“Yes.” I swallow down the fear. I won’t tell him that we made love. That will only infuriate him further.
“Okay.” He breathes out, leaning over the table.
I nervously watch as his fingers grip the tabletop.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a terrified whisper.
“Hmm. Your friend is alive. He’ll stay alive if you do everything I ask,” he says in a stern tone. “Now Friday, I need you to take your medication.” He straightens up and walks to me, holding out the wrap.
“I don’t want it,” I utter, fighting the urge to give in. “I… I don’t need it anymore.”
I lie because I do need it. But my love for Dwayne outweighs that craving. I need to be able to remember him in this dark place. I need to keep my senses. Dwayne brought me back. He made me feel alive again, and I don’t want to lose that feeling.
“Take it.” He hovers the wrap before my eyes, then he crouches down to me. “You have put me in a very difficult position. I’ve had to move everything here, and the members of my organization are not happy. The girls are not happy. You have a lot of making up to do.”
“I don’t need to take drugs to serve you,” I say and surprise myself, hearing the sarcasm in my voice.
He grips my cheeks, hard. My teeth break the skin on the inside, and I can taste the blood in my mouth. But I don’t care anymore. I shake my head, but his fingers only dig into my face deeper.
“You told me,” I hiss and strain to say. “That I’m free to leave. All the girls are.”
“You.” He pushes my head back and forth. “Believe that? You always knew the truth. But like the others, you love being looked after. You,” he hisses again at me, his anger rising. “You are mine, and I would have taken good care of you, Friday. Maybe I should have every master here take turns to fuck you, punish you until you learn to appreciate what I do for you, and you alone.” He thrusts back my face and straightens up. “Do you love me also?”
I rub my cheeks. “No Trent. I never did.”
He smirks. “No longer my submissive?”
“If you swear you’ll leave Dwayne out of this, then I’ll do anything,” I say reluctantly.
He smiles at me, shaking his head. “No. Now you see it has all gone. You’re not compliant with that man inside your head. But I have a way to bring it back.” He walks to the door, opens, and whispers into the guard’s ear. “You see,” he says, strolling back through the room. “Sometimes you girls will have a moment of doubt, just like this. Sometimes a certain measure is needed to keep you in line.”
The guard returns holding a syringe and a rubber tourniquet. I shuffle back then stand up from the bed. I know what’s in that needle. The coke is powerful and it’s hard to control the cravings. But I can manage it. If Trent gives me what’s in that syringe, it will destroy me.
“Good old fashioned heroin. What my street girls absolutely love. Gives one an air of compliance.”
“I’ll… I’ll take the coke,” I say, backing up to the thick cream drapes.
“You don’t get to choose what’s best for you. It looks like I’m going to have to break you in, all over again.” He smiles a sick smirk. “Sit on the bed.”
“Please… please don’t give me that.”
“I like you begging, Friday. But if you don’t sit down on the bed, I’ll have Dwayne shot in the fuckin head,” he yells. “Now, sit.”
I hope that when he injects me with that needle, I die. I pray Dwayne gets out from wherever they are holding him, and I pray that I cease to exist. I can’t live like this anymore. I’m not living, just dying inside, every time Trent uses me.
Weeping, I take a small step to the bed.
“That’s a good girl, Friday.” He takes my hand and coaxes me to sit down. “Now, let me look at these beautiful veins.” He pulls out my right arm and runs his finger over my skin. “There we go.” I close my streaming eyes and turn away, as he pulls the rubber tourniquet around my bicep. “It’s been so long since I have done this.” His fingers flick my skin as I hold in a gag. “Just know this, Friday,” he says. I flinch as the needle penetrates my skin. “I’m in love with you. I’m the one who will take care of you. You will be mine once more.”
I cry out as he pulls the needle out of my skin. I curl up on my side, my knees to my chest, weeping. But my weeping soon stops as this hazy mist surrounds me. I feel like I’m drifting through cold air, and I can no longer see. I can’t move or talk. I’m dead inside.
“Have a nice rest, Friday,” Trent’s echoing voice sounds in my ear, then vanishes to nothing.
Chapter Eighteen
Dwayne
“Argh… shit.”
My shoulder joints throb with a striking pain, pulled out of their sockets above my head. And my hands are bound, suspended in chains. I pump my numb fingers, trying to get some feeling back into my fingertips, hearing the metal rattle. There’s a fuckin stench, like human excrement, and I can’t see where it’s coming from because my damn eyelids are fused together, due to the pounding inside my skull. I’ve been out cold for a while. I know because I’m dehydrated, my swollen lips are cracking, and my gums, teeth, and throat, are bone dry. I sway, trying to get a good footing so I can take some of the pressure off my arms.
“Fuck… fuck!”
I struggle to blink open my eyes, burning tears forming in the corner of each lid. I can taste it, the chloroform that I’ve been forced to breathe in. God only knows how fuckin long I’ve been here, wherever the hell I am. And there’s my Amber. If this is happening to me, what are they putting her through? I dread to think. I need to get out of here. I have to try, even though it’s clearly not possible.
“Where the fuck are you?” I yell out, tasting the dry blood on my lips.
I shake at the chains again, spitting and spluttering in frustration. A pain like every bone in my body is broken, every nerve ending is on fire, and every muscle torn, courses through me every time I fight. I wheeze and growl, my body becoming still.
I squint, scrunching up my brow, feeling warm blood seeping from a swelling on my temple. I remember the boot coming down on my face, and nothing after that. I remember the cop telling me I’ve been framed for the murder of Zoe Harrington, but this is no police holding cell. I’m in a cold stinking stone room. It’s dark, moldy, and there’s a tunnel right in front of me. I’m underground, and from the sound of water and the reek in here, I’m guessing I’m in a city sewerage line somewhere.
“Hey… show your fuckin face,” I shout out. “It’s not like I can fuckin do anything, you weak ass pieces of fuckin shit!”
It worked. I can hear footsteps in the stagnant water, echoing down the tunnel. Not just one person, but two. I watch as two figures move toward me, my eyes trying to focus. It’s so damn dark in here.
“Dwayne Schofield,” a pompous ass voice calls out.
I think back to the night I came face to face with Trent Moore, trying to remember what his voice sounded like. But I can’t. All I can recall, is wanting to rip his head from his shoulders. I hope it’s him. I pray it’s him, then at least I know he�
��s nowhere near my Amber.
Two men enter the room and my heart drops a beat because that twisted fuck Trent, isn’t here. There’s one guy dressed in a suit with a long black overcoat, who’s around forty years old. And the guy with him is a complete opposite: covered in ink, bold, and brawny. I study one of the tattoos on his neck and hold my breath. I’ve seen the snake that twists around his neck and up over his ear before. It’s a Russian badge of honor. I lower my head, realizing I’m in way over my head. If I’d have known how deep this goes, I’d have put Amber on a fuckin plane out of the country in the first place. Not only have I screwed this up on a monumental level, but I’ve also involved good friends, who are willing to put their life down on the line for me.
“You’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you?” the guy in the overcoat says.
My eyes move up to meet his smug-ass smirk. He has dark hair and an Italian look about him. He’s the kind of guy I’d love to punch in the face. Like Trent, another arrogant, self-obsessed, son-of-a-bitch.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” I say, aiming to look pain free.
“Layton Master’s.” He grins.
So this is Layton, Trent’s buddy. Jeez, I can’t believe James has had drinks with this guy.
“Where’s Amber?”
“Oh, she’s in good hands,” he enjoys saying to me.
My eyes burn in disgust. At least I know she’s alive out there. It doesn’t make the thought of what Trent is doing to her any easier though.
“We know all about your little investigations. We’ve known from the moment you took Friday. And your snooping, has made a real mess in our organization,” he says.
The brawny Russian eyeballs me, so I gladly return the gesture, and show him my middle finger above my head. It’s painful to do even that, but the look on his fat face is worth it.
He grabs my throat with one hand. I choke and struggle. He’s a goliath, strong, and has no readable human emotions on his face. I should be worried he’s going to squeeze the life out of me, but I’m glad I’ve had this effect on him.
Layton grabs the Russians wrist. “Okay Vadik. Killing our fall guy isn’t why we are here.”