by L. C White
The Russian removes his hand from my neck with a low grunt, taking a wide step back.
“Fall guy?” I cough.
“Yes, as you’re aware, a young girl got caught up in the mess you’ve caused. Now, under normal circumstances, she would disappear. But thanks to you, Trent went a little.” He circles his finger around his temple. “And thought it a good idea to make her a message to you. You confess, and everyone wins. You don’t get shot in the head. You can serve your time in a maximum security prison. Friday is back with her rightful owner. And nobody gets hurt.”
I laugh. It’s an automatic reaction to laugh at the stupid dick, no matter how much my body hurts. I’ll serve time, sure I will, but only with the knowledge Amber is out of this for good.
“I don’t know what kind of a sick world you are a part of. You evidently have no clue about how a negotiation works. A bullet in the skull I’ll gladly take.” My smile vanishes fast as anger takes me. “You want me to claim responsibility for murder, then you need a better bargaining chip.”
Now he’s laughing at me. “I did tell Trent this was an unwise idea.”
He gestures his head at the Russian and I’m punched in the gut. My body swings like I’m a pig carcass being bled dry. Fuck, this guy hits like a goddamn frate train. I gasp in a breath, my arms again taking the brunt of my body weight.
“Okay, let’s bargain then, shall we. Tell us Dwayne, what do you want offered on the table?”
“I…” I wheeze, looking him in the eye. “I want to see Amber.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” I growl in his face.
Again he nods his head at the giant Russian, and again I’m used like a human punch bag. It’s very similar to when Peter used to beat on me. This Russian likes to throw his fist at the same spot. But the pain of this is amplified tenfold.
“SHIT,” I howl, spitting out the blood rising up from my gut.
“Friday is no longer on the table for you. But I’ll tell you who is,” he says, gaging my attention fast. “Your comrades are being watched right now. One James Scott and his parents. Nice guy, but unfortunately business is business.”
“Okay… okay,” I blow out. “Then, I want to see Trent.”
He narrows his eyes on me in thought, then nods his head at the Russian. The Russian walks down the tunnel, his slow heavy footsteps fading away.
Fuck, Trent is here. I try to straighten up my body. I want to greet this evil dick like a man.
“You drive a hard bargain.” Layton strolls through the stagnant water, as the sound of footsteps return in the tunnel.
I yank at my tender arms as Trent walks right up to me. I swear if I weren’t strung up right now, I’d kill him with my bare hands. There’s a wild animal inside me; like a lion protecting his pride. I don’t care how beat-up I am, all I can envisage is Trent’s blood on my hands.
He stands there in his suit and tie, just out of my reach. I can’t kick him, or bite him; I can’t even fuckin blow on him.
“Not really in a position to be making demands,” he says.
“Where’s Amber… You fuckin hurt her then…”
He cuts me off and says, “Then what? You’ll kill me. Dwayne, I don’t think you quite understand what I can do to you, and anyone who knows you.”
“I don’t give a fuck how powerful you think you are,” I yell.
“Well, you should. You have upset a lot of my clients.”
“Clients. More like perverted fucks.”
He makes his move, like a king on a chess board taking out a pointless pawn. I’m useless in this messed-up state, and he knows it. He grabs my face with his leather gloved hand, and squeezes my cheeks.
“You want your friends to die? James Scott. His sweet Mother Eliza, and his Father Keith,” he sneers in my face, as I struggle against the cuffs and chains. “What about your employee, Jimmy, the ex-navy seal. You do know he has a beautiful Daughter.”
My struggle dissipates. I’m losing the battle. I can’t fight this; he has all the cards and there is nothing I can do. We’re not talking about just some corrupt suit here. We’re talking international Russian fuckin mafia. I can’t let the people I care about die because of this.
“Amber,” is all I can say.
He releases my face and pushes me back. “She’ll be well cared for.” I actually have tears in my eyes, and I haven’t cried since the day I walked out on her. “I think you have got me all wrong. Friday, is very important to me.”
“Her fuckin name is Amber!”
He stares at me and I can see it in his eyes. I see nothing but cold callous evil. He sees Amber as nothing but his personal possession. Like his favorite car, or a painting. He won’t love her, protect her, or make her smile. He won’t touch her with love, or wipe her tears away with meaning. He’s a merciless mentally fucked up human being.
“Everything is being set into place,” he says, strolling from one end of the room to the other. “Your fingerprints are on her body. You have been calling her and sending her messages from a cell phone you will have in your possession. All you have to do is confess. You go back on your word, and bang fuckin bang, bye-bye friends. Friday will have everything she needs. You let me take good care of her.”
“By hitting her. Using her body. Giving her fuckin drugs. She might as well be dead,” I yell, gritting my teeth. “I have a question for you. Why not just shoot me in the head and have done with it?”
He smiles at me. A smile that needs carving out of his flesh.
“I thought you’d appreciate breathing, knowing your sister is alive and kicking, under my care.”
“Fuck you!”
He pulls up the sleeve of his jacket and looks at his watch, like he has somewhere more important to be.
“Do we have a deal?” he asks. “You have ten seconds before I start giving out the kill order.”
My head drops to my chest. He has my goddamn balls on a plate. I won’t allow anyone to die because of this.
“Tick-tick-tick,” he says, tapping the glass on his watch.
“YES… yes,” I utter down to my boots.
“Good, pleasure meeting you, Dwayne.” He saunters away down the tunnel.
Chapter Nineteen
Amber
There is no time in this hotel. There’s this aura throughout the entire top floor, like it’s in a different dimension, with no connection to humanity or the outside world. It’s in the middle of San Francisco, and no one out there has a clue about what goes on here. We’re shielded by money, corruption, and powerful men with a taste for obedient women.
I’ve now given up on time. The second, minute, and hour hand on the clock may as well be turning backward. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here for: days, months, or years. There’s no time. There’s nothing but drink, drugs, and sex.
I’m sprawled out on Trent’s bed, wearing just my underwear. The sun casts its heat on my bare skin. My body and mind are limp and emotionless; a heroin induced trance which has embraced me. I fought the first few times either Trent or one of his men came in the room with the syringe. But now I need it. I need to not be able to feel a thing when Trent climbs on top of me, declaring his love.
I’m now bound to this hotel suite. A brand new build due to open in four months’ time. He’s even named it after my real name: The Golden Amber, a five star luxury hotel, fit for the dirty rich. I should be impressed on how far I’ve come from living on the streets with no money. But no. I got here through drugs and being a slut. I blamed everyone else, and allowed myself to be used. The fault is with me, not Dwayne, not even Peter. If I was a strong person, I’d have found a way out of it, like Dwayne did. But I am weak, and haven’t even tried to escape this place. What’s the point? Dwayne is alive, and I’m back where I should be. I’m quiet. Submissive. I’m what Trent wants me to be.
I lift my arm into the beam of sunlight, running my finger over the track lines. Tiny pinpointed bruises, the mark of a real fuck-up. I bite
my lip, curling up on my side, allowing this sickening stupor to envelope me.
I hear the door open. I could turn over and see who it is, but I don’t care anymore. I’ve no shame lying here half-naked and comatose. It’s normal on this top floor.
I hear Jenny talking to the guard outside my room, then closing the door.
“Friday,” she calls out. “What are you doing?”
I stay where I am, unable to answer. I don’t understand why she sounds shocked. She should be used to seeing lost girls in this state.
Her hand comes down to feel my head. She blows out, pulling on my arm, trying to get me to sit up. But I’m deadweight. I can’t. I need to sleep.
“For Christ sake.” She taps on my cheek, then begins to stroke my hair out of my face. “You’ve been given too much. Come on.” She pulls on my arm again, this time managing to hold my rocking torso upright. “Friday, wake up.” She squeezes my cheeks. “I’ve got something for you.”
My eyelids flutter open to see her smiling face. “I just want to sleep.”
“Well you can’t. Trent ordered no more of that stuff. Who gave it to you, Friday?”
My body wobbles as my eyes roll at her. I don’t know. I can’t remember. Whoever it was, I laid there willingly in my own bubble, not caring.
She taps on my cheek again as I fall back onto the mattress, wanting to drift away and never wake up.
Her huffing and sighing out around the bed stops. Either I’m asleep now, or she’s vanished like a puff of smoke.
“What is going on?” I must be awake; that’s Trent’s voice I can hear. “Friday, wake up.” He jiggles me.
I won’t wake up. I refuse to.
I feel my body being lifted from the bed. Not by heavenly light, but the devil himself. I peer just a little, lifting my heavy head to see Trent’s angry face. I smirk at him, flopping back against his arm.
I’m set down on an ice-cold hard surface. Freezing water sprays on my face and in my mouth from the showerhead above me, and I have to gasp to breathe. I squeal, slipping on the wet room floor, choking on the water.
“Wake up,” Trent orders.
I try to stand, using my hands against the tiles, but slip and fall into the corner, hard. The feelings and emotions that left me, return like a forceful tidal wave, washing me away. I weep as the contents of my belly explodes out of my mouth.
“Oh fuck,” Trent snaps. “Who the fuck has made her overdose!”
I shiver, curling up into the corner, shuddering in a tight ball as my brainwaves whirl around so fast, I begin to gag again.
“Go away,” I yell, scratching my wrist so hard I break skin.
“Stop that,” Trent says.
I begin to remember the reason I’m in this state. I did it. The empty syringe Layton left from last night was lying on the dresser, and next to it was an extra 5ml, probably for one of the other girls. I did it. I did it because I wanted to sleep forever.
I continue to rip at the skin on my wrist, as Trent drags me out from the running water. He grabs my biceps, lifts me up to his face, and shakes me violently.
“STOP IT FRIDAY,” he growls at me.
“NEVER.”
He swings out his arm and the palm of his hand slaps my face so hard, all I can hear is ringing. But I’m not going to stop. I scowl at him, sobbing, wanting him to hit me again.
“I won’t stop… I won’t!” I yell. “I’ll never love you Trent, so you’re going to have to kill me. I’d rather be dead than have to have you fuck me whenever you want!”
He shakes me aggressively again, his face coming down close to mine. “You stupid bitch,” he spits, grabbing my hair.
He yanks me into the hotel suite by my hair. The pain of my roots popping out of my scalp, makes me feel alive. I don’t care if he beats me black and blue. I just feel like I need to fight him all the way, even if he stops me breathing. He’s back, Dwayne’s image: his words, his touch, it’s all I have left. He wanted me to fight, so I will.
I’m flung on to the bed as Jenny tries to stop Trent from getting to me. I back up on the mattress, watching as he frog marches Jenny out of the room. My back is pressed up against the headboard, panting, waiting for him to run at me, but he doesn’t. He calmly turns to me, his blue shirt all wet with water and my vomit.
“Dwayne,” he says, coolly.
I frown, bringing my knees up to my chest as he approaches the bed.
“What about him?”
“I know where he is at all times.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. “I let him live.”
“And I’m supposed to be grateful. He’s probably no better off than me, with your bully boys.”
“You stop talking, or you can wear the fuckin gag,” he sneers, leaning over so I move my feet back.
“I hate you,” I state.
No sooner as that last word left my mouth, he clambers across the bed, yanking down my legs. He straddles my body, making sure my arms are tucked beneath his legs, so I’m unable to defend myself. The fingers of one of his hands grip my cheeks, as the other hand coils tightly around my neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just pins me down securely. I hiss through my teeth, my body quivering beneath his hold. I’m not helping myself. I don’t know if it’s the drugs, the thoughts of Dwayne, or Trent climbing on top of me. But there’s a fire growing in my belly right now, and it needs dowsing if I’m to make it out of here alive.
“Listen to me.” His lips come over my ear. “I can sell you off whenever I want. I can send you to the highest bidder. Would you like that?”
I nod a no, frowning. Why would he do that after going to all this trouble to get me back?
He releases a deep sigh, his eyes coming right over mine. He begins to kiss my face, and every muscle inside me tenses.
“I like this,” his gruff voice says into my neck. “I like the tension.”
Tears tumble from my eyes as his fingers begin to rip down my pants. Oh god, I’ve only made this worse. I shiver, squeezing my eyelids tight, wishing I was still emotionless from the heroin.
“See,” he utters, his nose pressed on mine as he thrusts into me. “This is all you need.”
Like back on the streets, I’m being assaulted and unable to do a thing, as shock wraps a shell around my soul to try and block out what is happening to me.
My eyes remain sealed tight, and my fingernails dig into the palms of my hands as he grunts and sweats, rubbing into me. I make no sound as a survival instinct kicks in, and that shell around me hardens so I resemble nothing but meat to him. Tiny flashes of anger and frustration begin to swarm in my mind. As he takes me, I’m thinking of every imaginable painful way to kill him, knowing that it’s not possible in this place. I’m too weak to fight him with my bare hands. He’s much stronger than I, and the drugs hinder my strength. I could find something to protect myself with. But I know there’s nothing sharp or heavy enough that would cause instant death in this room. I can’t run and hide; there’s a guard outside this room at all times, and I’d be caught after only a few steps out on that corridor. And there’s no way I could escape through a window two hundred meters high. I’m his prisoner.
I silently weep, turning my face away from his.
He’s done, pressing into me like a dog in heat, as my head stays facing the window. I’m silent and dutiful. He’s punished me in the most ruthless way possible. It’s so much harder now, after Dwayne. Being loved in the right way, has made me want to protect my body for love only. But I can’t protect it from Trent.
I feel him climb off me, and hear him buckling up his trousers as I curl up on my side. The pillow beneath my cheeks is soaked instantly with tears.
“I have some good news, Friday,” he says, his voice making me feel nauseous. “I have purchased another home for you.” I want to press my hands against my ears so I can’t hear his toxic voice anymore. “As soon as you are well enough, I’ll take you to see it.” I hear his feet sweep over the carpet, and feel his menacing presence come to stand over me.
“Would you like that?”
I don’t answer, just stay as still as possible, pressing my naked thighs together tightly. He’s going to move me to another prison, there’s nothing good about it. The other girls accept this as their fate. Like me, they’ve been brainwashed, broken, and are mentally willing to please him. I however, have Dwayne now.
“Friday, I want you to shower. I want you to get dressed. And I will have food brought.” I swallow down, squeezing my eyes tighter. “Are you listening to me?” he barks, making my heart jump in my chest.
“Yes Trent,” I utter.
As the door closes behind him, I bring my hands up to cover my face, disgusted in myself.
Chapter Twenty
Dwayne
After I made the deal with Trent, in order to save those who have been tangled up in this mess, I was hosed down, then given a cell phone with a rigged memory. On it are obsessive threatening messages to, Zoe Harrington, and phone calls made only hours before her death. The cops who are in on this, the ones who attacked me and took Amber, took me into the San Francisco Police Department, and handed me over. I was interrogated for hours, and I said nothing other than, I confess. I was stripped searched, photographed and fingerprinted, and given a paper jumpsuit to wear. I’ve been charged with first degree murder and rape, and I’m waiting to be transferred to San Quentin State Prison.
It’s been four days. Four fuckin days and I have no idea if Trent Moore has honored his end of the bargain. Four days of having no clue if my Amber or my friends, are alive, and now I’m struggling to bite my tongue. I need proof. I should have demanded it. Just to hear her voice on the phone will do right now. I’m fuckin dying inside not knowing.
The officer who bundled Amber into the trunk of his car, one Finley Smith, smirks at me through the bars of the cell I’m being held in. I swing my legs off the concrete bed, and sit up to eyeball him back.
“Ready for an outing,” he says smugly.