by Bry Ann
“Your father told me to help get you ready for school.”
Tell him to go fuck himself.
“I can do it by myself.”
I grab a Gucci skirt and cashmere sweater, throwing it all on with classy sandals. There. Perfect little Briar-Rose.
“Make up, miss?” Lucinda asks, still twisting around, full of anxiety. Lucinda was abused by one of Father’s associates for years. Dad didn’t know. It’s over now, but she’s still extremely skittish around all of us now. The sad part is she can’t even afford to leave because she’s older — not old, but not young either. She has a young grandchild depending on her since her daughter passed away during childbirth years ago with no father in the picture. My heart hurts for her.
“I’ll do it,” I grumble. God forbid the public see my bare face. It’d be tragic, seeing as there’s nothing wrong with my face to start with. Wow, I’m snippy today. I know it’s because of my fight with Sty yesterday. I’m scared and hurting and somewhere along the line, that turned to anger.
“Okay, I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.”
“Egh!” I scoff. “No, get comfy in here. Just close the door so the God and Goddess of the house don’t see you. My bed’s pretty awesome.”
“Oh, miss,” she says as she quickly backs away. “I-I couldn’t.”
“Nonsense.” I smile warmly. “I see how hard you work. You deserve ten minutes of relaxation. I insist.”
“I…” She bites her lip.
“I insist,” I tease. “That’s an order.”
She smiles at me. It’s maternal and compassionate, making my heart warm. She walks forward slightly, frowning at my cheek, which I quickly try to hide. I’m not used to people noticing this stuff outside of social settings.
“Don’t let anyone hurt you, sweetheart.”
She says it so quietly that I barely hear her, and as soon as it’s out of her mouth, she scampers back and sits on my bed, stoically, clearly uncomfortable and unsure. I stare at her for a moment.
“Thanks for noticing,” I tell her quietly. A secret between us. She closes both of her eyes with acknowledged affection.
With a rare smile, I turn to the restroom and begin my makeup routine, caring way less about doing it than I usually do. See! If my parents even pretended to give half an iota about me I’d be such a better daughter.
Ugh. I have to focus on things I can change. Like my relationship with Sty. I have to try to salvage that. Yes, what he did was awful. A red flag. A terrible, awful thing. But despite it, that one bad is way better than years of neglect and disdain from my parents, and I have two choices here. Parents who couldn’t care less about me or a man who loves me and made a big mistake. He’ll apologize today for it, too. I know he will.
When I’m done getting ready, I walk out. Lucinda is as calm as I’ve seen her.
“Ready for school? Your father’s driving you.”
“Oh, stellar.”
I know Lucinda is trying not to smile. Regardless, with a tender smile, she leads me down our spiral staircase, where my father is waiting, suit perfectly in place, hair perfectly coiffed, staring at his watch impatiently.
“Good luck, miss,” Lucinda whispers before running off. The one decent thing my father does is allow Lucinda to work with the women in the house and nowhere near him, given how skittish she is around men. I do respect him for doing that. It means he has a heart in there somewhere. My father owns a prestigious real estate company, and has taken the real estate world by storm. Not only does he own the company, but he owns several successful side businesses as a result of that. Rich, powerful, wealthy man.
“Why are you taking me to school? You haven’t done that since I was seven.”
I eye him skeptically.
“We need to talk.”
Great.
Sage, we have this event coming up. I need you there. Sage, we need you to do this better. Sage, your attitude has been out of line lately. Sage. Sage. Sage.
“Oh.” I lift my backpack higher on my shoulder.
“Grab your makeup bag before we leave.”
“What? Why?”
“Sage, don’t argue with me.”
Pursing my lips, I nod. “Fine.”
I sprint up the stairs, grab my olive green bag filled with various shades of various products and run back down the stairs. Dad looks me over once.
“Ready?”
“We’re gonna be late.”
“I’m never late.”
“Of course you’re not.”
He sends me a warning glare to knock off the attitude. Okay, I’m laying it on a little thick. It’s one thing to think it, it’s another to say it.
We both head to the garage. I climb in the black seat of one of dad’s several cars, expecting him to call a driver and climb in the passenger seat next to him. But he doesn’t. He crawls in the backseat next to me, suit and everything.
My eyes widen.
“What are you doing?” I practically gasp. I swear to god my dad almost smiles at me. What the hell is going on?
“I told you we need to talk.”
Oh, shit!
“Uh… okay.”
He nods. It’s not until the car is rolling down the road that my father finally turns to me so he can put me out of my misery. So he can stop me from continuously spiraling through what he could possibly need to say to me this badly.
“Where have you been lately, Sage?”
“I told you. My boyfriend’s.”
“Who is…?”
“Why do you care?” We have an unspoken deal. Don’t ask and I won’t tell! What is he doing?
“Sage,” he sighs. His hand reaches out. Instinctively, I fly back into the second seat. For the first time ever, my father’s eyebrows scrunch with concern.
“Sage!” he yells. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, uh, fly.”
“Fly, hmm.”
“Yes, sir.”
Raising his hand slowly, he grabs the back of my neck.
“What are you…?”
Not listening to me at all, he swipes his thumb along my makeup-covered, injured cheek several times. My words lodge in my throat. I did good makeup. He just wiped it all off. Why?
“Who did that?” he says swiftly, pointing at my cheek with authority. Rage like I’ve never known boils inside me.
“Really! You’re playing dad now! Are you kidding me?”
I spin in my seat, planting my hands on the door knob, jerking it several times, only to find it goddamn child locked.
“Is this some kind of joke? Let me out right now!”
“Sage, calm down.”
“Calm down!” I shriek. “Calm down. I will break this window. Let me out!”
Dad actually has the gall to roll his eyes. “Stop being dramatic. I’m simply trying to talk to you. I hired a more capable company president so your mother and I can be home a bit more. We want to work on being better parents to you.”
“No. No. No. No. Don’t mess with me.”
I back myself into the door.
“Sage,” he says flatly. “Stop. I’m not impressed by this behavior.”
I glance out the window, relieved to see my school.
“Well, look at that, my school. It’s 7:56. I already have to hurry. What a shame.”
“We aren’t done talking about this, Sage.”
The driver opens my door and I jump out.
“Sure, yep, whatever. PS, I won’t be home ‘til late tonight. Don’t wait up,” I rush out.
I run off before the bellowing of his voice telling me to stop is too close to disobey.
He can seriously go fuck himself. What was all that? Are you kidding me right now?
School goes by in a blink. All I want is to forget that weird-ass talk from my father and go resolve things with Sty. High school sucks without friends, so I never look forward to my time there. I guess I could put more work into friendships, but Sty always get jealous when I spend time wi
th them, so…whatever. I shrug to myself.
I take the bus to Sty’s place. I have the routine down by heart now. It takes twenty-two minutes to get there by bus, twenty-three today. I get off at my usual stop, pay the bus driver, and trudge onto the warm, grey pavement.
A half a mile down the road, my life changes.
Something slams over my head, disorienting me before a rag is thrown over my mouth. I don’t even have time to scream before my world goes black. It all happens so fast.
In the blink of an eye, Sage Briar-Rose ceases to exist.
Chapter Three
I wake up with a start, heart pounding. Oh my God, what happened? Where am I? This isn’t Sty’s place.
Sty?
I glance around the tiny room. There’s nothing here.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Stone grey walls. Water dripping down, drop by drop. Drip. Drip. Drip. I slowly spin around. The sight in front of me makes my heart lodge in my throat. A mattress. A dirty, stained mattress lying on the cold floor. This is not a bed made for sleeping.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
My hands begin to tremble aggressively. I jump forward, trying to run, when I’m yanked backward by an invisible force around my ankle. I tumble onto the ground. It’s only then that I realize there is a chain around my ankle. The sob threatening to erupt gets lodged in my throat.
Oh God. What’s going to happen to me?
I told my dad not to wait up and he won’t. The level of panic surging through my system is so intense I almost can’t feel it. It’s too much for my sheltered mind to process.
Okay, okay, how do I get out of this?
I lean forward, hands shaking wildly, when the level of skin I’m met with hits me.
I’m naked.
I’m naked.
Somebody undressed me without my permission.
A stranger saw my naked body.
I gasp. I can’t get air in. I start to breathe so fast, I’m choking. I’m gonna die right now. Naked and alone.
A pathetic laugh bursts out of me.
How fitting.
Amidst the manic laughter and panic attack threatening to occur, the door creaks open. I spin abruptly to see Sty standing in the doorway, smirking, dark arms crossed over his chest.
“Sty?” I gasp. My mind spins too fast to keep up. I jerk on the chain. “Help me, please! There has to be a key! You’re here… How? Wait…”
Horror strikes me in a way that pierces my heart. I scatter backward as tears well in my eyes.
“No, no, please. Sty?”
“Hey, baby.”
He strolls in, fat jiggling slightly with the motion. He shuts the door quietly behind him. I’ve never felt more like an animal in a cage. I back myself into the corner.
“Why?” I breathe. I can’t say anything. Everything is slamming together, whirling in my mind too fast to catch.
But the pain. Oh my God, the pain. It’s even outweighing the fear.
Sty rolls his eyes, quickly approaching me. He snatches my arm tightly enough to bruise. Did I ever really know him? I can’t see his gleaming eyes because mine are too full of tears. He drags me across the room and shoves me onto the bed.
“You don’t talk unless I tell you you can.”
I try to scamper back to the other side of the mattress, but Sty grabs my ankle and yanks me forward, landing a fist on my face. The swack echoes in the room, sending pain radiating through my head. I’m slightly dizzy when I hear the distinct sound of the door opening and closing again.
I freeze.
I don’t know how else to explain it. I literally just shut down from the trauma and shock of it all.
I hear the mattress creak, but don’t process it.
I feel an unfamiliar pair of rugged hands hold me down, but it doesn’t faze me.
I feel Sty, a man I thought I loved, a man I stupidly gave everything to, line himself up with me.
I feel him thrust inside of me in one go.
I feel him come.
I feel the second man take his place, using my body as nothing more than a place to stick his dick.
… But the whole time, it’s like I’m watching from above. Like I’m watching myself from the outside. At the end of it all, I feel Sty grab my arm and jam a needle inside.
“Be good, 262. I’m sure you now regret not goddamn listening to me and making this so complicated. We could have skipped this part.”
As the drugs start to kick in, some of the misery disappears, but I’m too tired, too stunned, to give into the high this time.
I really thought that being lonely, spoiled, in my giant mansion was bad. I’m such a fucking brat. This is what it feels like to be wrecked. Shattered.
I have to get free.
“262! Get the fuck up!’
Swack! The sole of a shoe slams into my side without warning. Whimpering, I scramble out of bed. I cower back by the wall, tucking myself in a tiny ball to try to hide my dirty, used, naked body from the eyes of yet another man I’ve never seen before.
I don’t know how long I’ve been in this room, but some time has passed. I’ve just started waking up for real. Yesterday, I got the awareness to try the door several times. Locked. Sealed. Trapped. Other than that, I’ve been in shock this whole time. Not even the drugs could fully faze me. These dirt bags have been fucking a robot this whole time. It makes them mad, too. The first day, they stuck to a ‘light’ slapping to try to get even a little life back into my body. Then it went up to punching. Today, I already know they are done with fucking a lifeless girl. They want slightly more. Enough to get a reaction. Not enough to fight.
So I will either be the most lifeless girl in the world or fight like hell. Not sure yet.
“Did you hear me? Get. Up.”
“Why?”
His eyes flare. He grabs me by my hair and slams the back of my head into a wall. Fireworks explode in my brain.
“Get up and I won’t beat you within an inch of your life,” he seethes.
My feet slip a few times before I find the stability to stand. I wobble slightly. My head is still spinning, aching, from being slammed into the stone. I try to wrap my arms around my body, but I’m too weak. Too tired. They’ve barely fed me anything. Even water has been scarce. Combine that with the drugs, rape, and minor beatings, and well… I’m useless.
The large man with tatted olive skin and cruel brown eyes grabs my hair again and pulls me forward, forcing my arms by my sides.
“Put this on.”
He shoves me away and throws me a filthy, oversized white t-shirt. My hands are shaking as I inch it over my head. After three days of nudity and darkness, it feels scratchy and claustrophobia-inducing on my skin.
When it’s on, he grabs my arm again.
“We’re moving you. Don’t fight. Sty says you have a friend, Amy Wilder.” He grins cruelly. “Unless you want her to join you, you’ll do as we say.”
Amy. A sob creeps up my throat. She wants to be better. She has scholarships. We may not be friends anymore, but I’d never let this happen to her. This whole thing with Sty was all part of a plan. Grooming me. Making me an easy target. Oh God, he isolated me from her on purpose.
Amy was right.
I choke, holding back my tears. I don’t say anything, because they didn’t ask me a question. I just duck my head, showing my acceptance with my body.
“Good.”
Fuck you, asshole #3!
He yanks my arm, at the same time reaching for the door and pulling it open. The cold air washes over my clammy skin. I’m instantly overwhelmed. I know what to expect in the tiny room. I don’t know what to expect out here. I’m fucked up, but I almost want to lean into the guy holding me. No clue why. He’s more physically violent, but he’s also not as quick to invoke that violence on me as he could be. Maybe the others will be? I’m so scared, I’m shaking harder than I ever believed possible. Do my parents even notice I’m missing? Maybe Lucinda and Jerald will. They’re the only one
s I can think of that may care. I always thought that Sty cared… That thought hits me like a knife to the heart.
“We weren’t expecting you here,” a man says hurriedly, slightly panicked, though he’s trying to mask it from the man around the corner.
“I didn’t know I was required to announce myself,” a deep, almost playful voice echoes. “Nixon Marketta is here, everyone!” he yells, mocking the man.
As we round the corner, I see the short, dirty man scowl. I recognize him vaguely. I think he was the man who was with Sty the first night they raped… raped me.
Tremors possess my body. I want to go. I don’t want to be here. I glance at the other man. The man who must be even more powerful if one of my rapists is afraid of him. I’m almost scared to look.
When my eyes roam over to where he stands, I’m met with someone much younger, and admittedly, far more attractive. He’s got shaggy, dirty blond hair, corded, tight muscles, and beachy, rock star clothing with a heavy dose of leather bracelets. Even as my feet are dragged along, I feel eyes land on me.
They’re his.
Meekly, I glance up further, unable to resist seeing his expression. Dirty lust? Hunger? Rage at my expense? What’s his thing?
His face is blank before momentary shock crosses it, like I’m the last thing he expected to see. His eyebrows furrow slightly and his jaw falls ever so slightly open.
“Stop!” he commands… and everyone does.
The man with the tight muscles and leather bracelets strolls over to me, making my already-trembling body shake so hard I almost tumble back into asshole #3. If they are going to call me a number, then that’s what I’ll call them. I’m slave 262. They are asshole 1, 2, 3… so on and so forth until I end them. Bracelet man is asshole #4.
All of this is in my head though, of course.
“What’s your name?” He asks me tightly, jaw ticking.
“I…” I open my mouth and immediately shut it when all eyes land on me.
Seeing my terror, asshole #4 rounds on the two other men, coiled with tension.
“Who the hell is she?”
“One of the girls,” the short man, the man who raped me after Sty, says.
“Girls?” Asshole #4 questions.