by Skye Warren
Bang!
A blast sounded in my ears at the same time as the vehicle popped up into the air, halfway through its turn. A shudder and a skid, and then the Explorer was still turning. Too far. It was rolling over onto the road. A sharp pain blasted the side of my face, and then everything went dark.
* * *
The first thing I knew was that my mouth tasted bitter.
I struggled to open my eyes, but it was fuzzy. Slowly, fuzzy shapes firmed up: a leather sofa, a microwave, Zachary with his hands behind his back and his head hanging down. Oh God.
Where were we? This didn’t feel like the house anymore. The carpeting against my legs felt rough and thin, more appropriate for an office than a house. There were all sorts of paperwork posted on the wall. I squinted my eyes to try and make them out.
Report Child Abuse, one posted proclaimed. What the hell?
Labor Laws, another said. Okay, some sort of office. The police station, maybe? That would be great, except I doubted I’d be stuck in an office with my—yep, I couldn’t move my hands—with my hands tied and Zachary tied up next to me.
Stomp Out Bullying and Earth Day. Oh shit. This was the school. It had to be the one they were targeting, which meant they were about to be blown up.
This room didn’t have windows, I guessed it to be some sort of teacher’s lounge now, but it had to be nighttime already. It had already been late afternoon when I’d driven out of that house, something I’d confirmed with my ultimately useless sunset calculations. Even that information didn’t really matter since I didn’t know the schedule for the bomb. Zachary had been in on the planning, though. He might know.
“Zachary,” I whispered.
He didn’t move.
“Zachary,” I said in a low, urgent voice.
Still nothing.
A cloud still dimmed my senses, probably a leftover result of my head smacking the side window. There wasn’t time to linger. I didn’t know if the men were returning or if the bomb was about to go off. I had to get us out of there.
Chapter Nine
I struggled against the ropes. After a few minutes, all I’d succeeded in doing was cutting into my wrists. Maybe I should focus more on waking Zachary.
“Zachary, please!”
I scooted toward him like an overlarge inchworm. My feet were closer to him, and as soon as they were within range, I tapped his feet with my own. He stirred. Thank God, he was alive.
But his head didn’t rise.
I kicked again, harder this time, mentally apologizing as I did it.
This time, he groaned.
“Zachary. You have to wake up.”
“Rachel?” he mumbled.
“Yes, it’s me. We’re both tied up. In a school. I think the one they’re going to blow up.”
That did it. He looked up at me, and—oh God, one of his eyes was blackened, the rest of his face scratched up and dirtied, and said, “No, no. You got away. I thought you got away.”
The disbelief in his eyes crushed me.
“I’m so sorry, Zachary. It didn’t work. They shot the car, maybe the tires, and I blacked out. I only woke up here.”
He shut his eyes, slumped, defeated. I had done that to him.
Then he shook his head as if to clear it. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. There’s not a clock in here, and the microwave’s facing the other way.”
He shook his head. “It can’t be morning yet, or people would already be arriving. It’s probably not even that late. I don’t think I was out for that long.”
I eyed his torn clothing. “What did… I mean, how were you…”
“A few bruises. No worse than you.” He laughed bitterly.
Though I doubted it was meant to be an insult to me, it stung. “Please,” I whispered. Please don’t be angry. Please stay with me. Please don’t give me that cold, emotionless mask again.
“Ah God, Rachel.” He leaned his head back to the wall. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. How am I supposed to protect anyone if I can’t even protect the woman…”
“I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” His voice was odd. Detached. As if this was a curiosity, not something he was truly invested in.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I shouldn’t have opened the doors for them, no matter what.”
“You couldn’t have known, Rachel. They were dressed as cops, how could you know?”
“I don’t know. I should have listened to you. And then the escape… I ruined it. I couldn’t drive that car very well, and I just…”
“No,” he cut in. “It wasn’t your fault. It was theirs and mine, but not yours.”
But his empty tone was hardly convincing. It was a platitude, I thought, something you had to say to someone who’d been beaten because you weren’t allowed to call her an idiot. I knew better. I deserved this. Worse, I’d gotten him into this. The fact that he hadn’t even mentioned escape, or attempted in the past few minutes, spoke volumes about how screwed we both were.
But escape attempts went out the window when we heard footsteps thudding down the hallway.
He turned to me. “Let me talk, okay? I don’t know how … I mean, I can’t… fuck. I’m going to do what I can. If there’s any way that I can get you out of this, I will.” But the bleakness in his voice made it clear: we were both dead. I felt so guilty for ever doubting him. How could I have been questioning his loyalties when he’d risked his career, his very life, repeatedly for me?
The door swung open, revealing the guy who had raped me earlier. He came in before the other man, but the way he stepped aside for him made it clear that guy was above him in the feeding chain. He was older than most of these guys, with graying hair. He was still formidable, though, and scarier, in a way, than the others. He had a hard look in his eyes that said he had no compunction about killing. Probably enjoyed it. Something to look forward to, then, for the both of us.
The older man walked straight to Zachary and punched him in the gut. I cringed, but stayed silent, the sounds of Zachary’s choked breaths filling the room as he recovered.
“It is a sad day when I cannot even trust la familia, eh?” he said. He looked over at me and caught my expression. “You did not know, senorita? This is my sister’s son. She married a gringo, but it shouldn’t have mattered. He still has the blood of my family, and this is what he does.” Just as Zachary had begun to sit relatively straight again, the man punched him in the stomach again. Zachary doubled over, gasping for breath, and ended up lying on the floor, his hands still tied behind his back.
“I am Carlos Garcia. Ah, I see you have heard of me. This is good. I enjoy my infamy. And I know you are already acquainted with my cousin, Juan. He has told me about you. He says you are most pleasing.”
Carlos walked over to me, and I cringed back, but was unable to really move away. He trailed a finger along my cheek. “Would you like to please me?”
“Never,” I said between my teeth, clenched to keep them from rattling.
He smiled, showing me surprisingly white teeth. “I like it when they don’t break so easy. You will please me, after all.”
“Get away from her,” Zachary managed to ground out.
Carlos didn’t even bother turning away from me. “You’ve had her, too, then? She will be the family whore.”
“If you touch her, I will kill you,” Zachary said.
“Strong words for a man about to die. You are lucky I want her. I could turn her over to the men, make her camp whore. She could get fucked to death by thirty men.”
I shut my eyes tightly, trying to find some last dregs of strength inside me to survive this. I found none. I wanted to beg, to cry, to plead, but none of it would matter. If I had to die, if I had to get raped, then the least I could do was do it with dignity.
But dignity was one thing this man wanted from me. He stripped me quickly, cutting the clothes off my body around the rope at my wrists. With a signal
from Carlos, Juan took up a stance right next to Zachary, a gun to his head.
“Now, whore. You will do as I say, or Zachary will get hurt. You will get hurt either way. I have seen the way you look at him, and I am not often wrong about people. You will suffer for him.”
“No,” Zachary choked out. Juan kicked him viciously, causing Zachary to gasp for air.
“Well?” Carlos asked, picking at a piece of lint on his slacks.
I hated him. I wanted to kill him. Of course I would do it. I wouldn’t let him hurt Zachary, maybe kill him, just because I didn’t want to have sex with this asshole. “I’ll do it.”
Carlos sat in one of the leather chairs, leaning back, totally relaxed. “Come and suck my dick.”
Everything in me revolted at the idea. Carlos was right about whatever he’d seen in my eyes. Even if we were going to die at the end—painful deaths—I’d do everything in my power to keep Zachary from getting hurt until then.
I knelt and then stumbled back onto the floor. I was dizzy from the pain, and maybe lack of food or water, and my hands tied behind my back were throwing off my balance. Eventually I caught myself and shuffled on my knees over to Carlos. He’d watched me the whole time with amusement on his eyes. This was entertainment for him. He was toying with me, which I might have minded more if I didn’t know that the second he got bored, I was dead.
When I reached him, I looked down at his crotch expectantly, covered as it was in his pants. He smiled evilly. “Go on, whore. Take it out.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I breathed in deep to keep them from spilling over.
“Carlos, wait,” Zachary gasped. “I can help you. The cops, they know. I can help you get away.”
Carlos laughed. “You think I relied only on you? I own half the cops on the force. They will keep the others looking in the wrong places. Now, shut him up. This whore is taking too long.”
At that, Juan smashed the barrel of his gun into Zachary’s head, and he dropped to the floor. His low moan told me he was still alive and somewhat conscious, but I knew he couldn’t take much more. Juan pulled off the bandana around his neck and used it as a gag on Zachary.
I reached my head forward, like a turtle emerging from his shell. The shame was extreme, but I finally nuzzled out the zipper from his slacks and grasped it between my teeth. I got it halfway down before it caught and I had to start over.
Still, there was no way I could get his belt off. I tried to use my teeth and my tongue to push it out of the loops, but it didn’t budge. He let me struggle, chuckling darkly at my attempts. Then he pushed me back.
“I’ll do that, stupid whore.” He whipped off his belt and then looped it. I knew what that meant. “I think a punishment is in order. The question is: who gets it? I’m going to whip someone with this. Should it be Zachary, or you?”
A pause, the too-quiet sounds of Zachary’s raspy breaths filling the air.
“Me,” I mumbled.
“I couldn’t hear you,” Carlos said. “And I expect you to address me with respect.”
“Me…sir,” I said slightly louder.
And then, before it even registered, my face was pushed into the rough carpeting, my ass in the air. Slap, the belt stung across my already bruised ass. Then again and again. All over my behind and my back, the belt came down. I’d thought that other guy, José, was rough, but these bit into my skin, flaying me open. The tears and begging spilled out, almost without conscious thought—I couldn’t stop them.
“Please. Oh please, no more. I’ll do anything. I’m sorry.”
It took me a few seconds to register that the beating had stopped. He pulled me up by my hair and spat in my face. Then he pushed my face back down to the floor, near his shoes.
“Lick them, whore. Show me how dirty you are.”
Shaking with pain and exhaustion, I truly would do anything in that moment. I licked them. Once, twice. Then, as he used my hair as a handle, licked them all over, coating them in a thin layer of saliva. Then he lifted his leg. I cringed, thinking he was going to kick my face, but he shoved my face into the sole of his shoes. I licked there too, tasting the grit of the street.
Then he sat back down, straightening his trousers, as if his hard cock wasn’t bulging out. As if he hadn’t beaten me and humiliated me. Then he gestured down, almost regally, “Come and suck my dick. Get it right this time. You don’t want me to get angry with you.”
I shuffled over as quickly as I could and took his dick into my mouth. The musky smell hit me hard and threatened to upend my stomach, but I shut my eyes and held it down. He let me work on his cock for a while, licking and sucking and bobbing my head.
Then he pushed me down, shoving my nose into his pubic hair and blocking my air passage. Even without air, I was careful not to bite down, knowing the price of such a mistake would be heftier than Zachary or I could afford. I did struggle, and he when he finally let me up, I gulped in air. Then, without being told, I put my lips back around his cock.
“What a good whore,” he crooned.
He pushed my head back down, shoving his cock all the way in my throat. This time, I ran out of air sooner, since I hadn’t really caught my breath after the last time, but he held me down longer. I thrashed around, but had no purchase with my hands behind my back. I started seeing spots and was sure I’d pass out, when he let me up again.
I lost track of the number of times he did this to me. My entire world narrowed to the times when I could gulp in air. I even lost consciousness a couple of times with his cock shoved into my throat. I woke up to that same cock slapping me in the face until I forced my lips around it again.
Finally, he began to push my head down and let me come back up in a regular rhythm. Push down, let me up. Push down, let me up. His hips started reaching up to meet my mouth, humping my face. Then he stiffened and held me all the way into him, my nose smashed against his groin as he groaned above me.
When he finally released me, I collapsed back onto the floor, breathing hard. My eyes were open, but I couldn’t see anything. I wasn’t sure it was even tears, really, but my body breaking down under the stress of it all.
I vaguely registered Carlos zipping up and then talking on his cell phone. I struggled to focus and could finally see again. He was pacing by the counter.
My brain was sluggish, but I had never forgotten Zachary. I looked over at him, hoping he was conscious for his health, but at the same time, hoping he wasn’t. Unfortunately, his eyes were looking straight at me, glassy with his own pain. The horrible part was that they were filled with pity.
He’d seen the whole thing. God, what I’d give for him not to have seen me like that. That’s all I could think about. It was horrible, but it was over. I had survived it, but Zachary had seen it. Now he would think of it whenever he looked at me, and I, in turn, would think of it whenever I looked at him. It was the very worst sort of bond I could have made with the man that I cared about. The only man I’d ever cared about.
He didn’t look away from me, though, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. Surely he was disgusted by what he’d seen, but he looked into my eyes. Was it courtesy? Respect? Pity? He couldn’t say anything with the gag still in his mouth. It looked like he was trying to convey some message with his eyes, but I couldn’t tell. Even if I could try to guess, it was too messed up with my own pain and self-loathing to be any kind of accurate.
Carlos let out a string of something I assumed were curses, and then hung up. He walked back over to me and kicked me in the side. It had barely strained him, but the pain made me tense up for several long minutes.
“Zachary is looking at you, whore. I think he wants to fuck you, too. I am a fair man, and he is my nephew. I am willing to give him this last request.” The sound of Carlos laughter was punctuated by the sharp pain in my hair as he dragged me over to Zachary’s tied body.
Chapter Ten
“Suck his dick.” With his hand in my hair, Carlos shoved my face down towards Zachary’s cock. I turn
ed my face away, pulling my own hair in the process. I hated that Carlos was making me do this. I hadn’t minded him making me suck him as much I minded this. I’d sucked Zachary’s cock before, but it had been an act of shared pleasure, maybe even something as sappy as love, but not this. Not pain, not forced, not beaten.
Carlos shoved my face down farther, so that Zachary’s hard dick tapped my face aimlessly—my cheek, my nose. Although, as Carlos had said, Zachary was hard, I didn’t like to think that Zachary had gotten off on watching my torture, my rape, at the hands of his uncle. Then again, maybe it was a purely physical reaction. Maybe if Zachary wanted this, then I could do it.
I glanced up at him. Zachary’s mouth was split open with a bandana. His nostrils flared, his eyes wide. “Rachel,” I thought he said, muffled beyond comprehension through his gag. He shook his head wildly, though, making his answer clear.
He didn’t want this.
I couldn’t do it then.
I knew the pain of rape. Not the physical pain, which could be bad enough, but the kind that broke a person into so many pieces they knew they’d never be able to put themselves back together again. That was me. Damaged beyond repair. I wouldn’t do that to anyone else, and especially not to Zachary.
Carlos punched me in the side of my head, knocking me over onto Zachary’s legs. Then he yanked me back up by my hair. “I said, suck it.”
I wouldn’t. Tears smarted from the pain of his blow, but I’d take a hundred more and not give in. Never would I make Zachary feel violated as I had been. I’d rather die.
I thought I might die, actually, as he hit me again and again. I hoped I would. Distantly, I heard the muffled grunts as Zachary failed to talk.
Then, abruptly, the blows stopped.
I opened my eyes, but I still couldn’t see. Like a movie scene, Zachary came into focus as Juan ripped the bandana off of his mouth.
“Stop,” he said hoarsely. “Please. Rachel, I… please.”
I stared blankly at him, unable to move due to the pounding in my head.