I want to scream at him and tell him to fuck off, but I know he’s expecting that, so I deliberately remain quiet. Inside, I’m dying from the violation. For some reason, Joe doing this to me is ten times worse than all the rapes I received from Drake. I don’t know why that is. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’ve known Drake for what feels like all my life. He’s familiar to me, and therefore I know his personality traits—all of them.
But, as the door closes, I can’t help let the frightened lamb inside of me out. I thought punishments from Drake were bad enough, but this … this is exponentially worse. My eyes moisten, and despite the fact someone might be watching me through a camera, I quietly let those tears fall. I thought I had no hope in the world and no future with Drake, but I would take a lifetime of that in exchange for getting me out of here.
As I close my eyes, I think about the conversation I had in the car with Dotty. She was the one who said that situations in life can always be worse than the one you’re in, but right now, I can’t think of what could be worse than this. I’ve been kidnapped, and no doubt being prepped for men who want to do vile things to me. There’s also no doubt that they’ll be worse things than what Joe just did to me on this bed.
I have no idea of time. I know it’s dark, and I know it must be the early hours of the morning. I want to stay awake just in case someone comes into the room, but as the minutes pass, my eyes can’t help lulling themselves shut for sleep. I want to fight, but right now, all the fight has been taken out of me. The smell of Joe fades, or it could be that I’ve just gotten so used to the smell that I don’t smell him anymore. Whatever it is, I welcome it.
As I slink into unconsciousness, I can’t help but cling onto a hope I thought I would never ever cling to. For years, I’ve wanted to run away from Drake Salvatore. For years, I have hated, lusted, and loved that man with a passion so fierce that it burned me from the inside out. I loathed his possessiveness and the power he held over me for so long that all I could think about was an escape. He told me countless times he was there to save me and to protect me like a man who loves a woman should.
So, I drift off to sleep with words I never thought I would utter in my lifetime playing on my lips. So softly, I say them like a prayer to a higher being.
“Come save me, Drake.”
He is my only prayer.
He is my only hope.
Come save me, Drake. Please.
Present Day
I don’t know what time it is that I’m awoken with voices in my room. Initially, in my sleepy haze, I think I’m at Drake’s, and for a fleeting moment, I groan at the thought.
But then, I remember. I remember the day before—fleeing from Drake and being taken against my will. I remember how much I enjoyed the normality of a car ride with Dotty and all the nice people I met on the way after. I remember being in my hotel room, and then, lastly, I remember what Joe did to me in it.
I’m about to reluctantly open my eyes when I feel cold water being thrown over my head. My eyes fling open, and I gasp for air. The water is freezing.
I hear laughter. “Wakey-wakey, Drakey’s girl. It’s time to get up, clean this fucking shit up, and get ready for later. You’ve been sleeping all fucking day.”
Joe is standing above me smirking. Another guy, who looks like just as much of a douche as Joe, is laughing. “Wakey-wakey, Drakey’s girl. That’s funny.”
Joe smirks, but doesn’t acknowledge douche number two. “Did you have a nice sleep, little one? Did our little adventure last night tire you? You’ll be needing more stamina for what’s in store for you.” Douche number two laughs again as Joe leans over to release me from my restraints. “You’re going to love what’s coming next for you. Especially your bath. Fuck, I often have them myself they’re so good.”
I frown at him, wondering what the hell he’s on about. It’s only when he forces me to my feet and drags me out into this narrow hallway and through another door that I see. It’s a massive room that is at once a bathroom and a bedroom. In the middle is a full bath with three naked women standing and waiting for me with sponges. I start to walk back, but Joe pushes me forward.
“I can’t believe she wants to back out of this.” He starts laughing and so does douche number two. “You can wait outside,” he orders him.
I see the reluctance on his face, but he follows Joe’s orders and backs out of the door. And then I’m left in this strange bathroom with just Joe and the three naked girls. I try to look at them to see if I can detect any sign that they don’t want to be here as much as I don’t, but they all look wooden. It’s like they’re robots. There’s no emotion from them whatsoever. They’re all beautiful, but they’re all like statues. They all have perfect, flawless skin. One is blonde, one’s brunette, and one has the blackest, silkiest hair that I’ve ever seen. They all look well taken care of and healthy, but I suspect they’ve been deliberately made that way. Just the way I’m now being made. The thought both scares and depresses me.