"Dumbass motherfuckers!" he yelled, rolling down the window. "You're lucky I didn't want to dent the hood!"
I sighed and caught a glimpse of myself in the window's reflection. I was dressed as a slutty witch, my costume complete with sparkly purple false eyelashes and claw-like fake nails. Zane revved the engine and flipped off a mom who yelled at him for being reckless around her children.
I didn’t even realize it was Halloween until Rochelle handed me the costume. I had been put to work almost every day since Zane forced me into that rundown apartment and handcuffed me to the bed. I lost count of the number of times I’d been raped. Each time was just as terrifying and demeaning as the first. And it happened day after day, night after night, in a horrific never ending cycle of abuse.
Since I attempted to escape more than once, Nate thought I was too much of a liability to allow outside the farmhouse. So everyday, I was dragged upstairs and forced into the guest room. Most of the time I was tied to the bed, not even allowed up to use the bathroom between clients. We were nothing but objects, living sex dolls. I wasn’t seen as human anymore, just an item to be bought and used.
Phoebe was sick. She hadn’t been feeling well for the last few days, not that Nate cared. He still made her work. She had woken up this morning looking sick, really sick. It made me nervous she had something worse than a flu bug. When Zane came downstairs to get her that evening, he recoiled at her appearance, saying she was too nasty to be seen in public.
He decided I was taking her place. I just sat there, staring at him while my mind whirled with the possibilities of escaping yet again. A small spark of hope warmed inside me. Maybe it would work this time…maybe. Then Zane picked up a stiletto and hit me hard in the leg with the heel, over and over until my thigh bled. I got up and got dressed after that.#p#分页标题#e#
And here we were, pulling into the back of some sort of industrial building with not a soul in sight. I was the entertainment of some sort of party. He cut the engine and got out. I wasn't supposed to get out of the car until he opened my door. I sat and waited, then followed him to a windowless, steel door.
He knocked three times and stood back. It took a full minute for the door to swing open. An overweight middle-aged man dressed as Mario scanned me up and down before he opened his wallet.
"This will get you three hours," Zane stated and recounted the money. "I don't care what you do to her in that time."
"Sweet!" Mario exclaimed. He eyed me again, though this time a puzzled look settled on his face. "Hey!" he said suddenly. "Y-you're that girl!" he stuttered. "That missing girl!" he took my arm and yanked me toward him. "Adeline," he spoke my name.
"Yes!" I said. "It's me!"
Zane grabbed my other arm and pulled. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."
"Yeah she does," the guy argued. "Her face has been plastered all over the news." He pulled on me again, stretching my arm uncomfortably. He laughed. "You're fucked," he said to Zane. "You know what I'll get for turning her in? There's a reward for her return and a reward for turning in the guys who took her."
Zane's face tightened and his grip on me faltered.
"I'll tell you what," the guy dressed as Mario went on. "You pay me double the reward money, and I won't say a thing."
"Yeah," Zane said slowly. Panic flashed in his sky-blue eyes. He swallowed hard, and little beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. His hand fell from my arm and he purposely raked his fingernails against my skin. "About that…" he started and ran his hand through his hair. I almost didn't notice his other hand moving behind his back. I took a sharp breath and stepped closer to Mario.
Zane cast his eyes to the ground, looking defeated. Mario smiled and tightened his hold on my arm. Then Zane laughed, sending a jolt of fear and nausea through my entire body. I saw his muscles flex a millisecond before he whipped his arm around, shoving a gun in Mario's face.
"Get your motherfucking hands off the bitch," he said through clenched teeth.
Mario let me go and held his hands up. "Hey now. I-I don't need the money t-that bad," he stuttered, his eyes fixed on the end of the 1911 in Zane's hands.
Stuck in between a life-size, womanizing video game character and Zane, who was his own breed of evil, I just stood there, unmoving. Mario took a tentative step back. Zane lurched forward and grabbed the guy's blue overalls.
"Get in the car, Adeline," Zane ordered.
"I paid for that!" the guy blurted.
Zane jammed the gun into his chest. I scurried past him, my five-inch heels clacking along the pavement. I ran as fast as the ridiculous footwear allowed and skidded to a stop, my hands smacking into the hood of the Camaro. My heart was pounding, and I felt hot with fear despite the chilly fall night.