I close my eyes and wish for the drugs he refused to give me. If he would’ve given them to me, I would be somewhat numb during this horrific nightmare.
Take.
Take.
Take.
Even without the drugs, I’ve trained myself to escape my mind during his torture. For several long moments, I’m free.
Free from the pain. Free from the darkness. Free from him.
Smack!
My escape has been short-lived. With one hard slap, I’m right back with him.
Weston is done with me, though. The essence of his crimes against me are smeared against my inner thighs, a sticky reminder that I’ll never fully escape.
He grabs my face and turns me to face him. He smacks me again across my face and then walks back up the stairs. Once the door is shut, I go to the small bathroom that’s down here to rinse off. I use a small amount of soap, unsure if Weston will replace it once it’s all gone. I’ve had the same bottle of soap since he kidnapped me and locked me down here.
Once I’m done rinsing off, I dry my body with the one towel I have. I don’t have any clothes, so I can’t get dressed. I take a few sips of the sink water to wet my parched throat then go back to bed. Closing my eyes, I try to imagine my future, what my life will be like if I make it out of here alive, only my visions are no longer clear. The longer I’m down here, the blurrier my future looks.
A little while later, the door opens again and I hold my breath, praying it’s Derek. Hearing the soft footsteps padding downward, I know it is, and for a short-lived moment, I allow myself to sigh in relief.
“Do you have something for me?”
Derek looks at me with sadness in his eyes. He’s never said it, but I don’t think he wants to be a part of Weston’s plans—that doesn’t stop him from carrying out the orders, though. I don’t necessarily blame him for what his boss is doing, but at the same time, he hasn’t stopped him or turned him in, either.
“I do.” He places the pills on the nightstand. There are five pills total. He usually brings me the pills twice a day, but this morning he didn’t come down, leaving me shaking and in need of the numbness—the escape I crave more and more each day.
“Anything else?” Sometimes Derek will bring me down some coke—not often enough, but when he does, I’m able to escape for a bit longer than I do with the pills. It kicks in quick—only a minute after I snort the white powder into my nostrils, I can feel myself floating away to a place where I’m no longer held prisoner.
“Not today.”
“Thank you, Derek.” I grab all the pills and swallow them dry. I have no idea what they are and I never question it. I know Weston isn’t going to give me something that’s going to kill me. At least not until I turn twenty-two that is. I imagine they’re Xanax or Oxy. I’m not sure, but they work. For a little while, my body and mind can escape the reality of this nightmare.
He leaves the room, and I stare at the ceiling, at the fan whirring around and around, until I finally fall asleep.
Chapter Three
GIOVANNI
I valet park my car and walk to the restaurant inside one of the hotels my family owns here in Vegas, immediately spotting my family at the back table that is permanently reserved for us.
“Oh, Giovanni, how is it we live in the same town, yet I feel like I never see you.” My mother, Claudia Valentino, is a beautiful Italian woman, especially for her age. With shoulder-length brown hair, dyed to keep her true age a mystery, steely matching brown eyes with thick fake lashes, and makeup drawn on to hide any flaw one would find to be natural at her age, my mom looks like a woman who has been bred from luxury. She hides her true story well.
She is also the most suffocating mother you will ever meet. She has taken the void from her marriage and used her three sons to fill it. Not a day goes by that I don’t receive several calls and messages from my mom attempting to meddle in my life.
Grabbing my biceps, she leans in and gives me a motherly kiss on my cheek then wipes off her lipstick. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been busy with work.”
“That’s no excuse to go weeks without visiting your mother, Son.” My father pulls me in for a hug, patting me on my back before we sit down at the table. It is then, I notice there are three empty seats. “Who’s joining us?” I motion toward the empty chairs, annoyed. I don’t like surprises.