The kick jerks my body backward and hard against a wall. Other than my body moving, I don’t feel the pain I would expect from being kicked with solid boots at full force. It’s all the same pain to me.
It benefits me. I no longer whimper or groan. I give Dante none of the sounds that turn him on. Now, he tries harder to evoke those sounds from me. He’ll keep attempting until I’m dead.
Maybe today will be that day?
No.
That word has hovered around in my head and heart every time I’ve wished I was dead.
No.
I don’t know why. I don’t know where the hope or strength comes from, but it floats through my body, filling my soul, all the same.
No.
“Stand, whore.”
“No.”
“I told you she had a spirit, unlike any woman I’ve ever had. She’s been here a month, and she never breaks. In fact, she may have grown stronger. She controls her whimpers for the most part, but today, I think that will change.”
Another kick to the ribs. This one doesn’t send me flying back. I’m already against the wall. I hear something cracking in my body. What was it this time? More ribs? My leg? Or my skull cracking?
No. No. No. Don’t focus on the tiny slivers of pain creeping in. I’m dead. Nothing can hurt me.
I feel the tears starting in my eyes. I don’t know how they formed. I’m dehydrated from crying so much when I first got here. I thought all my tears were empty.
One month, Dante said. Have I really been here that long?
It seems like longer and shorter at the same time.
One month. Has Matteo or Arlo realized I’m gone yet? I told Matteo I would be gone for a month. After not hearing from me, or my security team, for this long, would he come for me finally? How much longer do I have to hold on?
Another kick.
A low growl.
Wait…a growl? Did I make that sound?
My puffy eyes flicker open, as wide as I can bring them. I don’t have access to a mirror, but I don’t doubt I look bad. My face has to be all sorts of shades of reds, blacks, and yellows, as different parts of my face are in different phases of healing. And my cheeks, in particular, are at least twice the size they usually are.
I see men. At least five standing over me. I don’t bother to count the exact number. That should scare me. It doesn’t.
One more kick.
And this time I definitely hear the growl. It’s not mine. My head darts in the direction of the sound. My eyes are too clouded to see clearly, but I swear I see an angel.
“Mr. Conti, would you like a turn?” Dante says, lust dripping off his voice.
Mr. Conti. A vision creeps in, one I’ve played over and over in my head. Mr. Conti barges into the dungeon with my brothers. He apologizes profusely, telling me he never wanted to turn me over to Dante. He had to, to save me later. But now that Conti’s here, standing over me, I realize it was a stupid dream that will never become a reality.
Mr. Conti moves forward, and he still looks like an angel in my eyes. A cloud of fog forms around his head, shining brightly in the darkness of the world I’m trapped in. I know it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me, but he was the culprit. He was the one who growled. He didn’t like what Dante was doing to me. This man won’t hurt me. I don’t care why he’s here; he won’t hurt me.
A sly grin forms on Conti’s face, and it warms me a second.
Then I’m kicked. Hard into the wall.
And the illusion of Conti being an ally shatters. He’s as much of a monster as any man in this room.