Page 8 of Beautifully Broken

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Before I can push myself up, Steven grabs hold of my thighs, dragging me back. My fingers claw at the steel floor like a feral animal, trying to get some sort of grip so I can pull myself away from him.

Then Steven crawls over me, using his full weight to press my body harder into the metal.

“Get off me!” I try to elbow him, but he yanks my right hand away, pinning it to the filthy floor. He uses his knees to spread my legs wider, and I try to kick. I try to fight back, but lying on my stomach makes my attempt useless.

In a desperate attempt to get free, I use my whole body to throw him off, but his weight pins me down, making my injuries throb relentlessly.

“No!” For a desperate moment, I resort to begging. “Please don’t. Please.”

My lungs are on fire from my panicked breaths. Anger and dread flare through me, and I scream to let some of the hopelessness out.

Steven doesn’t even bother removing my panties. I feel his dick press between my legs, and a wave of disgust makes bile burn its way up my throat.

His fingers shove the filthy cotton to the side.

“No!” I let out a distressed cry as I feel his dick ram against my entrance, but all my struggling and protesting only seems to excite him more.

Steven keeps ramming against my vagina as he struggles to get his dick inside me while holding me down.

I try to clench my legs together, but his knees stop my attempts.

With a grunt, Steven enters me violently, and I can’t hold back the inconsolable and horrified screams that are ripped from my soul.

“No.” In this moment of absolute depravity, it’s the only word my brain can come up with. The burning ache is sharp as Steven begins to aggressively thrust into me.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he chuckles savagely. “I’ll be quick. You won’t remember this for long.” He keeps pounding into me, each thrust a scorching stab at my body. At my soul. At everything that made me human.

My mind begins to separate from my body until I’m only aware of my body jerking.

“Tomorrow, Henry gets to shoot your brains out,” Steven grunts again. As if my impending death is the biggest turn-on for him, he comes hard, jerking against me.

When he catches his breath, he chuckles, the sound filled with depraved amusement, “You didn’t think you were going to live, did you?” His clammy breath sticks to the skin beneath my ear, and then he whispers, “But first, we all get to have a bit of fun with you. You’ll be begging Henry to put a bullet right between your eyes by the time we’ve fucked you raw.”

Exposed and debased, I shut down.

Steven grabs a chunk of my hair and yanks me up from the floor as he climbs to his feet. I feel the stickiness of his cum dribble down the insides of my thighs, and somehow it makes it all so much worse.

I feel filthy and empty, like a piece of discarded trash.

He shoves me closer to the camera and then talks directly to the blinding light. “There’s nothing left of her, Tom. You should have given us the money when we asked.”

Steven shoves me to the side, and I fall hard to my knees. I don’t even bother getting up, but instead, curl into a fetal position.

I don’t notice him leaving. I don’t take in anything but the wetness between my legs that makes me sick to the pit of my stomach.

Emptiness stretches and grows inside of me, consuming every part that ever made me human.

It’s quiet in my soul as if there’s nothing left but a devastated wasteland.

It feels like I’m already dead because they killed my will to live.

Chapter 4

CARA

“Cara,” The whisper comes from the old man on the other side of the door. It’s too early for him to bring me food.

Maybe it’s my last meal.

“Get ready to run,” he whispers urgently.

The door creaks open, and I lift my head, but he’s already gone.

Did he say run?

The door stands wide open, and sunlight streams in, but I can’t make myself move a muscle.

Last night the men all took turns, and the horrors they inflicted on me drove me to the brink of insanity. The terror that’s been embedded in every inch of me keeps me rooted to the spot.

I hear gravel crunching under a heavy footfall, and then a dark figure appears in the doorway, making me instinctively recoil.

“Please,” I whimper brokenly.

Yes, I’m begging for the scraps of my worthless life.

I don’t know how many times I’ve said that word in the last five days. Please. Please. Please.

They’ve degraded me until all that’s left of me is… a beggar, pleading for the shreds of my life scattered around me.


Tags: Michelle Heard Dark