“What if you despise that man? What then, baby?” He couldn’t look at her. Losing her was too close.
“What if I love you more than ever, Savage? What if you love me more than ever? What if our bond is so strong, so unbreakable, no one can ever tear us apart?”
She had an answer for everything, but then she was an angel and she’d never visited hell before. She was about to begin her descent.
“I talked a little bit about this to you earlier, baby.” He didn’t hide his reluctance to expand his explanation. “Sorbacov took us from our parents when we were just kids. I was a toddler. Two, three, I don’t know. My two older sisters and Reaper. They murdered my parents right in front of us. Sorbacov stood there with this half smile on his face and his gold pocket watch in his palm while his soldiers killed my mother and father and took us from everything we knew. I’ll never forget that smile as long as I live.”
Seychelle’s fingers were on his scalp, massaging in the way that she did. Soothing him. Keeping him grounded. He was grateful for that. He rarely allowed himself to go back to that place and those times.
“My hair is blond and really thick. Worse, it’s curly. It grows in spiral curls all over my head. It has since I was born. Let’s just say I was unusual enough that I caught the eye of Sorbacov. He was a fuckin’ pedophile who loved little boys. Really young boys. And I had a headful of blond curls. My father ran a military school, and by all accounts, he and my mother, who was a linguist and scientist, were listened to by most of the very prominent people in the region. They opposed Sorbacov’s candidate for the presidency, so they had to be removed. The fact that I had a brother and two sisters—all the better.”
The bitter taste in his mouth was all too familiar. He knew he was going back there in spite of his determination never to do it. He tightened his grip with one arm around her thigh and with the other began a slow slide up and down her left leg, trying to ground himself.
“They took our clothes and threw us down into a basement. There were chains on the wall. There were other children, all naked, and they were filthy, had wounds on them, all over their bodies. There were three factions down there. Czar was the youngest and only had a couple of kids with him, but Reaper was insistent we choose him. It was terrifying down there. I didn’t understand what they were telling Reaper and my sisters, but pretty soon men came and dragged my sisters up the stairs. Then they came for Reaper and me. Sorbacov was waiting. I could hear Reaper screaming. I could hear my sisters screaming. Sorbacov kept smiling that smile and petting my hair. He told me I’d better be nice to him and do what he wanted or he’d make my brother and sisters suffer. Then he raped me over and over.”
He didn’t look up, but he knew she wept. His woman. He had known she would. She had compassion. Empathy. It was a long time ago, but he was still that toddler. He’d been taken back to the basement, bloody and naked, to find his brother in bad shape. His sisters were thrown down the stairs, both of them, twisted, bloody and broken. Dying. He told Seychelle. Whispered it against her thighs. How they died. Who killed them. The pedophiles who delighted in torturing and murdering little girls. He forced himself to continue.
“Sorbacov got bored with his toys. He liked to see them hurt. He had friends who really loved to hurt little girls and boys, so he invited them to party with him. They had whips. They would take turns tying us up and taking the skin off our backs, me and a little girl, and then they’d rape us. All three of them. Sorbacov and his two friends. I was a little older by that time. Czar had begun to recruit more members and teach us how to survive in that hellhole. The basement was divided into three factions, like gangs, and even down there we had to work to survive. No matter where we were, it was always a fight.”
He reached up and pressed her hand deeper into his skull, telling her silently she needed to continue her scalp massage. Immediately she complied, her fingers working her magic, easing some of the terrible tension building and building until he thought he had a volcano inside of him.
“The problem was I wouldn’t cry in front of them, and they wanted me crying. They wanted me screaming. I fought back. Every time, I fought back. Knowing they would beat me more or whip me more, I still fought them. They thought that was great fun. I didn’t realize for a long time I was adding to their enjoyment. By the time I knew, I didn’t care. I was getting stronger. I worked out in the basement. Pull-ups. Push-ups. Push-ups with the girls—Lana and Alena—on my back. Every exercise Czar could think of, we did.”