“I really do hope you like them.”
“Thank you, Amanda.” He set the cheeses in the basket and then pushed the cart away, pressing the phone to his ear.
“Amanda.” Marcus huffed. “Maybe I’ll take her and bring her up here. See what she can teach me about cheese while I—”
“The answer is no.”
“What the fuck, Anthony? Are you really protecting that cunt?” He laughed. “She sounded young, was she pretty? Is that the deal, you want her for yourself after you’re done with Beth?”
“I want her to be here so that this hovel of a store continues to carry decent cheeses. If you do something without my permission, there will be consequences.” He kept his voice hushed as he paused near the bagged lettuce, but his brother knew he did not make idle threats and Marcus’ laughter wound down to a growl.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m one of the slaves.”
“Then don’t act out like one.” Anthony got in line, ready to be out of the presence of so many squalling children and chattering people. “Have you made progress on your house?”
“I just woke up an hour ago.”
“Well, then perhaps you should get to work instead of interfering with mine. I was doing this before you were even aware.”
“I know, asshole. You don’t have to keep pointing it out, I think I’ve more than proven I’ve got my own set of skills.” Marcus mumbled under his breath, and Anthony decided he was done with this coddling session.
“We’ll see how you handle this new enterprise before we make any real judgments on your skills.”
“You’re just afraid I’m better at this than you.” Marcus was angry. Throwing a temper tantrum like he had when they were children and he’d lost an unknown number of games of checkers.
All emotion, no strategy.
“We will see,” was Anthony’s only reply before he ended the call. Stacking the various items on the automatic belt, he reminded himself to stop at the pharmacy to get the girl’s pills, and then he would return to see if her attitude had improved.
7
Her teeth were chattering, and even curled into a ball on the floor Beth couldn’t manage to concentrate her body heat enough to stop shivering. The thin layer of water atop the concrete seemed to sap the warmth from the air as well as her skin, and just the existence of this horrible room confirmed how screwed she was.
Normal people didn’t have rooms set several inches into the floor so water could pool half an inch deep. They didn’t have hoses installed inside, or steel brackets embedded in the floor for chaining girls by leather collars. Collars locked closed with a tiny version of the padlock that kept the chain fixed in place.
Another set of shivers shook her, making her curl up tighter, as far away from the bracket in the floor as the chain allowed. It didn’t make it easier. Beth still couldn’t believe she was in this place. This room. This house. Couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong, what misstep she’d made that had brought her to him. She couldn’t even remember him taking her. There was a hole in her memory even after the drugs had completely left her system.
She remembered leaving work, walking down the same sidewalk she always did. Heading towards the public lot they shared with several other companies, and then — nothing. Absolutely nothing until she’d woken up on that bed.
But at least the bed had been soft, and warmer than this nightmare room.
Trying to sleep on concrete all night had been almost impossible, and she was sure it was only the physical exhaustion, her body wrung out by pain and fear, that had eventually made her pass out.
And then the motherfucker had woken her up with the fucking hose. Cold water blasting her at full pressure.
Are you ready to be obedient, he’d asked. Stoic, standing several feet away so the spray bouncing off her skin wouldn’t reach him.
Beth had told him to go to hell, and he had left, leaving the hose running on the floor to slowly fill the room. An icy puddle turned into a pool, spreading, eventually touching her skin no matter how she skittered back from it. Inching its way across the concrete until it had crept into every corner.
She had no idea how long he was gone, but he returned in a clean button down and slacks, which did not match the tall rubber boots on his feet. When he’d finally turned off the water she had already been cold, but that wasn’t the worst part of this nightmare room.
It was the electric shock that moved through the water whenever he touched something on his phone.
Blinding pain, the air ripped from her lungs on a scream, unable to draw another breath until he stopped it. She’d earned two more shocks in those first hours. One for telling him to go fuck himself, and the second for staying silent when he’d told her to recite the rules.
Whining, freezing, sore — he had towered over her, breathing evenly, while she panted and chaos tore cohesive thoughts to shreds.
You should think over your decisions, slave. His last words before he’d walked out. Left her in this fucking concrete room, with the A/C running, soaking wet and unable to even push up onto all fours because the chain was too fucking short.