She nods like she understands. I take that as a good sign.
“Are you ready? Remember this is all your choice. We can turn around and leave anytime. I’m right here with you.”
Another nod. “Yes. I’m ready.”
I punch in the code and open the door, setting eyes upon my captive. He is completely naked, his hair is grown out, and his body is beaten, and so thin his bones are visible. His face has changed the most. Without any teeth, his lips are sunk in, in an odd way. His eyes are almost swollen shut, and his forehead is caked with blood and something that looks like cum.
I’ve told Rick and Bruno to do the most fucked-up things they can think of and looking at Matteo’s face and the large blood-covered dildo on the floor, I think they’ve delivered more than I could’ve hoped for.
To no surprise, it seems the fight has left him—he sits in the corner of his bare room, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. I’ve never seen a man look as whipped. His eyes are blank, staring straight ahead into nothing.
He barely resembles the person he used to be, but Aspen recognizes him. “Oh, my god.” She falls back half a step, and I place what I hope is a comforting hand on her waist. Her breathing quickens. “He’s still alive?”
“I wanted to save him for you.” Right now, she is my only concern. “Are you all right?”
Her head bobs up and down after a moment’s hesitation. “Fine.” It’s the way she says it, the flatness in her voice, the coldness as she scans the room. There’s not much to look at. It’s pretty empty besides a bloody dildo lying in one corner. I turn to Matteo, who’s less than a shadow of his former self. I’m thrilled to see it. He barely stirs. Staring at the wall, he licks his cracked, parched lips.
“Did you get fucked in the ass, Matteo? How was it? Judging by all the blood, not pleasant. We should have taken a video to keep… but really no one wants to see that.”
Matteo still doesn’t react, almost like he has gone somewhere in his mind, drowning the misery around him out.
“You have visitors, fuckhead.” I go to him, take him by his greasy hair, and jerk his head back so I can look him in the eye. “You haven’t greeted my wife. I take that as an offense.” I release his hair and give his head a shove.
He blinks rapidly before glancing at Aspen, who hasn’t moved.
“That’s okay.” Aspen takes her first steps into the room, moving slowly. There’s something about her I can’t put my finger on. I know her so well, I can normally sense her mood and know what she’s thinking. Not today. Today she is unpredictable. Was it the right move, bringing her here?
She comes to a stop at my side, standing over Matteo. “He doesn’t need to speak to me. I would rather he didn’t. He said plenty the last time we were together. I was hoping I would never have to hear his voice again.”
“We can go.”
“No.” Her eyes meet mine for an instant before returning to him. Her fists are clenched. She’s shaking. “No, I needed this. One final link, one more reminder of what we lost and what I survived.”
She kicks Matteo’s leg. “Did you hear me, you piece of shit? You raping, murdering piece of shit? You killed my baby that night. You almost killed me. Have you had plenty of time to think about that in this cell? In the middle of nowhere? Or do you even possess the self-reflection to look back on the things you’ve done?”
He only groans, turning his face toward the wall. His spirits have truly been broken. When I think back on what an arrogant, self-assured person he used to be, it’s almost exhilarating.
“What do you want to do with him?” I ask, turning to my wife. “He can stay here the rest of his life, however long that might be. I have men guarding him and dealing with him whenever he becomes rowdy.”
I throw him a withering look, and he closes his eyes. “Though between you and me, he’s lost a lot of his fight. It takes a while for him to learn his lessons, but he does eventually learn them.”
“I could leave him here and know every day he’s suffering?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you can ask for daily reports. I have no doubt the men would be glad to provide them.”
She appears to be thinking it over. What would be the worst punishment? Death, or living the rest of his life this way? He’s a young man. He could spend decades here.
When she turns and leaves the room, I’m almost sure it’s because she can no longer handle the situation. My heart sinks. I shouldn’t have subjected her to this.