I don’t know how many hours Dad has spent exploiting her. Sometimes I question whether he killed his wife just to get Clemmie all to himself. Nothing would surprise me with him. I want to turn his face into a bloody pulp and smash him out of existence, just like the corpse in the trunk of my car. It can rot in there until tomorrow. I had to come back inside to watch over Clemmie. I had no choice.
Then, something is wrong.
I sense it instantly.
No one else does. They are leering at her like she’s an animal in a zoo. She’s nothing but a spectacle to devour and dispose of.
“Daddy, I...” This is the first time I’ve seen Clemmie hesitate or object. This is a place with no limits, but her voice wavers. “I’m...”
Her tone is pleading, desperate. She is no longer the horny sex-loving maniac, but she sounds scared and fragile. Father’s face contorts with rage. She’s embarrassing him in front of the guests, and he’ll make sure she pays for it later.
After fucking her ass raw, he orders the guests to get in line. He’ll let them fuck her one by one. They get to choose which hole. Clemmie is a walking sex toy. A breathing doll, just like the rest of his gadgets.
Clemmie isn’t moaning now. As their primal instincts kick in, the others sense her shift, making them want to fuck her harder. I can’t watch this anymore. I can’t stand by and let this happen.
The other parties have been different. Clemmie has always been in control of what she’s doing. She seemed to enjoy it, however misguided, but this is different. I can’t let it happen. Dad is punishing her for questioning him, and judging by the tent in his pants, her degradation is turning him on.
My anger reaches boiling point.
I storm through to the basement entrance, where a guard is blocking the door.
He looks up from a clipboard. “Name?”
“This is my fucking house!” I blast, trying to shoulder past him. The guard is three times my size. “Let me through!”
He blocks my path. “You’re not on the list.”
“I don’t give a fuck if I’m not on your stupid list!” I spit. “Move out of my fucking way.”
He pulls a gun out of his back pocket and presses the barrel into my forehead.
“Your father gave me strict instructions,” he snarls. “It doesn’t matter who you are. Shoot first, questions later.”
He wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull the trigger on the host’s son, right? Clemmie needs my help. I want to tell her everything is going to be okay. Maybe now she’ll finally understand what I’ve been trying to say to her for months and leave with me the next time I ask.
THWACK!
The butt of the gun rams into the side of my head.
“You fucker!” I stagger on my feet.
My thoughts are filled with images of Clemmie bent over and needing to be saved, but everything is swimming.
My knees hit the floor, and everything goes black.
CHAPTER8
Clemmie
I holda towel-wrapped bag of frozen vegetables between my legs and sigh in relief. That’ll help the swelling go down fast. My body aches like I’ve been hit by a train.
Daddy sits on the edge of my bed and watches me eat the special breakfast he prepared. Pancakes and maple syrup. My favorite.
“You know the rules, Clementine,” Daddy says. “If you behaved, things would have turned out differently.”
The sweet flavor turns bitter on my tongue.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say, putting down my cutlery. My stomach is in knots over disappointing him, and I don’t have much of an appetite. “It won’t happen again.”