There’s some relief in her eyes when she’s forced to jump back, a silent thank you passing through our glances. Desperation makes people stupid. We both know that. Still, we allow our defiance to trick us into thinking we can actually stopwhat’s happening. Ramirez stomps on my ankle, shattering the bones—all to prove that we can’t.
“Fuck him. I’m not going to tell you again!” he shouts over my wails, spit flying from his mouth while the vein in his forehead threatens to explode.
Clara wastes no more time falling between my legs and taking hold of my limp dick.
“Stop!” I cry, unsure if it’s from the pain or how much I don’t want this. All Clara says is, “It’s okay”and“I’m so sorry” repeatedly until I’m stiff in her palm and easy to slide onto. I can’t stop my groans as she rocks back and forth, and she can’t stop her tears.
Culver laughs, “Look at her go. She’s had some practice by now, obviously.” At that moment, that becomes the hardest thing to bear—the pure anguish in her eyes.
Pain becomes a secondary thing, as do the guns pointed at my face. I push it all behind me while I fight to rise from my current position. No one expects it then, so all the guards can say is, “Whoa! Whoa!” before I sit up to flip Clara underneath me. I have her facing me initially, with her back pressed against the carpet, but then she looks up at me with her wide, watery eyes, and I can’t fucking take it.
My shoulder screams when I flip her back around, but I’ll take it if it means we don’t have to stare at each other. The memory of this will be enough to ruin us, but I won’t add to it by making her look at me.
Even though every part of my body begs me to stop moving, I drive myself into her from behind, rutting loud enough to drown out all other sounds.
Her tears come through, though.
Mine and hers, both.
Cade
It goes on for hours until we’re both spent and numb. When we’re empty of all fluids, I get a break, but they force Clara to continue. The first time my cock refused to rise, they strapped me to a chair and forced me to watch as Hannidy took her.
Then they sicced her on me again.
When I can’t keep it up, Culver takes over. Though he fails miserably with his stub of a cock. The Clara I know shines through at that moment, but her taunting results in her first beating of the night. My intervention gets me my third. Thankfully, no one shoots me or breaks any more bones, but I can’t walk. I can hardly move.
Ramirez is the last to take his turn on her, and it’s the most brutal of the two. Every hole she has, he takes with ferocity. Wet or dry, he rips Clara in two, throwing her on the ground beside me when he’s finally finished with her.
My eyes are swollen shut, but I don’t need my vision to understand what he’s doing to me. Hot globs of come splatter across my face, followed by the heavy wetness of his spit. “Hope you had a good time tonight, champ!”
The three of them leave us soiled on the ground, the door slamming shut on their boisterous laughter. With them goneand silence finally setting in, the smells hit me. Blood, sweat, and come suffocate my already strangled airways, but I can’t escape them.
In all the time I’ve been here, I thought I had gotten accustomed to the irony aroma, but this… this is different. The metal in the air reminds me of rusted poles or freshly cut copper, but with my eyes closed, I can imagine a much grislier scene.
Before my sight went blank, all I saw was Clara, her body still, lying sprawled on the cold ground. Her body was a shattered version of itself, displaying all sorts of evidence of the savage beating she had endured. Visions of her swollen and misshapen face assault the dark spots behind my eyes. Spit and blood streaked across her flesh. Her eyes were barely open, and she had a dazed, distant stare.
With a strangled gasp splitting my lips wide, I compel my eyes to open. It isn’t much. With the swelling, I can barely get a slit, but it’s enough to take in the room’s emptiness and my friend lying beside me.
“C-Clara?” I can barely recognize my own voice. It’s never been so unsteady and strained. “Cl-Clara?” With great effort, I roll onto my side, using my only functioning arm to push myself onto my knees. There’s so much pain radiating throughout every part of my body that I barely register my ankle ballooning when I sit on my heels. “Clara?”
Fear begins bubbling in my gut when I’m met with no response. Taking in Clara’s still form, I wait to see her chest rising and falling, but my gaze keeps flitting back to her face. Her lips are completely busted open, the end result of being savagely torn apart by fists and teeth. A dark red pool of blood seeps from her mouth, staining her ivory skin to the carpet beneath them.
As I look around, blood speckles everywhere. It has spread across the floor, slick and glistening, pooling around both of us in a deep, inky maroon stain, as if the ground itself is absorbingthe brutality that just occurred. The metallic scent of blood continues to fill the air, piercing and overpowering, a pungent reminder of the violence we continue to endure. The once-peaceful room I was so shocked to come into is now marked with the evidence of broken objects, overturned furniture, and ruined clothing.
The silence in the room quickly becomes suffocating, but the sound of labored, shallow breathing, escaping from Clara’s chest, breaks the anxiety wrapping around my throat.
“Ca-Ca-Cade.”
“He-Hey!Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay!” I speak in rapid, relieved gasps while she struggles to remain conscious. “You’re okay! You’re okay!” I can’t stop fucking repeating it. Whether it's for her or me, I’m unsure, but they are the only words that my mind will allow me to speak. They become a sort of mantra for me, a motivational tactic. “You’re okay.” It becomes a goal, a promise I intend to keep.
Gritting my teeth, I wrap my good arm around the back of Clara’s neck and attempt to throw her limp body over my shoulder. It doesn’t work the first few times. Growing unsteady and weak, with sweat mingling with the blood in my eyes, I hunch over and try again. “It’s okay! It’s okay!” I quickly wheeze when Clara releases a whimpering groan, but I’m finally successful.
It's okay.
It’s okay.
It’s okay. This time, I repeat it internally, building myself up to stand on my shattered ankle to get Clara into the bedroom.
