All while Harry stares expressionlessly at me, his cold gaze lingering before finally breaking away to look at Ronnie. A heavy silence fills the room, hanging like a thick fog. The pungent smell of the boiled egg mixed with the earthy scent of mildew suffocates me. The banana is half-eaten now, the water untouched. Ronnie’s hands tremble violently as she tries to finish the last bite.
“No,” he replies after what feels like an eternity. His voice is quiet yet firm, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. “We don’t want an incestual baby. This is the only way.”
The finality in his tone sends a fresh wave of dread washing over me. Priscilla’s smile returns, cold and cruel, as she reaches out to my face. Sick motherfuckers, they’re enjoying this… They desire us. This isn’t just about a baby. This is about using us. It’s okay if this is what she wants. Then she could have it. It will be a mistake that will cost them. That I promise.
I lock eyes with Priscilla and begin to unbuckle my pants. Wasting no time, this is what we are here for. I’ll behave if it keeps him from hurting her. I don’t tear my eyes from her, not because I find her attractive. It’s more like a sick observation, noticing she’s much younger than Harry, and despite it all, she’s a beautiful woman. Not as beautiful as mine, but enough to make me question why the fuck is she married to the oger besides her.
Priscilla’s reaction is instant; her breath hitches as she watches me pull out my flaccid cock. I smirk, feeling my lifeless cock in my hand. It’s gonna take a miracle to get it to work. Gripping the base of my softened dick, I slowly move my hand up and down on my shaft, seemingly captivating her attention.
“You want this cock?” I ask, my voice low and husky with some perverse sense of triumph. Repulsion takes hold of me, screaming to be felt, but I ignore it. I make the grave mistake of glancing over at Ronnie. Who meets my gaze with a mix of confusion and disappointment, and I instantly regret it. The look on her face is foreign to me. I hate it, but right now, I can’t let myself care, not now. She can hate me. As long as I can keep her safe, I’ll go along with their plan. Looks are my only weapon in this situation; plus, I’m used to unwanted touch. Because any touch that’s not from Ronnie is not welcome—she’s the only exception. This is how I get us out. My eyes lower, the erection finally taking shape in my hand. I hope he hates every minute of this. A grin appears on my lips, and I mutter, “You want a baby? Come fucking work for it.”
Priscilla’s eyes flare with a wild, animalistic desire. “May I?” She looks up at her husband, who is now as pale as a ghost, watching his wife drool at the hot piece of ass in front of her.
Slowly, he gives a slight nod of agreement. It is not a decision made freely, but rather out of a desperate need to maintain control of whatever is left. His face is a grim mask that belies the turmoil within. Too bad I can’t hide the disgust that morphs into my features.
Everything blurs around her, except the image of Ronnie. She’s the only thing I focus on. She’s the light at the end of this dark-ass tunnel. The tension in the room is palpable, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Dread coils around my spine, shame tugs at my heart, and instead of warmth, it’s disgust that gathers in my core. Even though I'm repulsed by her and what she represents, my body plays along just as I will it to. The urge to kick her off becomes harder and harder to keep away. The closer she gets, the more the feeling grows. Then her mouth closes around my cock, and I recoil into my mind.
The shock of it all sends me into another place, disconnecting me entirely from myself. My body. This is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s wrong, and no matter how much I want it to all go away. It doesn’t. A small voice beckons me to the light. “Iz.” That's all it takes. That small and broken plea strengthens my resolve. Slamming me back to my prison. Making sure to use my free hand to hold her.
If she fucking wants it, she can suffer for it.
My gaze zeroes in on Ronnie, who watches with a tortured expression, her face pale as she clenches her hands into tight fists. My vision blurs again, so I blink over and over until there’s no more sting. I fight to hold the vomit that quickly climbs up my throat. I know it is hurting her to see this, but there is no going back. Not now. Harry looks away, a small victory on my board. It’s already working.Division. Priscilla is nothing but a woman deprived of love. Oftouch. I didn’t have to use my words to lie, only my body. I’ll use it to sell her the illusion of a future. And once she’s in the palm of my hands, I’ll free my girl, and I’ll crush them both.
Without a word, she turns to me, placing both hands against the wall, bracing herself as she sinks onto me. The feeling can only be compared to being severely drunk. Your stomach is churning, and the room is spinning. You want to move, yet you can’t. Anger burns through me, but I push through it all. I have to for Ronnie. My arm snakes around her waist, and I push into her, holding her waist before pumping into her. Making sure each is more painful than the last. Shegrimaces as her hands grip me to stop me. I want to hurt her as much as he hurt Vero, but all I’m doing is killing myself.
Harry clears his throat as the sounds of sex spill into the silent room. I feel Priscilla’s walls pulse around me with each violent thrust, each one a dagger to my heart. To my soul. My eyes drift towards the silence, there she is. The love of my life has an impassive facade on her face. One that’s beginning to crack, I know it won’t be long before the dam bursts and lets out all the desolation she has been holding back.
Still, she meets my gaze, willing me to stay with her. Before turning into a question. “Why do we have to bear this?”
It hangs in the air, unspoken yet clearly understood between us. The look in Ronnie’s eyes tells me everything. The emptiness, the disgust, the defiance—all laid bare for me to see. In response, I can only offer a silent, sorrowful apology with my eyes. A mute plea for forgiveness. This is not what I want for us. I can only promise to get us out of here. I just need an opening.
Priscilla’s claw-like grip tightens on my forearm as her body shudders above me, the climax of her pleasure reaching its peak. Yet, I feel removed, detached from the act itself. My body is merely a vessel, performing mechanically. I feel the bile rise within me as my own body reaches its peak and spills inside Priscilla. My orgasm takes me by surprise, a quick and brutal end to my part in this macabre puppet show. Priscilla lets out a low moan, her nails cutting deep tracks into my flesh as she writhes. The pain is a welcome distraction from this shame, gutting me from the inside.
Ronnie turns away. The stoic mask she’s worn through this finally shatters, fragments of raw pain scattering across her face. My heart shatters with hers, the pieces of our dignity and self-worth ground to dust beneath their perverse acts. When it’s all said and done, I’m left sitting on the ground, hearing movements that my eyes don’t track. I hear the door open and close. Followed by stillness.
Once again, we are left here in the basement in silence and reeling from the horrors that have unfolded. I pull myself off the floor, my legs nearly collapsingunder me, but I manage to stand and relieve myself in the bucket. Hearing the soft sniffles coming from Ronnie, I didn't turn towards her; I couldn’t have. In no time, nausea stirs deep in my gut, collapsing me onto my knees and puking into the bucket. The room seems to close in around me, the air heavy and putrid.
It takes me a moment to recover and be able to face her. When I turn, Ronnie is still curled up on the floor, a crumpled figure that barely resembles the spirited girl I fell in love with. My hand reaches out as if I could touch her. She’s so close yet so far.
I can’t bear the quiet. When I open my mouth to speak, Ronnie breaks the silence. “Is this the only way to survive this… by giving in?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I honestly don’t know.”
Chapter Eighteen
Veronica
“Ithink…” Iz swallows hard, his body swaying with the night breeze. Is he okay? I wonder for a moment. My brows furrow together as I inch closer, already noticing the split lip and the bruises blooming on his jaw. He's been fighting and, by the smell of it, drinking. My nose twitches from the strong scent of liquor that drifts with the wind. “You’re hurt,” is all I can muster to say because I don’t want to know what he thinks. He shrugs, almost falling to the side. “I’m always hurt, Ronnie,” Isaac deadpans, his words more slurred than anything as he leans closer, our eyes fixed on each other. “Always.”
Me too! I want to shout back, but instead I bite down on the inside of my cheek and tuck myself beneath his arm. “No, Ronnie. I’m fine…” he begins to protest when I toss his arm over my shoulder to better balance his weight. “I can.”
“It’s okay… Let me help you.” Reluctantly, he gives in, and we step inside our quiet home. If our parents catch him like this, he will be in so much trouble. And I just can’t bear it. It’s been nonstop lately. Thankfully, my mom and his dad should be asleep by now. Nixie has kept them up with fever the last few nights, so tonight they crashed pretty early. Which is good. My stepfather would have hated to see him like this. I can already hear him saying. “Maldita sea1, Isaac. What’s happening to you?” All while Iz turns away, unable to face him. It made my heart hurt watching him self-destruct and not being able to do anything. I’m just a bystander in hisdestruction.
My eyes flutter open, slowly adjusting to the darkness that surrounds me. I don’t remember falling asleep. All I know is, one moment I closed my eyes and the next I’m waking up with a deep ache between my shoulders. My eyes feel swollen and heavy, and my gaze moves to the spot in front of me. Iz is fast asleep, which is good. Sometimes when I wake up from a nightmare, he’s sitting up watching me with a tortured look on his face. I roll onto my back, not being able to stomach lookingat him. I’m not mad at him—not necessarily; however, there’s something festering. Something I can’t quite name. No matter how badly I try to conjure a memory to hold on to, I’m only reminded of what occurred this morning, catapulting me back to reality. I shift to my side, laying my head over my arms as my gaze lands on Isaac, who thankfully continues to sleep. The small stream of moonlight illuminates his face, and using my finger, I trace his side profile. Wishing I could feel the warmth of his skin, instead of the cold of the ground. It was my favorite thing to do on the nights he would sneak into my room.
A sigh escapes my lips as my finger stops mid-trace, lingering in the air before I pull back, balling my hand into a fist. Rage bubbles inside me as I move a shaky hand to my womb. Not only have we been kidnapped and raped, but soon, I will also be forced to carry a child. A child I don’t want… a child born from rape. I have never even thought about being a mother.Fuck.
Willing the thoughts away before they can smother me, I rip my hand away from my center, a soft groan escapes my mouth when I shift. The pain from sleeping on the ground has my body tense in places I didn’t know existed. How I wish I was back in my bed, I promise to never complain about a lumpy mattress. A pained whimper slips past my lips, as I bite back the sob threatening to wrack my body. The sound wakes Isaac from his sleep. “Ronnie?” he groans, his voice thick with sleep as he sits up using his elbows for support.
