SABLE
“It’s our one-month anniversary,”my uncle says from the head of the table in our family’s favorite vacation home. A spot that always belonged to my father. “One whole month ofbliss.” He stresses the word in a way that makes my skin crawl.
When my father told me that it was our time to die, that the world left behind for us wasn’t worth living in, I wonder if he knew this would be part of that fate. My own uncle, my kidnapper, obsessed with the idea of fucking and owning me. I don’t know why the police haven’t come. Lines of their tape still cover the door, but the glowing lights inside don’t garner anyone’s attention? But deep down, I know Uncle Carl has paid them off with my father’s own money.
The longer I go without speaking, the angrier he gets. He cuts into his own piece of meat with a violence that suggests that if I don’t please him, I might be next. I pick up my knife just to avoid more of his childish tantrums and the inevitable retribution that follows. I try to eat, but my stomach turns, my disgust threatening to empty the meager contents. He hasn’t fed me much in the last few weeks, always offering his cum as a source of nutrition, and despite how hungry I am, the food isn’tappealing. I put the smallest bite in my mouth, and his hand comes crashing down on the table.
“So you don’t fucking like this either!” he rages. The knife flies past my head, and I squeal in pure thoughtless terror. My fear excites him and enrages him, like it always does. He grabs another knife from his setting and flings that. This time, my fear excites him rather than his rage. Tears burst into my eyes, rolling over my cheeks. I can’t be expected to hold it all in when he’s literally throwing knives at me. He licks his lips, my tears adding even more enjoyment to this for him.
“You asked for this, Sable,” he grits as his hand slides into his pants and pulls out his already hard cock. I’m sick that I’ve seen it enough now to be familiar with it, and unsurprised by the sounds of his moans. My skin crawls, and I hate myself more than I ever thought possible for getting in that car as he works his cock up and down.
I choke the bile back because the last time I puked, he only liked it and climaxed faster.Our one-month anniversary.Thirty days he’s kept me locked up in our lakehouse, surrounded by memories that should make me happy, but instead he’s tarnished every one. Every day I’ve been here, the rooms shrink by leaps and bounds, and whatever peace I once found here dissolves.
“Choose me, Sable,” he says as he rubs himself, but I won’t even look at him.
“I’d rather die.”
“Your father already tried that and failed, and now you’re here with me.” That hurts, a stinging blow that brings another hot path of tears, but my father never wanted to see anything like this happen to me. Everything he said before he took me off that bridge is starting to make so much more sense.
“You’re going to choose me eventually. It doesn’t matter how many times I have to do this. I enjoy it every time.”
I’d choose Bellthorn every time, even after everything that happened in that castle. It was stupid to leave, impulsive, but I never thought my uncle was watching me this whole time. That much is clear now. He was always there, waiting for the perfect opportunity, and I gave him that moment when I crossed those gates.
“I’m afraid we’ll die here like the rest of the family,” I tell him sincerely. “Because I’ll never choose you.”
His eyes narrow down to slits. I shouldn’t make him angry, but I don’t have the stomach to pretend. I can’t let him think for a moment he’ll ever win. He stands, a familiar look in his eyes, and I know something terrible is coming my way. He leaves his side of the table behind and comes to stand beside me. I refuse to turn, look, or acknowledge him in any way when his dick is inches from my face, and I know exactly what he’s doing with it.
“Look at me,” he says, carefully enunciating each word and infusing them with a threat. I don’t even move a centimeter, let alone look at him.
His hands are too smooth, but they’re rough as hell as one shoots out and grabs my chin. Tight fingers put painful pressure on my jaw as he forces my face toward him. He can’t make me look at him, though, and I close my eyes as fast as I can to steal whatever enjoyment I can from him in this situation. If he shoves it in my mouth, I will bite it off, but I think he knows that because he doesn’t even try. A low groan sounds in the back of his throat, and hot, sickening cum shoots out, covering my face and chest.
It’s all I can do to keep my mouth and eyes shut as he squeezes brutally and streams keep shooting onto me. I can’t help it. I throw up right at his feet, staining the designer shoes he stole from my father’s closet.
“You look so pretty covered in my cum, Sable,” he finally says before tossing me a cloth napkin and taking his seat. I wipe whatI can of his cum off me, and force myself not to sob as he finishes his dinner, full of a dark glee I can never hope to understand.
When he’s done, he walks me back to the bedroom I always slept in whenever we came here. Instead of a beautiful princess’s escape, it’s now my cage. The biggest difference between then and now are the streaks of his cum, marking the floor like some disgusting calendar to denote the passage of time. “I know you didn’t like it, Saysay.” He uses the nickname they sometimes called me when I was little as he pushes me inside. “But you were such a good little girl letting me cover you in my cum.”
I walk deeper into the room just to put distance between us. Every part of me burns with rage and my need to argue. I didn’t let him do that. I would never choose any of the things he’s done since he took me. But I realize he’s goading me, and the more I fight back, the more he can justify the sick things he wants to do to me.
“I don’t like it,” I agree. And while I know he got a sick thrill out of that, at least I can say, I never told him I wanted it.
Uncle Carl stares a little longer, and I fear he has something wicked up his sleeves, but he finally leaves me alone, banging the door after him. A sob of relief and pent-up tension flows out of me as I run to the bathroom to get this nasty shit off me. I turn the shower up as hot as it will go and rub my skin until it’s raw, but it doesn’t help anything. I’m at least six hours from Bellthorn, and the guys never cared that much to begin with, but I still find myself stupidly hoping they’ll save me. All those admissions we shared seem so silly now.
Pictures from a long-forgotten life line the wall of the closet as I get dressed in old clothes that don’t fit me. Mom is young here, holding her first baby, who she never expected to become a whore. There’s some mutual disappointment between us. My mother was never exactly what I wanted her to be, and now I’ve returned that favor. Sometimes she was so cruel her wordswould rip my heart out, but I’ve never needed anything so much as I need her at this moment. She wouldn’t let this happen to me. Would she?
She should never have died at the hands of the man she loved, but I suppose there is some mercy in her never witnessing how far I would fall. I sit on the bed, suffocating inside the little girl’s nightgown. My fingers dig into the fabric, a subtle pink with swirls of flowers, an understated sense of girlhood that I’ll never manage to feel again. An innocent hand chose this, one that hadn’t been tossed and used every way possible.
One nailed-shut window points out over the lake, and as I stare at the water, I decide there’s no way in hell I’m dying here. If I’m dying, I’m dying on my terms.
CHAPTER 11
SOREN
“It’s time to go,”Hadrian says from the doorway. “I’ve got the address.”
Arabella and her friends seem to have gone from haunting my every waking moment to entirely gone. We haven’t been able to find her or any of the girls she usually hangs around with. She either turned off the number or blockedmethis time. We’re not entirely sure the text message was her, but the fact she’s suddenly gone doesn’t lend to her innocence. Where did she suddenly run off to?
“For the car?” I ask, not really knowing what I’m even asking about, just that he hasn’t shut up about it in days. This damn pink car apparently means so much to him. I don’t get why he thinks this is going to help us find Sable, especially given he got the information from the devil herself, but frankly, I haven’t asked either.
