Men laughing and clanking their glasses together, the sound of skin slapping and poker chips being tossed. It all rings through my ears.
Once my bottle is empty, I ask for another. I’m deep in my head when a hand grips my shoulder.
“How’s it going, brother? You having a good time?” Troy asks, sitting down next to me, but I shrug his hand off.
“Not your brother. And what do you honestly think, Troy? Is being in a place like this fun for me? I kill men like this for a living. Men like you.” I bring the bottle to my lips and take another swig, trying to keep my cool before I hit him over the head with it.
“I think you’re worried about Brielle, but you shouldn’t be, Emris. I’ve been taking good care of her,” he whispers in my ear as he stands.
I don’t think as my beer bottle crashes against his head, and he drops to the ground. I straddle him, my fist connecting with his nose. Troy screams but doesn’t try to fight back. He only grips his face as he sobs. Two hands pull me from him, and I go willingly this time.
“You even so much breathe the same air as her again, I’ll slit your throat and watch you bleed out.” I spit at him before turning and walking away. Peter leans back in his chair with a gleam in his eye.
That threat wasn’t only for Troy—it was for Peter too, and he knows it.
49
BRIELLE
A few ofthe girls left, including Delaney. I have no idea where, but she didn’t seem scared. She never does.
From what I’ve gathered, she’s been here for a long time. I know she’s older than me by a few years, but all of this seems normal to her. Like she doesn’t know anything different.
She doesn’t fight or talk back. She just does as they say. The things she has probably been through are more than any average person could go through and still make it out on the other side. I know if she told me even a fraction of what’s happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to handle hearing it.
I haven’t had much time to talk to her or anyone. Most of the girls are too scared to talk, aside from Delaney. The first day I got here, she was the only reason I didn’t completely break down. She talked me down, and for that, I’ll forever be grateful.
This is the first time I feel somewhat normal. No drugs in my system, and no guards touching or shoving me. No one is telling me what to do or where to go. I should be thankful for whatever time I have alone.
My head is resting on my arm as I lie naked on the dirty blanket. The only sound is water dripping from somewhere in the cell, and it gives me something to focus on.
Everything feels distant, like I’m watching a horror movie play out in my head with each passing second, but all that’s left is a dull ache settling in my chest as I mess with the torn material of the blanket. All the guards keep talking and laughing from somewhere close by, continuing with their lives as if what they do for Peter isn’t bad.
Like another day at the office.
Their lives keep going. But me? The women here? We exist in the hollow space between it all.
Knowing Emris is dead sends pain through me—pressing against my ribs, suffocating me, and leaving me feeling weightless. I know he’s no longer hurting here. They can’t hurt him anymore if he’s dead. I just wish I could’ve left with him.
I reach for all the memories I got to share with him, but they slip through my fingers, too sharp and too painful to hold onto for long. I tell myself to keep breathing, and to keep fighting, but the same question keeps popping up in my mind—why should I? What’s left when the person that held me together is gone? My mom? Dead. Dad? Might as well be. Emris? Dead. There’s no one left. No one cares whether I’m okay or not. Maybe Carson, but he probably has no clue what happened.
I know I should feel something more—rage, sorrow, anything that reminds me I’m alive—but all I get is painful silence. A stretching emptiness where my heart used to be.
I don’t like the drugs they give me. I hate that they take any choice away from me. But at least with the drugs running through me, I can go to a faraway place to be with Emris, where we can be together without any of the bullshit we’ve had to face. There’s no pain there. Only us. But as my body wracks with withdrawal, I wish for death. I wish for all this pain and suffering to end, but I don’t get that.
Instead, Susie’s face comes into view. She brings pain and anger whenever she’s around—but also the drugs that will take me to Emris.
I’m takento the same bathroom I went to when I first got here.
“Wash yourself and get clean. Don’t forget to clean that dirty pussy.” The guard snickers. “And hurry the fuck up, nasty slut.”
He said something else, but I’ve already checked out as I wash my hair and body. The feeling of the warm water melts away some of the soreness in my bones from sleeping on that thin mattress that barely qualifies as a bed. The water running off me is gross. Dirt and grime wash away, leaving behind clean skin once again, minus the bruises and cuts that haven’t yet healed.
After I’m done, I stand there and let the water wash over me, not wanting it to end—but when something hits me in the side, I fall to the ground only for the pain to come again.
“I told you once to hurry up. Let’s not make the same mistake again,” he says, pulling me up by my arm and dragging me upward, crowding me to the wall. No one else is in here as he pushes my naked, wet body up against the wall. “But then again, I like causing a pretty little thing like you some pain,” he whispers, pressing his erection into my stomach. I turn my head away when he tries to press his lips to mine, which pisses him off more.
His hand wraps around my throat and lifts me off the floor, only the tips of my toes able to touch the ground. My nails diginto his arm as I try to pry him off, but it doesn’t do anything. He only tightens his grip and rubs himself against me.
