“Fuck you!” the woman screams while the man uses all of his energy to keep her protected.
“Wrong answer, sweet girl. My patience is not endless. Would you prefer a different method to be used to obtain the answer?”
“No one,” the man snaps. “We haven’t seen you. Let us go, it will stay that way. No one will know anything about you.”
“Mr. Mannix, I have no fear where you’re concerned. You destroyed any details of your client’s request to find me. This all ends when you give me a name.”
“There isn’t a client,” he says.
“You took my sister, you sick cunt!” the woman roars while he presses more of his weight against her. “It was me!”
“It wasn’t her,” he rushes out. “I did it! I was looking for you after she told me.”
“Interesting,” Rowan says slowly, genuinely intrigued by them. “You’re protecting her when she’s protecting someone else. Tell me, Mr. Mannix, what is it that makes you think you’re in a position of power?”
The man doesn’t answer.
“Is it due to your need to play God with your siblings’ lives?”
“Fuck you,” he grits.
“Or is it an inadequacy in your own life, so you protect those around you to give you a purpose?”
“Let us fucking go!” the woman screams.
Rowan doesn’t realize they’re protecting each other. He thinks she’s weak because she’s clinging to him, but she crosses her ankles over his bare ass like she knows what Rowan uses as a punishment.
Niko once said everything in the world revolves around sex—apart from sex itself because that’s about power. It was during one of his attempts to broach the topic of what happened while I was locked up. I was too busy thinking about cutting to even think about what he said. I understand it now though. Sex isn’tabout release. It’s about dominance, overpowering someone, taking from them, showing they’re weaker.
It’s why Rowan uses it as a punishment. It’s a different level of torment to know you’re not safe in your own body—the only thing you’ve had since before you were even born has become alien and uncomfortable. He’s intrigued by it just like Lennox said. He’s perfected his punishments so even when the threat isn’t lingering, everyone is still afraid while he stands back, watching the masked guards.
I don’t watch the captives.
I don’t listen to their screams as I mute the speakers.
I watch Rowan. He studied us, Delilah and me, and it’s why he knows how important she is to me. My pretty girl is strong as fuck though. She came up with a plan to befriend Helene. I can’t do that, but I can find this cunt’s weakness to destroy him.
He doesn’t remove his mask, which makes it harder to ignore the violation reflected back to the cameras even though I don’t look at the other screens. He didn’t lift a finger to orchestrate their torture. He wants to be powerful, so powerful he can command everyone around him without having to exert any force. A god complex because if he really was powerful, he wouldn’t have to hide his face.
Even now, years later, he still wields control over me as the woman freezes in the reflection of his mask. She stops fighting, but the man keeps fighting for her. Sweat beads down my spine as I keep the memories at bay by crossing my ankles, pressing the inside of my boot to the new cuts above my ankle.
A-fucking-gain, he has control. Just like I did during the meetings with my lawyer while she played countless videos of Delilah being fucked in every position, spanning years, I apply pressure to the cuts, eager to get back to my cell so I can have another hit.
I’ve left one prison, created one for someone innocent, only to realize it was all fake. It was all lies. Yet, I’m back in a prison. Only, this time, I’m both the tormentor and tormented.
Rather than watch this sick shit, I go back to my room. I left my phone with Kid so he could see the butterflies. Whatever Lennox did to the device means he controls the signal, but he didn’t let me have any access to the outside world after his call with my wife. I can’t even speak to my own wife without aguardallowing it. More proof I’m in prison again.
When I turn the corner leading to my room, I notice the door is ajar and my heart pounds in time with my footsteps. There’s a hollow thud as something stops the door from opening fully when I push my weight against it. Red flows between the small gap under the door as Kid pokes his head around the door with red liquid splattered on his face, his hands, his arms.
“Who the fuck hurt you?” I can’t breathe. All I can see is his small hands covered in blood. Hands that make butterflies while we play charades.
His smile is a little wider today as he looks up at me. “You said no one has to touch me if I don’t want them to?”
“Yeah, that’s right, Kid.” I nod. “Can you move back, please? So I can come inside?”
He nods, quickly jumping backwards, then drags something so I can push the door further. Once I’m in the room, I see the fucker. He has a knife stuck in his side but he’s not dead yet. A roar builds in my chest at the sight of the filthy motherfucking cunt’s undone zipper.
Kid stands next to me as I close the door and ghost my hand over his dark hair. He looks up at me, whispering, “Was I bad?”
