Arturo’s smile slides even more evilly across his face. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Poppy. The only way to train a bitch is to break them.”
The belt comes out of nowhere, snapping inches from my face.
“Turn around!”
“N—No,” I stutter out, shaking uncontrollably.
“I said, turn the fuck around.”
When the belt comes down on my bare knees, leaving a lashing as red as the handprint on my cheek, I cry out in a strangled plea of mercy.
“Arturo, don’t do this, please.”
“Turn the fuck around!” he repeats. “I won’t ask you again.”
Like a robot, I turn, so I’m kneeling on the floor facing the bedspread that’s tucked in on all corners.
My breath hitches seconds before the belt bites into my back, and despite my best effort, I let out a painful squeak, followed by another and another. Each one getting softer as the pain starts to meld together and everything inside me goes numb.
And somewhere in my mind, I tell myself I deserve this, and that it’s because of me that Wesley got hurt. So, I take each hit, fighting through the pain, parts of me breaking with every lashing as I try to find a safe space in my head to hide. If I block out the agony and the embarrassment of him demeaning me in this way, I’ll be okay.
I’ll be okay…
I’ll be okay…
My mind slips into a repetitive downward spiral. The gaslighting prominent, the lies even more treacherous.
I want to hate Arturo for treating me this way.
Everything in me wants to fight back.
I just can’t.
Not when Wesley’s barely hanging on.
I gave them his name.
I’m the reason he’s probably dead.
Even though I know that I’ll be okay, I know he won’t, and it’s that thought that finally breaks me.
A single tear slips down my cheek, as my fingers curl into the shaggy green rug at the foot of the bed, my screams of agony twisting in my gut as they mix with ridiculous amounts of shocking pain.
“You stupid, bitch! You’ll pay for making a fool of me! Just like he did in that prison cell.”
Blood leaks down my back as he takes another swing, this time so hard I hit the ground, too weak to get back up.
“Picture your little friend just like this,” Arturo whispers cruelly. “Back bruised and broken. Blood everywhere. Those few final breaths a struggle just to get out. Do you think he begged for mercy, Poppy? Do you think he pleaded for his life?” He grabs my cheeks and squeezes. “Are you smart enough to beg for yours?”
“Please,” I croak out. “I can’t take anymore.”
“Have I broken you yet? Or do you need more?”
“No,” I shout. My vision starting to cloud. “Please… stop.”
He rips my head back, forcing me to look into his menacing eyes. “If you ever try to embarrass me like that again, your punishment will be far worse.”
He violently shreds my sleeve, exposing my little addiction to the cold, cruel air. “You’re nothing more than a pathetic drug addict, Poppy. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be nothing.”
