Oh, she’ll get some experience and then some.
I have a few fantasies of my own that I want to try, only with her, for I’ve never had someone to call mine, and now I do.
Which means I won’t ever have to restrain myself again.
“It’s all right,moy cvetochek. You can use me all you want. I’m all yours and no one else’s.” I step toward her, and she tenses. I brush my knuckles over her cheek. “Get some rest. You had a very eventful twenty-four hours.” Before she can say anything, I walk to my car and get inside, giving her one last nod before driving away and watching her stare at me in the rearview mirror.
But I also feel another set of eyes on me, watching my every move and probably thinking they have finally found the gold mine with me.
You see, the thing about hunters?
Once they sense blood, they think they’ve trapped their prey and go after it without thinking about the consequences.
He’s hunting and thinks he’s finally found leverage, where the truth is simple.
I gave him the bait, and he’ll take it.
And when he does?
I’ll kill him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Interesting thing about evilness?
It has different layers.
One is born in hideousness and deviant desires.
While the other is born in rage so strong, it consumes you.
Wishing to find the outlet for all the suffering it made you experience.”
Levi
Levi, 8 years old
The water dripping into the sink echoes through the small space as I rock back and forth, the sound driving me crazy and hurting my ears.
Although that is nothing compared to the festering bruises on my back pulsing from the whip, and my broken elbow throbbing with pain.
Tap, tap, tap.
“The piece of shit refused to comply once again,” John says into the phone, sitting on the chair and taking a huge sip from his whiskey glass. “He’s always been a problem, and I’m starting to get tired of it.”
I press my back against the cage’s bars, and it rattles, making the man throw an empty can at me, smirking.
One day, I’ll knock out all his teeth.
I shift, although there isn’t much space inside for that. The cage is tiny, and I can’t even sit straight in it. They call it my punishment for being difficult. All the other children are in a different room with spacious cages.
As if it changes anything, I always spit on their faces, which earns me a few more hits, but it’s worth it.
I will never be grateful for sitting in a cage!
“You brought him to me and said what? Clean up the fucker and sell him to the highest bidder, and that’s what I did. Except he bit the client, and it cost us a fortune instead!”
I stay unmovable even though revulsion rushes through me at the reminder of that time they dragged me into a red room to some old man, ready to do whatever to me.
