He turns around, his back facing me as I strip out of my nightgown. I take a careful step inside and the water surrounds half my leg. It’s warm, soothing, and makes me feel slightly calmer.
Watching him closely, I reach for the soap placed in front of me, still afraid he’ll turn around to watch me, but he doesn’t. The situation makes me feel uncomfortable, but I’m glad he doesn’t come near me.
I keep washing myself, and it doesn’t take long before he breaks the awkward silence of the room.
“You look just like your pathetic father,” he says with his back facing me, but his voice is still loud and clear. “I can’t wait to have you out of my house,” he spits out.
Shame crashes over me. I didn’t choose this, I don’t want to be here. But every cell in my body tells me to stay quiet and keep my mouth shut, to not argue against this man specifically. So I listen to it, knowing it’s for the best.
“You should be clean by now. There’s towels hanging on the wall, the pink one is for you as my soninsistedthat one should be yours.”
I stand on my feet and leave the bathtub, water dripping on the floor all around me. I reach for the pink towel, the soft fabric brushing my fingertips along with the rest of my body as I dry myself.
“There’s also a new, pink nightgown folded for you on the sink,” he breaks the silence, and my eyes dart towards the mentioned area.
I drag it over my head, and it’s not until I’m covered that I see him coming closer. “Night, night,” he speaks before something sharp enters my arm, and as I look to my side, it’s another damn needle.
—
When I wake up again, I’m sitting with hands tied behind my back and fabric covering my head just like before. The air around me is thick and heavy, and smells like a man went way overboard with his perfume. The smell is too strong and my head hurts instantly.
Then, a familiar sound roars nearby, a sound I hold close to my heart.Motorcycles.
The fabric disappears from my head just then.As I look down, I count nineteen motorcycles.I countagain just to make sure, but I was right the first time. Nineteen men have entered a race to win me,and I have no say in it.
I was just in my home, safely being fucked just a few hours ago, and now I’m here, about to go home with a stranger. I’ve tried to ignore reality, but it’s becoming too real.
All of them are looking up at me, but I can’t see any of their faces, which only feeds my anxiety.
One of the men makes a jerking movement with his hand right before his dick. A bulletgoes through his head just as quickly. Blood forms around his lifeless body, and the view makes my eyes shut close. The next time I open them, he’s gone, and only blood-stained asphalt remains.
Everyone turns their head again, afraid of them being next. Everyone except for one. The man stands beside a black, glittering motorcycle with a white helmet. He’s wearing all black clothes and doesn’t stand out compared to the others. But somehow, all my attention is being pulled towards him.
Suddenly, a siren goes off and the race begins.I can’t decide whether I should look or not. The fact that I can’t see their faces makes everything a hundred times worse. I can only hope that my father is one of the men, winning me back so I can go home again.
The leading motorcycles are both red, driving like mad people with too much confidence. In third place is the black one I noticed earlier, the glitter varnishing making it shine under the spotlights.
I tear my eyes from the race for just a few seconds to look around me. I’m all by myself, the room fully white with no decor. It’s only me, tied to a chair and feeling exposed.
A loud siren snaps me out of my thoughts again, dragging my eyes back to the arena before me. The black motorcycle has stopped, and the man underneath the helmet is staring at me.
Is the race already over? A shiver runs down my spine.
The door to the room swings open with a loud bang, and two men walk inside, gripping me tightly and lifting me from thechair. This is what I saved my energy for. I start kicking, fighting against them, screaming in their ears. But they stay unbothered, like I’m an annoying fly they can just ignore.
They throw me on the ground before his motorbike, and as I lift my head to meet him, I can no longer keep the tears from streaming down my face.
“Enjoy your new pet,” I hear a grim voice say, and as I turn to look at him, I feel the need to throw up. The voice belongs to an old man, his face scarred as if rats feast on his skin daily.
But it’s not his face that makes me feel sick to my stomach, it’s the fact that he could’ve won. It could’ve been him I was supposed to go home with.
And I still have no idea who’s hiding underneath the helmet of the winner.My new owner.
He stands, his tall form coming closer with slow steps as he walks like it’s heavy. The helmet in his hand goes over my head in one easy motion. "Don’t let them see your tears,” he whispers for only me to hear. The simple sentence shocks me. But what shocks me even more is the way I suddenly dry my eyes like he pulled strings attached to my body.
He picks me up like I weigh nothing and holds me firmly against himself for a brief second, then he throws me over his bike and drives away without warning.
My eyes fly open when multiple gunshots echo behind us, but as I look up at him, his full focus is on the road before him. I’ve never seen anyone so unbothered by people being shot.
