Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“How are you feeling this morning?” Logan asks, voice filled with concern.
Bile creeps up my throat. I don’t want to look at him or hear his voice. I certainly don’t want his touch.
Recoiling, I hiss out, “Don’t touch me.”
He chuckles as though what I’ve demanded is funny. “You’re understandably upset, pet, but you’ll get over it.”
“Ronan. My name is Ronan. Not your fucking pet.”
I tense as I wait for him to lash out in anger. He chuckles again before tugging my boxers down. “Let’s have a look at the damage.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to put my mind anywhere but here. He’s gentle as he caresses my bruised flesh.
“It’s going to hurt for a few days,” Logan says finally. “Try not to earn any more punishments until those heal up.”
I have nothing to say to him, so I clench my teeth.
With a frustrated sigh, he pulls my boxers back up and then exits the tent. It’s not until I hear his voice speaking to someone outside that I finally relax.
“You okay?” Kristen asks.
Rolling over onto my side, I see her on the sleeping bag closest to the tent exit. Her face is still swollen and bruised from days ago, but she wears a soft smile. How can she be smiling right now?
“He whipped me,” I choke out, barely keeping the emotion at bay. “Like an unruly child.”
She scoffs, frowning. “No, he beat you with a belt because he’s a sadistic monster.”
Hearing her confirm what this truly was makes me feel better. She’s right. I wasn’t being punished. I was being abused.
“And he rapes you,” I whisper. “There was nothing consensual about that.”
Her teeth bite down onto her bottom lip and her brows furl together. “I’m getting used to it.”
Getting used to rape?
My chest cracks open and bleeds for her. How long has she had to endure this man? How long can she continue before he breaks her?
“I want to kill him.” I swallow hard. “For you. For me.”
She reaches a hand across the middle sleeping bag. Needing a friend in this mess, I can’t help but clutch onto it.
“My sisters,” I murmur, fear stifling my voice. “They’re destined for the same fate as you.”
Kristen grimaces but nods. “I was camping with my boyfriend when they found me.” She closes her eyes and sighs heavily. “It’s what they do. They steal and kill and rape. All in some fucked-up effort to build their group of freaks.”
“What happened to your boyfriend?”
“Logan stabbed Eddie in the stomach right in front of me.” She sniffles and her bottom lip trembles. “Told me if I accepted Logan as my husband and let him consummate our marriage in front of Eddie, he’d give him a quick, merciful death. If I refused, Eddie could slowly bleed out as Logan raped me day in and day out however long it took him to die.”
I squeeze Kristen’s hand again when she starts to cry softly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me the rest.”
“No. I at least owe Eddie this. For him to be remembered as a selfless hero.” She lets out a choked sob. “Eddie told me he loved me and that if I loved him I would do as Logan said. He’d rather watch me have sex with Logan on my own terms and be followed by a quick death rather than hear my screams of resistance.” Another sob. “I couldn’t do it. I told Logan to fuck off.”
We both grow silent as I fill in the blanks.
Eddie slowly bled out and Logan brutally raped Kristen.
“Eddie kept telling me I was so brave,” Kristen whispers, a steady waterfall of tears flowing. “Over and over. How much he loved me. How fucking brave I was.” She shudders, squeezing her eyes shut. “It took him three days to finally die. Three days of…”
Sick, sexual brutality.
“I wasn’t brave,” she whimpers. “I was scared and caused Eddie three days of pain from my selfishness.” She shoots me a begging look. “I didn’t know what to do. I just needed him, you know?”
“I know that. I’m sure he knew that too, Kristen.” I give her hand another squeeze. “And you are brave. You’ve been living with a psychopath. It’s not your fault.”
My words seem to give her permission to break down because she does just that, spilling tears and moaning for all she’s lost. We remain still, hands gripping each other’s tight until she releases her emotions.
One day, we’ll escape this prison.
One day, we’ll make Logan fucking pay.
* * *
* * *
We still have weapons.
Dad didn’t just have stashes in the big house. He had them in his workshop too. Rifles, handguns, knives. Knowing we aren’t completely shit out of luck lifts my mood a little.
But only a little.
Today has been stressful. It’s been another full day of taking inventory of supplies, food, and whatever else we have left on the property. Those bastards took a lot of our shit and burned the rest.