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Chapter Five

“As flattered as I am, I’m not going to fuck you,” Jay admonishes, amusement in his narrowed gaze, as he steps closer to me. He raises his hand, stroking his fingers against my cheek – the intimate gesture makes me swallow. Where utter disgust should be, something else takes its place and I find myself panting.

He smirks, eyes flitting to my parted lips before he pulls his arm back like he’s been burned, and a twinge of disgust curls his lip. A mirthless chuckle erupts for plump lips, and I cast my eyes downward.

It’s almost refreshing to hear. Someone for once not forcing themselves on me.

“I- I,” I sputter, embarrassment kissing the tips of my ears with a warmth that only means I’m blushing. I’m fucking blushing. He’s disgusted by me…

“I’m only trying to help. Hurting me won’t anger Will. I’m sure he’s done things to me, even you couldn’t conjure in your mind. Pain means nothing to him.”

I shake my head, dark locks of my hair flying wildly about. I shove my shaking fingers through it, and tug at the knots, busying myself and keeping my eyes roaming around the room. Anywhere not to have to make eye contact with Jay and see his horror at my appearance.

“You want to piss Will off? You want to get what you want?”

Jay continues to let me talk, which I take as cue something I’m saying makes some fucking sense. They don’t know him like I do. Years and years of countless abuse has accustomed me to his ways.

“Don’t hurt me. Do the opposite.”

It’s far-fetched. Even to my ears, but I know it will work. Will would rather see me beaten and broken and even dead then see me with another man intimately. He’d rather they broke every fucking bone in my body, then caress me gently. If it means saving my fucking life, I’ll do whatever it takes. Hell, Jay might not even care to entertain my ideas, but I at least have to fucking try.

“So fucking you, will make him mad?”

Jay swirls his finger around his temple and raises a quizzical brow.

“That sounds fucking crazy to me. And that’s saying something.”

No surprise there.

“Shower. You fucking stink,” He gripes, and leaves me to myself.

I sink to the floor, legs wobbling and giving out underneath me, the towel useless on the floor. A swarm of tears sting my eyes, rimming my lids, and spilling over down onto my cheeks. Soft sobs erupt from my mouth, alternating with my gasps for air.

Why me?

What the fuck could I have possibly done to deserve this?

An image of a monitor, a bed, and my dying father flash in my mind and I suppress the memories, shoving them down deep where I can no longer find them.

No.

He deserved it.

I shake my head, and pull achingly at my hair, gather my locks in my hands and lowering my head to the floor. The cool tile connects with my burning flesh and I inhale a sharp breath that interrupts my cries.

“Fuck you, Will.” I snarl to the empty room, wishing he could hear the malice in my tone. “I hope you fucking rot for this. I hope they find your stupid ass and do every single fucking thing they’re going to do to me.”

I wipe angrily at my tears and steady my breathing, pressing my back against the sink.

“Fuck.”

Pulling my knees close to my chest, I hug them tightly, resting my head on them and lose myself in the aftermath I’ve my bad choices in men. All of the bullshit, and the anger, the resentment flow through me and pour down my cheeks in heated tears. My nose runs, and I sniffle, but I don’t care that I probably look like a sniveling mess – it won’t matter soon.

When I’m dead….

And no one will bat an eyelash when I’m gone. Not really. I’ll be known for being the wife of someone. Unimportant and insignificant while I rot in a box in pieces buried in the ground – if that.

My shoulders feel heavy, a fuzzy exhaustion settling over me.

It takes everything in me to rise to my feet and twist the knob in the tub. My fingers shake, slipping off the knob at first, until I get a firmer grip and watch as the water pours from the showerhead.

The clothes I’m wearing are stuck to my skin from the layers of nervous sweat, and grime that’ve accumulated. I peel them off, discarding them on the floor and step into the shower, not caring that it hasn’t heated up yet.

It’s like ice in my bones, numbing me. Dousing the angry flames licking my soul. I wrap my arms around myself, eyes glued to the bottom of the tub where dirt pools and swirls down the drain.

I wish I could make myself small enough to disappear through that drain.

I take uneven, gulps of air as I attempt to calm myself down.

Come on, Akira. Don’t give them the fucking satisfaction.

Ignoring the ache in my chest, I run my hands through my stringy hair and glance around the shower, looking for something to clean myself with. The only thing I find is Men’s body wash. I swipe the bottle up and squirt some into my hand before digging my nails into my skin and scrubbing away the disgusting dirty oils on my skin.

Even filled with anguish, just the act of washing myself has a therapeutic effect.

I have to keep myself from repeatedly questioning what I’ve done to disserve this? I don’t want to drudge up a ton of unwanted, old memories. I can’t. Not in the end.

I think of my mother.

Was she the best mother? No.

Did she protect me from the beatings of my father? She tried.

At least she fucking tried. She loved me. The only fucking person in this world who did.

If there’s any god, or sense of Karma in this world, I hope Will get’s his three fold. That nasty fucker is probably hiding somewhere in a luxury hotel, a team of security at his disposal, while I’m in some grungy, dangerous place with people that are just itching to cut things off.

Jay’s words circle back in my mind.

If you try to run. I will cut off a toe.

God, he must really like cutting things off.

A sardonic chuckle escapes my lips. I feel laughter bubbling in the back of my throat, and soon I’m clutching my stomach, raked with a fit of uncontrollable giggling that seems crazy. I can’t help it.

I press one hand along the wall to steady me, and begin taking deep breaths.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Pounding on the bathroom door startles me, before I hear Jay grunting.

“Get the fuck out.”

My only piece of normalcy is ripped away from me. I climb out of the tub, defeated and wrap the towel around me, before my eyes land on my clothes.

Dirty. No. Fucking filthy. I’m not putting those back on.

I hug the towel tightly around me, and walk out of the room, hair dripping onto the floor, smacking against my toes.

Jay looks up at me when I emerge from his bathroom.

His eyes widen a fraction and I see something dark flit across his expression, taking hold of his features, knitting his brows together. I inhale a sharp breath, the air getting caught in my throat when I realize what the emotion is.

Lust.

It’s gone so fast, I almost believe I’ve conjured up the image in my mind, but I know I’ve seen it.

His eyes harden and he steps forward.

“My clothes are dirty.” I rush quickly, while stepping backward. Amusement kisses the corners of his lips, and he turns, grabbing a shirt and a pair of sweats off the bed.

He tosses them to me. I catch, making sure to keep hold on my towel.

He shows no interest in watching me undress. He turns, and begins padding to the door.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

He halts, fists balled by his sides.

“Don’t thank me. Just fucking get dressed.”

He leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Something’s eating him.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that.

I slide my towel off cautiously, eyes never leaving the door as I step into the sweatpants, and pull the shirt over my head.

He’s back when I’m done dressing, a pair of cuffs in his hand.

He moves to me in prowling, feral movements. I flinch when he reaches for me, and twists me around, grabbing my arms. He pulls my arms tightly back, and cuffs just above my elbows so my chest is jutting forward, uncomfortably.

He grips my arms tight, fingers digging angrily into my skin as he pulls me out to the hallway.

My heart pounds wildly against my ribcage, quickening my breathing enough for him to notice and get annoyed.

“Can you shut the fuck up?”

“Sorry,” I mutter a reply quickly.

I hear voices as we near the end of the hall, and panic sets in. My feet falter, halting. Jay snarls, and yanks me forward.

“Topolina, I’d cooperate if I were you. They may not be as sadistic as me, but they’re not opposed to a quick death.”

My insides are like fucking jelly.

I let him drag me into the room, watching as four bulky men eye me with devouring eyes. I lean closer to Jay unconsciously. My eyes settle on an older man sitting at the table. His dark hair is laced with white, and his eyes are flat and unwavering. A gaze that could kill.

Instinctively I form his name on my mouth.

“Dominico.”

Jay’s heard me. He turns his head sideways, and casts me a ‘stupid girl’ look, but he doesn’t correct me.

A chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by them is where Jay tosses me.

“Sit,” he commands, and walks over to Dominico.

I can’t make out what their exchange is, but I feel the ravenous eyes on me.

I sit, wishing I could disappear in the chair.

Diverting my eyes, I take interest in the ground.

“This one’s attractive, Dominico,” I hear someone grunt. I glance up and watch as a burly man, with a shaved head, and squeamish eyes licks his lips.

“If we can’t torture the info outta her, I don’t mind fucking it outta her,” He goads, and clucks his tongue. I can’t hide the disgust on my face.

I find Jay and watch a twinge of amusement in the corner of his eyes, but it’s gone when Dominico speaks.

“Would you prefer that?”

I’m astounded that Dominico is addressing me.

I firm my lips and shake my head.

The thought of that fucker on me, makes my insides rot.

My shudder satisfies him.

“Cross, I may just take you up on that offer if Mrs. Carpenter doesn’t cooperate.”

I gulp, my lip curling with nausea. I shake my head, and whimper.

“Looks to me, she’d rather take the physical torture.”

“That is physical torture. Ask Cross’s ex,” Jay snickers.

The bald man – Cross – rolls his eyes and flips Jay off.

A bit of laughter surrounds me, and my confusion is evident.

They’re fucking laughing and chatting like they’re having a calm cup of fucking coffee.

I furrow my brows.

“Enough!” Dominico snaps. The room becomes hushed. “Do you know why you’re here, Akira?”

It’s the first time, Dominico uses my first name, and the sound of it coming from him is bone chilling.

I shake my head, lying. I know partially why I’m here, but not to what extent Will fucked up.

He ‘tsks’ and shakes his head.

“You’re here, because your husband is a liar.”

“Huh?”

Dominico taps his chin for a moment, letting my quizzical gaze settle on him.

“Unfortunately for you, we’re not torturing for information. We’re torturing for revenge. Humiliation. And now, financial compensation.”

I open my mouth to speak, but Jay’s firm expression makes me shut my mouth. He nods as if to say ‘good girl.’

“You see… hurting you is only a punishment to him.”

Words blurt from my mouth before I can stop them. My tone sarcastic.

“He’ll be real upset with that.” I scoff, anger driving my voice to rise. “He doesn’t care about torturing me. Hell, he’d give you the fucking tools to do it.”

Jay storms towards me, hand raised ready to strike me in the face, but Dominico stops him.

“Jay,” He calls. Jay halts, his arm in the air.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s abused me in more ways than you could imagine. It get’s his rocks off,” I conclude, shrugging. Dominico is intrigued. He rubs his chin, contemplatively.

“If you mail him my fucking fingers, I’m sure he’d touch himself.”

A few snickers around the room.

I hold his eyes, steady without backing down. I’m telling him the fucking truth. Will it do me any good? Probably not.

“Well, then what do you suggest we do?”

Jay’s eyes narrow, and his head moves just a fraction.

“No,” he mouths to me.

I feel my lips twist into something more sinister. A smirk but there’s no humor in it.

My words are mouthing back to Jay before I can control myself, knowing only he’ll be close enough to hear what I’ve muttered.

‘Fuck you.’

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