Torn from You

Page 7

Logan hauled me up beside him. His voice low as his steal tone whispered in my ear. “Pull it together. I told you not to look. You have to learn to trust me.”
He was a lie. I didn’t trust a single word from his mouth, but I nodded anyway, because I couldn’t think of what else to do as the horror kicked me in the gut. I heaved in breath after breath, my chest wheezing, limbs shaking as I stared at the stone tiles beneath my feet and tried to get the images out of my head. They wouldn’t leave me. The sounds of girls whimpering and screaming, the look of the girl with her cheek pressed to the floor.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to block out what I’d seen, but it wouldn’t go away. How could Logan be standing there so immune to the horror? Was he even human? No, none of them were.
I heard slow, casual footsteps approach, and Logan’s grip tightened on my arm, and my body went rigid.
“After days in your care, I thought she’d be better prepared for what awaited her.” The voice was the same one as in the house where I was whipped. The scent of sweat and garlic wafted off him.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
Oh God. I didn’t want to, yet I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t. When I raised my head, I instantly recognized him. The man from Sculpt’s fight with the two bodyguards Jacob and Dave. I could remember him intently watching Logan after he’d won the fight. That night seemed so long ago.
The man’s finger came under my chin, and I balked at his touch.
His fist punched me in the stomach so fast and hard that I stumbled backward and would have fallen if Logan hadn’t been holding my arm. I tried desperately to suck in the air that he’d knocked out of me.
“That was unnecessary, Raul,” Logan said in a calm, contained voice.
“You’ve taught her nothing,” he shouted. “Nothing!”
Logan’s voice remained controlled as he answered, “She was drugged.”
“I gave her to you in good faith, but if she doesn’t conform then I will take her myself, and she’ll be sold.”
“You think I don’t know what’s expected of her? Don’t think for one second I’ve forgotten, Raul. She’ll behave.” Logan pulled me tighter into his side, and I could feel every muscle flexed and rigid. “When is my first fight?”
“Two days.” I heard Raul shift his feet until he was standing directly in front of me. “You remember what I told you, Sculpt?”
I didn’t dare look up, but I felt Logan’s hand on my arm tense. “I’m here to fight, Raul. I won’t lose, so don’t ever question me on it.”
“And I don’t like your attitude. I taught you better.”
“You taught me nothing except to fight. I’m here, and I’ll fight, but I get what I want.”
“Then train her and keep her on a short leash, or Alfonzo will take her and she goes on auction.”
I was humiliated and devastated when I saw Logan shrug. “She’s mine, because I want to fuck her. Once I’m tired of her, you can do whatever you want with her.”
Oh God. No. No.
I was so angry and terrified and grasping at everything that didn’t make sense that I just couldn’t hold onto my sanity any longer. Hearing those words flow easily from the man I’d fallen in love with was like an anchor sitting in my stomach with oil being poured all over the once beautiful rabble of butterflies, darkening the love I once felt for this man.
I hated him. I hated him so much at that moment that I couldn’t stop myself. I reeled back and slapped him hard across the face. Then I spit at him ... turned and spit at Raul. “Bastards. Disgusting, fucking parasites.” My yelling got the attention of the entire room, and even though I knew what I’d done couldn’t be good for me—it felt unbelievably amazing.
Then I was down on the floor with a knee shoved into my back and a hand pressing my face into the stone floor. I cried out as my arms were wrenched behind my back and something rough and stiff was wrapped around my wrists. Then I was hauled to my feet by Jacob.
I glared at Logan. “I hate you. I’ll kill you.” I was hit hard on the side of my head, and I felt blood dripping down my cheek. “You’re a monster.” Logan’s face remained unaffected by my words as his cold stare went right through me.
“You know what to do,” Raul said, his breath seeping into my nostrils.
Jacob nodded.
“No,” Logan said, his voice a deep, dark rumble. “I’ll deal with her.”
“She insulted us and a room full of men. She’ll be treated as any other. You’re lucky I don’t strip her naked and let every man in here do as he pleases for the insult.”
I struggled against Jacob, but he was big, and to him I was like a pesky little Chihuahua.
“Emily, stop.” Logan’s order plowed through my panic and anger, and I stood still. I didn’t know how I knew this, maybe instinct, or it was the way Logan’s eyes stared at me unflinching, but I knew I had to stop fighting. “You can’t fight here, Emily. Ever.” He chin-lifted to Jacob, and suddenly I was being hauled away.
It was almost like being separated from my safety net—Logan. He wasn’t much of one, and it had holes all through it, but I still had some sort of connection to him, and even if I no longer trusted him, I didn’t want to be taken from him.
I looked back over my shoulder. Logan stood in the same place staring at me. He never moved, never looked away. Somewhere inside of me I was hoping he’d stop Jacob. That he’d run after me, shout, do something, but he just watched me.
I pleaded and hoped that he’d change back to the man who swept me into his heart. Then I screamed silently for him to fight for me as I disappeared from his view.
I was so terrified, that I sunk so low as to beg. “Please. I promise to be good. Take me back to Logan.”
Jacob ignored me like he’d done for the past three days. Not one word did he direct toward me. Instead, if he wanted me to do something he spoke to Logan who then told me.
He pulled me down a long, wide hallway with oil paintings of naked figures on the peachy brown stucco walls. Some were of a woman, others two women, or a man and a woman. They were beautiful paintings, and I suspected they were worth a fortune. Wherever we were, the place reeked money.
Jacob slid a key into a lock then opened a door. The heavy wood creaked, and when I saw it led down a staircase and into darkness, I started shaking. “Please.” I pulled back on his grip and shook my head back and forth. I’d do anything not to be left alone in the dark again. “No. I’ll be good.” I hated the words I was willing to say, but I couldn’t stop them. I began hyperventilating as Jacob pulled me forward.
“No. No. Please.”
Jacob ignored my begging as he shuffled me in through the door and then down the stairs. I started to cry as the familiar mustiness sunk into me. I couldn’t be locked up again. The terror gripped me, and I thrashed against Jacob’s hold. My body moved like a trapped piece of paper flinging in the wind. My insides were ripping apart, tearing, burning with fear.
Jacob calmly continued down the stairs then walked along a hallway, me writhing against his hold the entire time, sobbing, begging. He remained unaffected as he kicked open a door and shoved me inside.
I jerked as it slammed behind me and Jacob then turned a key in the lock.
I slowly backed away from him. He brushed past me, and I staggered to the side, but he never grabbed me. Instead, he walked over to a tap in the wall and grabbed a bucket; then water started pouring out into the pail.
I turned and staggered to the door and started yanking on it. It wouldn’t budge. Then I pounded on it and yelled for help. I knew it was pointless, but I couldn’t help doing it. I guess I had a smidgen of hope that Logan would hear my panic and he’d come.
I was wrong.
Logan never came.
Jacob forced me over to a dirty mattress on a rusted metal bedframe and pushed me down. I instantly thought he was going to force himself on me, but he didn’t take off my clothes. He pinned me down with the weight of his knee on my stomach then calmly tied my wrists and ankles to the bedframe.
I yanked and pulled, trying to get free, yet knowing it was pointless. I watched Jacob as he dragged a collapsible plastic chair behind the front of the bed near my head then brought the bucket.
My eyes widened with terror, uncertainty. Jacob sat, reached in the bucket, and pulled out a soaking wet towel.
That’s when I knew.
I knew exactly what he was going to do. I’d seen it in the movies. Heard that it was used to get people to talk. Torture. Unimaginable torture.
A wet towel thrown over the victim and water poured over their face.
Drowning over and over again.
“No!” I went crazy. Struggling against the ropes as Jacob placed the towel over my face. “No. No. No. No.”
He held my head back then the water came and my words were drowned with garbled screams.
Chapter 4
Day 7
The door creaked open on its heavy hinges, and then slow footsteps. Panic and fear reared, and I tried to fade back into the mattress, cowering.
Jacob had blindfolded me after the waterboarding. The agony ... Panic setting off every nerve in my body as I struggled to breath but sucked in water instead. I tried to scream, to beg, to break free from the bonds that latched me to the bed, but there was no escape.
I was fighting for survival, yet losing with every water-drawn breath.
Jacob had done it time and again, pouring water over the towel on my face. I begged him to stop when he let me cough up water and breath for a few minutes. I sobbed, and I promised to do anything he wanted.
He ignored my pleas and did it again and I gagged, choked and struggled. Then when he was done, he took off the towel and replaced it with a blindfold.
The footsteps drew closer.
Was Jacob back? Was he going to torture me again? I wanted to fight, but I knew that it only made the torture worse. So I stayed quiet and still as the footsteps drew closer. Then I breathed in the familiar scent of what reminded me of a fresh cut grass—Logan.
Relief. Yes, I felt it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did.
But my tears were gone, I’m not sure where. He’d stolen them away. Him or Jacob? I wasn’t really sure anymore, because Jacob had broken me, and Logan had wrecked me. Tainted thoughts of Logan filled me. A hate I had to keep hidden and controlled, because if he left me here any longer I was going to lose whatever grasp on reality I had left. Already I’ll never be the same girl again; I’d at least like to be sane.
I felt the soft brush of his fingers on my arm and recoiled. His touch stopped, and I heard him shift as if he was hesitating. Then he walked away. I bit my lip to stop myself from begging him to come back, to release me, to take me out of here.
He strode back, and this time he untied the ropes that locked my wrists and ankles to the bed, and gently helped me sit up.
“Emily.” His fingers traced down the side of my face then to the curve of my neck. “You can’t fight here.”
His familiar touch awakened my oil-drowned butterflies, and I felt sick that my body reacted to his touch that way. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.