less guilt.
The image of Uncle Doug’s face faded as the pain ripped my mind back to the present. But not Karrie’s face. Hers remained, haunting me now like it did every night. But as more pain razored through my body, I whispered to her, “This is for you.” Over and over. And each time I said it, each time another blade sliced through my body, a tiny bit of regret faded. Just a tiny sliver. Enough that soon I welcomed the next strike. And the next.
Pain? Could it be so simple? One tear for every tear she had refused to shed for me?
I could pay her back. I could. “Thank you,” I uttered as another strike sent piercing pain whipping through me.
“Beg for mercy, esclavo!” Ramos demanded, louder.
Keeping silent, I clamped my eyelids shut and braced for more.
A bruise for a bruise.
A strike for a strike.
A tear for a tear.
I would pay my sweet sister back for every single one. Kace Ramos would make sure of it.
At least out of this nightmare I had discovered something. I had found a way to pay for my past mistakes.
I had found redemption.
When Ramos stopped. I blinked open bleary eyes. Tears had saturated my cheeks and the bench beneath me. But I hadn’t sobbed. Just like Karrie, I hadn’t made a sound.
Moving quickly, he unfastened the cuffs and stooped down. His gaze drilled mine. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded.
Before I could answer, a torrent of Spanish words flew from his mouth and he stormed out of the room.
I was alone again.
Alone but no longer afraid.
Alone but finally feeling as if I’d paid my brave baby sister back a little for all she’d done for me.
Alone but grateful.
I want her to be like the others. To cry and scream and beg. But she’s not and it’s fucking with my head. I can’t want her. I don’t deserve that. I only deserve the pleasure of her pain. But she won’t even give me that. I hate her. –Kace R.
Six
Someone was in my room. Standing next to my bed. I had a feeling it was him, my captor, my tormenter. The cold, heartless bastard.
Why was he here now?
I hadn’t seen him the rest of the day, not since he’d left me in the dungeon. Once again Adela had come to my rescue, a robe draped over her arm and an icepack in her hands. Saying absolutely nothing, she ushered me back to my room. Once we were closed inside, she handed me some ointment, to speed the healing of my lash marks and the ice pack for my ankle. “You should stay here and rest,” she told me, concern pulling her pretty features into tense lines.
“Thank you. I will.”
As I cleaned up she brought me a scrumptious meal. The main dish had rice and different kinds of seafood in it. I’d never tasted anything like it. Dessert was fresh fruit. While the food was delicious, I ate alone. It was really fucking lonely. But I didn’t crave Ramos’s company. Hell no. With time came clarity. While he had been beating me, I’d convinced myself that I deserved it. But now my head was clear.
Nobody deserved to be treated like that. Not Karrie. Not me.
Not anyone.
Too angry to rest, I gimped around my room, hoping to find my things hidden away somewhere. The room was so fucking big, it would be easy to hide it all. Sadly, I didn’t find any of it. Not a single sock. Determined to keep looking, I tried the door. Much to my surprise, it wasn’t locked.
Moving as quietly as I could, on tiptoes, I crept through Ramos’s massive mansion. My nerves were on edge as I hobbled from one room to another, searching for my possessions among gorgeous antiques and art work. At any moment I expected to run into the bastard. I had no idea what I would say when I saw him again. I wanted to scream at him and pound that beautiful face with my fists. He had beaten me. Like a fucking dog. For no reason, other than for the sheer enjoyment. What kind of monster enjoyed making other people suffer?
And yet he’d seemed so angry when I hadn’t begged him to stop. Furious.
The image of Uncle Doug’s face faded as the pain ripped my mind back to the present. But not Karrie’s face. Hers remained, haunting me now like it did every night. But as more pain razored through my body, I whispered to her, “This is for you.” Over and over. And each time I said it, each time another blade sliced through my body, a tiny bit of regret faded. Just a tiny sliver. Enough that soon I welcomed the next strike. And the next.
Pain? Could it be so simple? One tear for every tear she had refused to shed for me?
I could pay her back. I could. “Thank you,” I uttered as another strike sent piercing pain whipping through me.
“Beg for mercy, esclavo!” Ramos demanded, louder.
Keeping silent, I clamped my eyelids shut and braced for more.
A bruise for a bruise.
A strike for a strike.
A tear for a tear.
I would pay my sweet sister back for every single one. Kace Ramos would make sure of it.
At least out of this nightmare I had discovered something. I had found a way to pay for my past mistakes.
I had found redemption.
When Ramos stopped. I blinked open bleary eyes. Tears had saturated my cheeks and the bench beneath me. But I hadn’t sobbed. Just like Karrie, I hadn’t made a sound.
Moving quickly, he unfastened the cuffs and stooped down. His gaze drilled mine. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded.
Before I could answer, a torrent of Spanish words flew from his mouth and he stormed out of the room.
I was alone again.
Alone but no longer afraid.
Alone but finally feeling as if I’d paid my brave baby sister back a little for all she’d done for me.
Alone but grateful.
I want her to be like the others. To cry and scream and beg. But she’s not and it’s fucking with my head. I can’t want her. I don’t deserve that. I only deserve the pleasure of her pain. But she won’t even give me that. I hate her. –Kace R.
Six
Someone was in my room. Standing next to my bed. I had a feeling it was him, my captor, my tormenter. The cold, heartless bastard.
Why was he here now?
I hadn’t seen him the rest of the day, not since he’d left me in the dungeon. Once again Adela had come to my rescue, a robe draped over her arm and an icepack in her hands. Saying absolutely nothing, she ushered me back to my room. Once we were closed inside, she handed me some ointment, to speed the healing of my lash marks and the ice pack for my ankle. “You should stay here and rest,” she told me, concern pulling her pretty features into tense lines.
“Thank you. I will.”
As I cleaned up she brought me a scrumptious meal. The main dish had rice and different kinds of seafood in it. I’d never tasted anything like it. Dessert was fresh fruit. While the food was delicious, I ate alone. It was really fucking lonely. But I didn’t crave Ramos’s company. Hell no. With time came clarity. While he had been beating me, I’d convinced myself that I deserved it. But now my head was clear.
Nobody deserved to be treated like that. Not Karrie. Not me.
Not anyone.
Too angry to rest, I gimped around my room, hoping to find my things hidden away somewhere. The room was so fucking big, it would be easy to hide it all. Sadly, I didn’t find any of it. Not a single sock. Determined to keep looking, I tried the door. Much to my surprise, it wasn’t locked.
Moving as quietly as I could, on tiptoes, I crept through Ramos’s massive mansion. My nerves were on edge as I hobbled from one room to another, searching for my possessions among gorgeous antiques and art work. At any moment I expected to run into the bastard. I had no idea what I would say when I saw him again. I wanted to scream at him and pound that beautiful face with my fists. He had beaten me. Like a fucking dog. For no reason, other than for the sheer enjoyment. What kind of monster enjoyed making other people suffer?
And yet he’d seemed so angry when I hadn’t begged him to stop. Furious.
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