Discovering Us 3: Perseverance

“Where is he?” My voice is barely above a whisper. I’ve been here for three days, alone in my old bedroom in England. The sun rises and sets, but I have no contact with anyone.

This room, the one I was so thrilled to move into when I was ten, now feels like a prison. The high ceilings, the intricate coving, and the plush lilac carpet I begged for all feel oppressive. The floor-to-ceiling sliding doors that open onto a small balcony overlooking the vast twelve acres behind the house are locked, trapping me inside.

The small single bed, once my most prized possession, is now a cage. Its soft mattress is covered in gold cotton bedding embroidered with golden horses, a treasure from my past. This is the house where I lived with my mother and Henry before she passed away.

“He’s nearby. Very close.”

“I want to see him.” Is he okay? Is he hurt? What is he doing with him? Why didn’t he just take me?

“You can, when you earn your privileges.”

Earn privileges? What the hell is he talking about? “Fuck you.”

He crosses the room and stands at the foot of the bed, that smile I despise plastered on his face. It’s the same smile he wears in his playroom.

“Don’t dismiss me until you understand your situation, princess.” I look up then, meeting the eyes that have haunted my dreams for months. I hate him. I hate him with every fiber of my being.

If I knew where Zach was, or how he was, I’d stab this man with the butter knife from the tray of untouched food. Why haven’t I eaten? I don’t trust that they haven’t tampered with it. Lillie’s voice echoes in my mind, warning me not to consume anything given by my captors.

“Now, I think it’s time you understood why you’re here. Are you ready to listen?”

I laugh at him before realizing he’s serious. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I spit back at him.

“Good. I won’t sugarcoat it, princess. I took you because I want you. And I will have you…don’t doubt that.” He paces in front of me, hands clasped behind his back, his words making my stomach churn. “But! I’m willing to negotiate today,” he says. “Only…today.”

His words make me snarl. We will never reach a compromise.

“You can choose to give yourself to me, or…I will take you every day for the rest of your stay here against your will.” He stops pacing, waiting for my response.

I spit in his face, refusing to dignify his words with a response.

“I’d be very, very careful, princess. I have something you care about, and I’m not afraid to hurt him to make a point. I will rape you and then make you watch my men beat him. Hell, I might even make him watch while I rape you.”

“Fuck you.”

He ignores my insult, moving closer.

“You will let me fuck you whenever, wherever, and however I want. You can fight me if you want. I enjoy a rough fuck. I like the idea of raping you. In fact, it would please me if you fought me every time I touched you.”

I turn away from him, hiding the fear that must be showing on my face. That’s why he took me…he wants more of what he barely had…he wants to rape me like he did all those girls, over and over again, until I’m nothing but a shell.

“I want to fuck you now.”

I snap my gaze back to his, baring my teeth before I speak. “If you even touch me, I’ll break your hand.”

He sits on the bed in front of me, squeezing one of my breasts, ignoring my threat. I slap his face and push him away in his moment of surprise.

“You’ve become feisty since you’ve been away, princess. Shall I show you what happens when you refuse?”

I snort. Do I have a choice?

Apparently not, because he smiles to himself as he pulls out his phone, revealing a live video feed of a dark room. I snatch the phone from his hand as I recognize the person in the video.

Zach is in the room, leaning against a wall, his back straight, his legs bent in front of him. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of joggers. His fists are clenched as he stares into space, but it feels like he’s staring right at the camera…right at me.

Does he know it’s there? My gut tells me he’s staring at me, that he knows I’m watching, but surely not?

He looks relatively unharmed, so I let out the breath I’ve been holding and turn my attention back to Henry. “Is this live?”

“Yes.”

“Have you hurt him?”

“Only in America.”

“I’ll fucking kill you if you hurt a hair on his head.”

He smirks, as if I’ve just confirmed his wildest dreams. “Then, princess, I guess you’ll have to let me fuck you.”

“No chance.”

He snatches the phone from my hands and places it on the bedside table before leaning into me. His cologne overwhelms me, and my mind drifts back to that day in the playroom at home. The day he forced himself on me for the first time.

“I want you, princess.”

“I said no chance.”

He leans in until our lips are almost touching. I can almost taste the stale whiskey on his breath, a reminder of the last time.

He moistens his lips with his tongue, and I do the same, though mine is due to nerves. It’s the same smell.

“Are you sure, princess?” His left eyebrow raises.

“I’m fucking sure you’ll never touch me again.”

“Okay, as you wish, princess. First things first.” He picks up the phone while staying as close to me as possible. He dials a number, smirking to himself.

“She’s refused.” That’s all he says before tossing the phone back on the bed near me.

In my haste, I drop it a few times before I manage to pick it up. I watch in horror as three men enter the room where Zach is. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch. The only response Zach gives them is a shift in his eyes as he watches them.

“What are they doing?”

“Watch, princess. Let this be your first lesson.”

My eyes flick back down to the phone as they surround Zach. He looks up, smirking at the three men.

“Again?” His voice. “You don’t really want to play these games, do you boys? How’s Frank? His ribs healed yet?”

I look up at Henry then back down. He lied. He fucking lied. “You lied,” I mutter, realizing he has hurt him.

“Just watch, princess.”

I do watch as they pull Zach to his feet. He doesn’t make the first move, even though I will him to.

He stands there for one hundred and seventy-four seconds, taking punch after punch until he loses control. His eyes become black orbs in his angelic face.

I watch in amazement as he easily takes them out. He throat punches one, sending him to the floor, gasping for breath. He turns to the second man, raining down punches on him like he does the boxing bags at home until he falls to the floor.

The last one puts up a fight. They scrap against the wall until both of them fall to the floor. Zach takes five or six punches to his face before they roll over, and the roles reverse.

I watch the man’s clenched fist connect with different parts of Zach’s face over and over again. The cry that comes out of me is as if I were the one being punched, my chest aching as I watch this unfold.

I try to tear my gaze away, but I can’t. I don’t want to miss a single detail of what Henry is doing to us. When I finally get the chance to kill him, I want to do it without a shred of guilt.

“Stop them.”

“Before I can even tell them to stop, he’ll have beaten him,” Henry retorts.

And Zach does. It’s as if the punches fuel him. He manages to kick both of them off him, grabbing one by the throat and choking him until his limbs flail in panic, desperate for air.

I’m glad to see the man struggle. The quicker he dies, the better. But he doesn’t die.

Zach releases him, letting him collapse to the floor, eyes rolling back in his head. Zach then leans back against the wall, just as he was when I first saw him. His breathing is steady, even as blood trickles down his face from a cut above his eyebrow and a split lip. His knuckles are red and swollen.

“Is that all you got, Henry?” Zach taunts, looking at the camera again.

“Is this supposed to scare me?” I bluff. But it does scare me.

“I admit, I need better men. They’re on their way, princess. But consider this a preview. If you defy me, he’ll be punished before you. Understand?”

I swallow hard. How long can Zach endure this? Is Henry feeding him? Giving him water?

How long can I endure him violating me before I retreat into my mind? The place where I used to hide?

“Let him go home.”

“Are you feeding him?”

“He’s refused, just like you have.”

“Let him go home. I’ll stay with you if you do.”

“If he goes home, there will be three of them looking for you. He knows the layout of this house. He knows how long you’ve been here. How many men I have here with me. That I’m the one who took you. He’s staying here with us.”

“Let me talk to him. He won’t tell them anything, not if I ask him not to. They won’t look for me. They won’t try to find me. I’ll stay with you.” Lies, all lies. I can taste the bile rising in my throat as I utter them.

Zach probably wouldn’t leave if he knew I wasn’t going with him. And if he did leave, he would come back for me. He wouldn’t leave me here alone for long.

“They’ve been looking for you for over a week, princess. Your bodyguard has already figured out that you were flown out of the country sooner than I would have liked. They’ll find you soon. There’s no doubt about that. But by then, I would have had my fill of you.” He traces a finger down my cheek as I process his words.

A week? Over a fucking week? No, that can’t be right.

I’ve seen three sunrises. Before that, all I remember is getting into the van as they held a gun to Zach’s lifeless body in the parking garage.

How did I lose four fucking days?

A wave of nausea hits me. How did they find us so quickly?

Zach has a tracker. Damn it, why didn’t I agree to get a tracker?

And if they separate us? They won’t be able to find me. I need to keep Zach here with me.

I can’t let Zach get hurt. He’s our only hope of escaping this nightmare.

A terrible, high-pitched grunt comes from the phone. I scramble to pick it up. What I see sends a chill down my spine. The first man, the one Zach choked earlier, is using a taser on Zach. Zach’s body convulses on the floor as shock after shock courses through him.

I hold my breath, counting the seconds until his body finally goes still. Then my heart races as Zach lies there, motionless.

Two minutes. Three minutes. Six minutes pass before Zach gasps awake in an empty room. He lies there, staring at the ceiling. Tears stream down my face as I look up from the phone.

“Good old Diego. Never was one for a fair fight. Now come here, princess.” He grabs my wrist, but I kick him away in a burst of defiance.

He grunts as he falls back from the bed. We lock eyes as he plans his next move. As he reaches for my ankles, I kick at his forearms.

“Damn, princess. You’re making me hard.”

I shudder at his words as he pulls me down the mattress, beneath him. His fingers tug at the black lace panties I’m wearing. I squirm, trying to escape, but they rip, leaving me exposed. Cool air brushes against my thighs.

His cold, rough fingers part my legs as he settles between them. Panic rises in my throat as the reality of the situation sinks in. He’s going to do it again. He’s going to rape me. And the worst part is, I barely put up a fight.

“Get off me,” I whimper, wriggling beneath him, assessing his grip on me.

“One call will have him writhing on the floor again.”

I close my eyes at his words.

Don’t let Zach get hurt for you.

“This is your second lesson. You should have given yourself to me willingly.” He thrusts into me roughly, his hands closing around my throat.

“Finally,” he grunts, taking me without mercy.

I turn my head to the side, looking out at the gardens. Don’t fight. Just hold your breath like Zach taught you. Go to a calm place, a happy place.

Compartmentalize. You’re not here. It’s just your body he’s using. Forget him.