Torn from You (7 page)

“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.

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.

“Do you
understand why?”

“Yes.” I had
no choice. Hours I sat, blindfolded, shivering, wet, cold and alone
while I contemplated my life. Fighting them would only make it
harder on me. They wouldn’t kill me. No, instead they’d make me
suffer each and every day until I gave them what they wanted. I saw
the proof of that with those girls. There was no running and hiding
from what Logan had brought me into. There was no fighting. All I
had left was survival and hope.

“Good.” He put
his hand under my elbow, helped me stand then guided me out of the
room. He didn’t remove my blindfold, and I didn’t ask him to.

We
walked for a while, going through doors and turns until I felt the
brilliant sun beat down on my bare skin. I inhaled the scent of
meat cooking and smoke as if I was at a barbecue. It mixed with the
smell of flowers and ... Logan.

I had the urge
to tear the blindfold from my eyes. Without my sight for hours on
end, all other senses was heightened. Anxiety crept up on me with
every step. I had no idea where we were going, if I was going to be
tortured again. God, he could be leading me to a pit of lions and I
wouldn’t know it. The fear escalated with each unknown step, and I
started shaking so badly that I stumbled.

“Emily.” His
voice was steady and calm, and for some reason it settled me enough
to keep walking.

I jerked as I
heard a door shut behind us. Logan put his hands on either side of
my head, and I wondered if he was going to snap my neck, but when
his fingers fiddled with the knot in the bandanna I breathed a sigh
of relief.

He stopped,
then he hands fell away. “Emily ...You’re safer if you cannot
see.”

I was
trembling so bad that my teeth started chattering. I wasn’t certain
whether it was from the weakness in my limbs or the fear of what he
was going to do to me.

I heard him
walk across the room, stop, and come back toward me. His tone was
... deadly. I’d never heard anyone’s voice vibrating with such
controlled fury before.

I jumped when
his hand touched my cheek. “You need to fear me, not hate me.”

I did. I
feared him. But I think I hated him more. No, I knew I hated him
more. For what he’d done. For what he was doing. For the betrayal.
Most of all, for tarnishing something so beautiful and making it
ugly. I trusted him. I gave myself to him, and he took me, peeled
back layers of my soul until he saw it all. Then he took me.

“Do you
understand what must happen here?”

I nodded. I
did. I understood what Logan wanted of me. He wanted what that girl
with the dead eyes had become. The girl being rocked back and forth
as some guy pounded into her from behind. He wanted the girl
beneath the table. He wanted complete and utter submission.

He wanted me
to be his slave.

“Answer
me.”

I jerked
at his abrupt tone. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”

His finger
caressed my lower lip. “Open.” I didn’t want to. God, my mind
fought it, and yet I swallowed my pride and opened my mouth. His
finger slipped inside, and I wanted to bite down hard, but I
didn’t. “Suck.” I did that too. “Good girl,” he soothed. His other
hand came around my waist and brought me up against him.

I remained
calm, using my breathing to release the panic that tip-toed across
my body. Being blinded kept the fear alive inside me. This is what
he wanted—fear.

“Leave
us.”

I gasped, not
realizing we weren’t alone. I heard footsteps walk past us, then
the door opened and closed.