The feeling of foreboding sets in and I instantly stop laughing. I’m lead down a corridor by the big bald one, the floor and walls in much the same condition as my little room. These men don’t belong here, I wonder what kind of mess Isabella has gotten herself into now. She doesn’t deserve such a pretty name, she’s gutter trash and anything but. Small lights flicker here and there until we come to a stop in what must have once been a kitchen. The cupboards are either without doors, or they’re hanging by the hinges, the countertops broken and jagged here and there. Black smoke marks mar the walls where I’m guessing a fire was once started. This is a junkie’s haven for sure, a place I never thought I’d end up again. The same light hangs in the center of the room above a too polished dining table. It stands starkly out of place in this otherwise barren house? Am I in a house? I’m shoved down into a chair at the head of the table, before I can think about anything else, while Mr. Slick takes the one opposite. The two goons stay by the door. If I hadn’t been laughing a second ago I would be wetting myself around about now. A swift nod from their boss and one of the goons heads out of the kitchen. I snap my gaze back towards him, waiting and wanting to know why the fuck I’m here!
“Something funny Amelia?” he asks, his face emotionless but his piercing emerald eyes. I would be attracted to him if he hadn’t kidnapped me. I’ve heard of the Stockholm syndrome cases and I could never wrap my head around it, but now I can see the attraction. I could never understand it before because my attacker had ruined me. He’d made me hate myself, hate him and everyone else around me for a time.
“Who do you have?” I ask, holding my head high. Fuck the past, and everything along with it, I know he doesn’t have Gran and if he wants to play this game, then I’ll happily play my check mate. My mother had once shouted at me, or more like screeched in my face that I was nothing but a mistake and how she’d wished she’d had an abortion. Her words ring around my head a few times, remembering how badly her words had stung. I knew it wasn’t right, she wasn’t like my friends’ mothers. But she hadn’t aborted me, she had broken me, and I put myself back together. Over the years I’ve thought of the thousands of ways I could get my own back on her, and this might just be my only chance to try.
Bringing his hands in front of him and clasping them together he snaps me out of my thoughts before he waits a beat before replying. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to cower away in a corner, all the while standing my ground and showing him that he’s messed with the wrong girl. The sharp glint in his eye tells me he’s dangerous and my survival instincts fight their way to the surface. I know if I want to live I have to give him what he wants, but I won’t do that without fighting this time.
“Well here she is now” he looks over my shoulder, so I follow his line of sight. Sure, enough the bald goon is urging my mother into the room. Thinner than the last time I saw her, her blonde hair hangs in dirty, greasy strands around her frail face. The acne dotted across her already scared skin looks painful, and the dark circles under her eyes look like she’s carrying the weight of the world in them. The whites of her eyes are bloodshot, along with the premature wrinkles that mar her skin, she looks well over sixty in comparison to her early forties. I’m surprised to feel absolutely nothing. No shame or pity, no sorrow or the need to help. The sudden fleeting feeling of being totally free from this woman washes over me in a blissful wave. Anger, hurt and sadness leave me as I face the one person who should have protected me. Averting her hollow eyes towards anything but me, I turn my eyes back towards the head goon with no emotion on my face. I don’t feel anything for her anymore, and I doubt I ever will. That woman was supposed to be the one person who loved and cared for me, and she never did, she sold me out. Proud that I have finally let go of any emotion I had towards her, I push my shoulders back, ready to take on whatever this may be. Eyeing me across the table, Mr. Slick raises a questioning eyebrow in my direction. I raise mine in reply. What does he want me to do? Beg for her to be left alone? Fuck that. That woman made my life hell from the very beginning and I refuse to ever help her again. My arms start to itch under what I’m assuming are cable ties pulled tightly around them, I wriggle a little to ease it. My mother is pushed into the chair beside mine, anyone who walked in would think we were having a gross family dinner. A dingy one at that. I never let my eyes fall on her, but I can feel her looking at me.
“What do you want?” I ask again, my voice coming out firm and authoritative. If he wants business, then I will mean business.
“Your mother owes us a lot of money”
“And?”
A quick glance between me and her and I think he finally realizes that we aren’t on the best of terms. Ha! Lowering his gaze, he clamps his rough hands together before he looks up at me sternly through his thick lashes.
“She’s volunteered you as payment” his deep voice is laced with an undertone of darkness, and I wince slightly. Instead of fear and panic I feel nothing but rage. Pure, unhinged anger that she would do this to me not once but twice. Gathering my strength and sitting as straight as I can in my bound state I answer through gritted teeth.
“She can fuck off” I hiss, curling my lip up in the process.
“Amelia” she whispers.
“DON’T!” I yell, snapping my eyes to hers. “Don’t you fucking dare! I swear to god, if they don’t kill you I will” I snap my eyes back to his, unwilling to look at her.
“She’s not my mother, and I refuse to help her” I sigh a little before continuing.
“I’ll pay you if you let me go, what you do to her I couldn’t care. She ruined my life and I refuse to help her, you’ll have to find another way for her to pay her debts” My shoulders sag in slight relief, I’ll pay him for my freedom but certainly not hers.
A small whimper escapes her lips and a pang of guilt sets deep into my stomach. As much as I hate this woman, could I really walk away knowing what these men could do to her? Yes! She let them rape you! My head screams with vivid pain and memories threatening to break through and I scrunch my eyes shut, willing my mind to be quiet just this once. Seeming to contemplate my offer he raises his head but before he can answer, my subconscious kicks in and I ask, “How much does she owe you?” Licking around his teeth before he answers me,
“Seven figures” he says plainly. My mouth drops open in shock. How did she rack up that amount?
“How…?”
“Your mother borrowed money from us, took drugs from us, and worked for us but kept her earnings. Interest grows” he says with a shrug.
I could easily pay that, but fuck!
“Worked for you?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize what a stupid question that is in these circumstances.
“Spread her legs for money” he offers with a sick smirk. I realize that I’m dealing with the underworld here, and any guilt I felt for throwing her under the bus swims away like a half-dead fish. I couldn’t fucking care what they do to her. She deserves it.
“Fine. Untie me and agree to let me go and we’ll talk” I say flatly. With a swift nod of his head, one goon steps forward, drawing a blade that makes me inhale sharply before he shoves me forward and slices through the ties around my wrists. Bringing them in front of myself, I rub them like you see them doing on those cop shows. They really hurt being tied for, so long. Swollen, red skin scars my wrists and little droplets of blood start to ooze out of the cuts I made from tugging on them.
“Get rid of her” I nod towards the frail, mess of a woman beside me. Another nod from him and she’s gone. Okay, this is going well, at least he’s willing to bargain.
“Listen, you obviously know what I do for a living” I start as I mean to go on. I’ve swallowed my fear, shrinking it down to miniscule size. “You know I can pay you, but listen to me when I say I will not do anything for that woman”
Considering my reply for a second, he juts his clean-shaven chin up towards me, “Why?”
“It doesn’t matter”
“It does if I say so”
“Who the hell are you anyway?” I demand.
“The big bad wolf as far as you’re concerned”
I huff in laughter before continuing.
“Look, I don’t want this, and it’s clearly a fucking mess for you too. You want my money, fine ill pay you. But you agree to never come looking for me ever again”
“Hmm” he makes the sound before running his thumb and pointer finger across his pointy chin.
“What?”
“I didn’t think tonight would go like this. However, in my line of work we need to make sure you’re going to keep your word. And we don’t do contracts” he smirks.
“You have my word, I’ll get the money to you as soon as possible. You know people can’t get that type of cash out of the bank” I hiss. He stands, buttoning his suit jacket and in two long strides he’s beside me. I instantly stiffen, memories of being overcome by a man just like him overtake my mind, mingled with the painful ending and the pleasurable one from Liam. Grabbing my hair, he pulls hard enough that my neck is tight against the back of the wooden chair. My arms instinctively go up to where he’s grabbed me, I try in vein to pull his hands away. This isn’t how Liam held me, this is pain.
“You will pay us, and your word isn’t good enough. But we have to make sure you won’t blab your mouth around your legal circle darling” he spits. Minty breath laced with a hint of Tabaco wafts over my face.
“What do you want from me?” I almost whisper.
“We’re just going to rough you up a little, just enough to scare your pretty self of defaulting on a payment” he slaps my cheek playfully before giving his goon another nod.
“Wait!” I almost shout. Turning on his heel he faces me, cocking a manicured brow expectantly.
“I can pay you in two instalments. It won’t take that long.” I lie, I have no idea where I’m going to get that type of cash.
“Yeah? Make sure of that and you won’t have to endure this again. Thank your mother for being a good for nothing whore” he spits before turning and leaving. Fear sets in and I want to beg, plead with him to not do whatever it is he has planned.
The big bald one, who hasn’t moved from his spot by the door comes and grabs me by my hair, increasing the stabbing pain in my skull. Throwing me out of the door, I nearly stumble across the gaps in the floorboards but manage to right myself by grabbing the wall, before he shoves me further down the hallway. Doors hang by their hinges, giving way to numerous other destroyed rooms. I wonder if this was once a family home, where children would laugh and play. Once inside the room I was in originally, he shoves me into the wall. All thoughts of happy children, and a pleasant childhood filter away. A small tear escapes me, flowing down my cheek in mourning for the wall I thought I’d epically built and how little it took to make it come crumbling down. I try and mentally prepare myself for the worse, but who knows what that could be?
I will my mind to travel to better things, Becca’s wedding, the business, Liam. Fuck! Why didn’t you listen to him? All the possible what if’s travel around like carousel in my brain and I can’t help but be consumed by them. I hated Liam, I loved him, I loathed, and I craved him. But he didn’t need me as much as I needed him. I don’t even know if he’s looking for me, and why would he? Deep down I know everything’s over. I know that he won’t take me back, I don’t know what shape the business will be in when I get back. When I get back. IF. If I get back.
With a swing of his arm out of the corner of my eye I see his fist flying towards me before the pain evaporates around my head. Each blow he delivers to me hurts like hell, but I trained myself to keep the pain inside years ago. The crunch of skin on skin beckons around the room, and I wince and cry out as quietly as I can, already understanding that men like him live off people’s pain. Vivid flash backs happen as I close my eyes, but the pain keeps me grounded, willing me back to the now. My eye starts to swell closed, and on deciding he’s done ruining my face, the next few blows land on my stomach. Curling over I stumble to the floor, crashing my face into the splintering wood. Smashing my lips together when he kicks my ribs into shards of bone to not let him know how much he’s hurting me. I try in vein to attack back, kicking my legs out with the hope that I’ll hit him somewhere special.
My hands claw at nothing in an attempt to save an inch of my body left unbruised. Panic slithers its way around my chest, weaving its way around each broken rib. I’m sore and bruised. My mouth is full of acidic blood, and I pray that I haven’t lost any teeth. After what feels like an eternity the pain stops and everything goes deadly quiet.