Chapter Two

Alana

Celia Whittaker was reported missing last fall. She was a beautiful brunette, with freckles dotted along her cheeks and a bright smile. I remembered seeing her photo on the television for weeks and on the front page of every paper. The Whittaker family kept searching and tried to keep hope alive with candlelight vigils and flyers everywhere. I could still remember the horror reflected on my mother’s face the afternoon Celia’s disappearance was broadcast. For weeks on end, she prayed for her and the Whittaker family. Now, my poor mother was living the nightmare firsthand. It made me sick to my stomach to think of what she was going through, what my dad and Aaron were going through. With so many kidnapping stories in the media, I never imagined I could become a statistic, a victim.

“I know you. You were on the news.” Catching a glimpse of hope on her face, I continued, “Your family misses you. They’re looking for you.” As soon as the words left my mouth, the small light in her eyes evaporated.

“My family is dead,” Celia whispered back, emotionless.

“No. Your mom was on the news a few weeks ago holding another candlelight vigil for you.”

Her family never gave up believing their daughter would come home, but as news trickled out, searches were stopped, and the people of our community did. And now I was staring at the girl lost to everyone. No longer smiling brightly, Celia was despondent and sorrowful. It was a heart-wrenching sight. Where Celia was once healthy, she’d lost a lot of weight and her skin had taken on an ashy pallor. Looking at her was like looking at a ghost. But I knew the truth. It was a glimpse of the future. My future. Celia had been missing almost eight months and no one had found her. How long would I be kept prisoner alongside her?

“Impossible,” she replied angrily. “My mother has been dead for over three months. Master killed her when I tried to run.”

Thinking of her words, I remembered how the man threatened me with the death of my family if I didn’t listen to his demands. If Celia attempted to run and her family was still alive, would he really kill mine? Or would he torture me with the news of their death, for his own sick pleasure? Would believe him? Celia had lived with this man’s torment for months, thinking she was the reason her mother was dead. No wonder she lost all hope.

“Celia, I swear to you, your mom is alive. She’s never stopped looking for you. They’ll find you. They’ll find us.”

“You’re awfully naïve, aren’t you? What’s your name anyway?”

“Alana. Alana Masters.”

“Well, Alana Masters, I am Celia Jane Whittaker, but I guess you know my name already,” she said with a sheepish shrug.

“What is this place, Celia?”

“This is Purgatory. Or at least I’ve heard him call it Purgatory. Girls come and go. Some stay months, some only last a few weeks. I’ve been here the longest.”

“How did he take you?”

“I was coming home from a soccer game. Dad was in surgery and Mom was home with my sister. She had chicken pox. I decided to walk home from the game with some friends. My friends lived on the same street, so after walking them home, I continued to my house. I had this really creepy sixth-sense thing, ya know? Like someone was watching me. All of a sudden, I got grabbed from behind and the next thing I knew, I was waking up here.”

So close to home. Exactly like me. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I was walking to school. I was so worried about being late after being up all night talking on the phone. I was super mad at my brother too. He got on my last nerve. But mostly, I was happy. We’ve got this dance coming up at my school and my dad agreed to take me. I wasn’t even paying attention when he grabbed me. He looked so normal, so harmless.”

“Looks can be deceiving. He’s the Devil. Purgatory is his own special brand of hell and torture. And if you step one foot out of line and do something wrong? Well, let’s say he’s quick to punish.”

“Punish? Punish how?” The memory of the sharp sting on my cheek where he’d slapped and punched me earlier chilled me. I wondered how much worse it could get. After a bit of silence, Celia confirmed my terrified thoughts.

“He’s got a room. A torture room. When girls misbehave, they’re sent there for punishment. It’s not pretty, Alana. It’s painful. I haven’t gotten the worst of it, but some girls have. Some girls have gone in normal and come out insane after what he does to them. They’ve gone mad, Alana. Mad.”

“How many have there been before me?”

“Three since I’ve been here. Probably even more before me.”

“Where are they?”

Celia didn’t answer; she didn’t have to. Her face said it all. Letting out a whimper, my fear manifested itself all over again. How naïve had I been to think the man would let me go? He’d had Celia for months and who knows how many other girls before her. Would I ever make it out of here alive? Would I ever see my parents or Aaron again? Ryan would probably be beside himself wondering what happened to me. We’d almost gone to the next step, to express the love we shared, and it was all gone. I wanted him to hold me again. Anything but the hell surrounding me now.

Panicking, I shut my eyes and covered my ears, not wanting to hear anything else Celia had to say. Sinking into a ball on the mattress, I tried to control my breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. I had to remind myself over and over again to inhale. In the midst of my panic attack, the tears came pouring out. Wiping my face, I leaned over and threw up until the bile stung the back of my throat and nothing was left. Crying harder, I tried to make myself as small as possible, wishing I could disappear. I cried for hours until I fell asleep with dried tear tracks down my cheeks, fear in the pit of my stomach, and the stench of vomit wafting through the air.

When I awoke, my body ached, and I curled on the piss-stained mattress, tracing the edges of faded brown spots. Would I be relegated to this? Stains left behind long after he was done with me? I probably would. My captor controlled this domain, and no matter how hard I may fight him, he’d win. How did I win? Could I? I buried my face in the mattress and choked on my tears. My throat ached, and the scratchiness behind my closed eyelids taunted me.

Tears won’t make it better, Alana.

But I couldn’t stop them anyway.

“I’m sorry, Alana.”

I didn’t react to Celia. I couldn’t prepare for what had never happened to me. Not like Celia. I wasn’t ready. How could I be? Hearing a noise, I turned my attention to the door, thinking the man had finally come off his throne and decided to swallow me whole. Shaking, I prayed he’d take Celia. It was horrible, but I didn’t want him to touch me. But to my surprise, it was not my captor. Instead, it was a boy my age. Brown eyes, brown hair, and standing perhaps six-foot-tall, he had broad shoulders and sharp features. He looked like the man who took me, yet different. Softer, maybe, and gangly in his youth. Creeping toward my cage, he spoke no words. The silence between us was deafening but comfortable, as if we knew one another. Kind eyes scanned me a moment before he lifted a finger to his lips. Celia nodded, and I was confused. Who was he? The darkness in his eyes, the fear, I could relate to it. Before I could speak a word, he did.

“Don’t be frightened. I’m Jacob.”

Jacob. It was a simple name, but one I could hold on to in this place, like Celia’s.

Celia frowned at him. “Why are you here?”

Jacob winked at her, and my heart stuttered in my chest when he tossed her a lopsided grin. What the hell was wrong with me? When his gaze swung back to me, I shrank away. I didn’t want him to see me like this, and whatever he held in his hands wrapped in a paper towel terrified me. Was this a test?

“I wanted to meet you, Alana.”

My name on his lips froze me. “You know my name. How do you know my name?”

“My father, the bastard, is the one who did this to you.”

I wanted to be frightened. I wanted to protect myself. The other part of me wanted to rage at him. If he knew about me, why hadn’t he come before? Why now? Instead, I looked at this as an opportunity. I wasn’t sure for what yet, but I knew I could somehow work this to my advantage if I played it right.

“What do you want from me? Do you want to hear me scream? Is your father going to be there too?”

It all came tumbling out, a temptation, a fear, a challenge. I wanted to know what would happen to me. His face morphed—his lips curled and narrowed, anger glinting in his eyes. I knew my comment angered him, and perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken. A part of me was afraid of what he could do, but the other half wanted to keep fighting, to feel something. I could fight him, I may even be able to break free.

“Don’t you ever fucking compare me to him. I may be a lot of things, but I am not my father!”

“So I’m supposed to believe you want nothing from me? You have to want something!”

“I don’t want anything you wouldn’t be willing to give me, Alana. When you submit to me, when you give yourself over to me, I want it to be because you want to. I want you to want to bleed at my hands, have me inside you. I want you to crave it. I want you, Alana, but the difference between my father and I is I won’t force you.”

His words didn’t do much to soothe my fears, but some of my anxiety faded as the truth rang in the air. I knew I should fight back against his words; they were still threats, though they were gentler than his father’s. I feared what would happen if I pushed too hard against him. My life was a strategy game; I needed to keep the upper hand.

“Okay,” I whispered. I gave him what he needed, now I wanted to know more in return. “When will he come back?”

“Soon. He doesn’t stay away from new toys very long. I can’t stay here, or he’ll catch me.”

“What will he do to me?”

“What he does with all the others. Kill you after he’s done having you.”

“No! No, no, no. We need to get out of here. Can you help us?”

It was a risk, what I was asking, I knew it. But the threat of dying spurned me on. If Jacob could help, I’d take what I could get.

Jacob shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not strong enough to,” he said. “But I won’t let him kill you, Alana. I promise.”

“You can’t make a promise like that.”

“I just did.”

He made it sound so simple. As if he hadn’t promised to not let me die at the hands of his father, the man who’d raised him. And the funny thing was, I believed him. I had every reason to be afraid, to not trust the son of a monster, but I did.

As his hand passed through the bars, I wondered what he was trying to do. Thinking he was trying to touch me, I backed further away from him.

“It’s okay. It’s some Pop-Tarts. I thought you might be hungry.”

“Pop-Tarts?”

“Yes. Blueberry. They’re my favorite.”

“Mine too.”

I saw the surprise register on his face and was happy to have caught him off guard. The Pop-Tarts looked delicious. Was it a day ago I ate one in my home for breakfast?

My expression changed almost immediately to a blank slate, and the boy noticed.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

“This was the last breakfast I had before your father took me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I can take them. I’ll get you something else.”

“No. No. This is fine. Thank you.”

Taking the Pop-Tart from his hand, I inhaled the sweet aroma. Immediately, I bit into the treat Jacob had given me. My taste buds exploded under the taste of blueberries and frosted goodness. Licking my lips, I took another bite and then another. I couldn’t get enough of the Pop-Tart. Maybe it reminded me of home. Or I could act, for a few moments, like I hadn’t been taken. Practically inhaling my treat, I could hear the boy, Jacob, chuckle. He’d given one to Celia, too, and she smiled up at him.

“S-so-sorry,” I stuttered out, wiping my lips with a swipe of my hand.

“Don’t be. I figured I was the only one who loved them as much as I do. Did.”

“Did?”

“I guess both of us have bad memories associated with Pop-Tarts and my father.” Jacob’s face hardened, no trace of the chuckling boy from moments prior.

“I’m sorry.”

“I should be the one apologizing to you. My father is keeping you prisoner.”

“That’s true, but you are the only one to show me any type of kindness since Celia. This is … nice.”

He smiled again, and I found myself smiling back. “No problem. I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back.”

He slipped up the stairs on silent feet, taking the paper-towel evidence of his visit, and my gaze followed him until he disappeared through the door.

I looked at Celia, incredulous. “Is he for real, Celia?”

She sighed. “He’s his father’s son, but I don’t know if he has a choice. When I have to clean upstairs, sometimes, I see him get beaten.”

“He’s trapped like we are,” I said.

“No, not like us. He doesn’t have to stay in a cage.”

“There are different types of cages,” I whispered.

And maybe I was making excuses for him. He sort of reminded me of Ryan—cocky and sweet wrapped up in one because he hadn’t really come into his own. It was out of place here, his kindness, but I appreciated it.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she said.

“We can’t lose hope, Celia.”

“This isn’t a place for hope. It’s a place to survive until you die. Jacob is supposed to fuck the toys, did you know? His father wants him to be like him. Hasn’t been able to knock a toy up and have her survive to delivery.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wants heirs, little boys who will grow up like him.”

“So what’s different about Jacob?”

“You heard what he wants to do to you too. Only difference? He’ll ask you first. There is no way out of here.”

I didn’t want to accept she was right. I didn’t want to give up on getting out of here. And maybe it was silly to hold on to Jacob as a chance, but I couldn’t help it. I had to find a way to get out, and if it meant letting Jacob believe I would go along with what he wanted from me, so be it.

Later, the darkness surrounded me, and I believed I was back home in my own bed, with my family, and this was nothing more than a nightmare. Unfortunately, from the second I opened my eyes, I could tell this was not my room. I was still locked in the cage, kept a prisoner.

“Alana … Psst … Alana,” Celia called out.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to warn you. The man will be doing checks soon. He does them every morning.”

Muscles stiff from a restless sleep on a hard mattress, dread filled my stomach at the thought of him coming back. As I tried to stretch my aching limbs, my hand flew to my cheek, the remaining sting reminding me of his palm smacking against it. I didn’t want to see the evil reflected in those eyes ever again. I never wanted his hands on me. Summoning all my strength, I stood and gathered my resolve to not let him affect me. I may have been his prisoner, but I was still Alana Masters. I was not his. Despite what he thought, I was my own person.

Whistling echo through the air, the door above the staircase opened and the man came walking down the stairs, a tray in hand.

“Be quiet and agree with everything he says. Okay, Alana?”

I couldn’t bring myself to respond with the terror rising in me, so I nodded my head.

“Good morning, girls. It’s a beautiful morning outside.” He chuckled before he continued, “But I guess you wouldn’t know, huh?”

Every bone in my body shook in fear at his sadistic laugh and the evil grin on across his face. I was absolutely terrified of this man and what he could do to me.

“Celia Jane, I hope you’ve been a good girl while I was gone.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I trust you told Alana how things work around here.”

“Some of it, Master.”

“Good girl, Celia. You’ll be rewarded tonight.”

From the moment he walked in, Celia had completely changed. Where she’d been serious and determined moments before, she now looked submissive, eager to please. Answering only in short sentences, Celia addressed him as Master each time. I remember his parting remark from yesterday and wondered if that was how I was really supposed to address him. It made me cringe thinking about it.

“Breakfast is served, ladies. I’ll be down in an hour to collect your plates.”

I was confused. Utterly confused. He’d taken me—stole me from my parents and everything I knew and loved—yet he could act like everything was sunshine and daisies and offer us breakfast like he hadn’t kidnapped us. And to top it off, he was ignoring my presence, overlooking me as if I were nothing but a piece of trash.

Unlocking the cages, he placed our meals on the floor. When he was finished, he turned and began to walk up the steps. He looked over his shoulder, directly at me, his eyes black with rage and his words echoing in my head. “Training starts today, Alana. Eat up if you want to live through it.”

After he was gone, I looked down to find a bowl of bland oatmeal and a piece of toast sitting before me. A banana was to the side of the plate as if it had been added as an afterthought. Far from appetizing, the meal began to turn my stomach.

“Eat it, Alana. If you don’t, it will make things worse. Trust me.”

No, I wasn’t going to take this. I couldn’t. I picked up the tray and threw it as hard as I could at the bars of my cage. He could eat it.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Celia cautioned.

“I’m not going to lie down and take this,” I argued.

“I tried to warn you.”

“Oatmeal was never a favorite of mine. It was always more of Aaron’s, my brother’s. Aaron would have Mom buy the flavored kinds, and whenever he wasn’t eating his Cocoa Puffs, he was shoveling in mouthfuls of peach or apple cinnamon oatmeal,” I said, filling the space. Oh God, Aaron. Yesterday I was so mad at him and wishing I would never see him again. They say to be careful what you wish for.

Tears clogging my throat, I tried to hold back from crying. Much as I tried to keep the fear at bay, I could not. I had gone from innocent and free to captive. My world as I knew it was irrevocably changed, and I knew the worst was yet to come. The terror overtook my mind, images flooding through it of what this man could do to me. Would I ever make it out of here alive? Thinking of my inevitable death and of the nightmare my parents must be going through, I leaned over and emptied what little I had in my stomach.

Hearing the door, I scrambled to sit up as the man’s heavy boots hit the stairs. Forgoing the glasses and dress pants, he was dressed in black jeans with a tight, black thermal shirt clinging to his body. Seeing the well-defined muscles set me on edge thinking of the power he could assert over me, the pain he could inflict. Holding back a sob, I scooted as far back on the mattress as I possibly could. The fear of never leaving became much greater as he set his black-as-coal eyes on me.

“Alana, Alana, Alana,” he began in a malicious tone.

He shook his head, spying the oatmeal but stepping the goo anyway. My stomach leapt up into my throat and my heart began beating faster.

“Your parents are looking for you. They’re sick with worry. Their poor, precious Alana … missing. You take a mighty fine picture, young lady. It’s all over the front of the newspaper this morning. Little Alana Masters, presumed missing, last seen leaving for school. Your parents will be on the news today, seeking sympathy and begging people to find their precious little girl. I’ll let you in on a little secret. They’ll never find you.”

Fear turned into anger as he mocked my parents’ pain. How dare he talk about them? How dare he act so nonchalant about the fact he stole me away from them? He was the one causing their panic and pain. His cruelness knew no bounds. Celia was right. This man was the Devil.

“They will find me!” I yelled.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“They won’t give up on me.”

“You have fight in you, girl, and I like that. More to beat out of you,” he hissed at me.

“I’m not—”

“Careful, cunt. You wouldn’t want me to punish you.”

As tears streamed down my face, the man looked positively gleeful for taunting me so cruelly. He was getting off on seeing me in pain, seeing my tears. He was one sick son of a bitch and I had yet to see what else he could do to me. He looked like the kind of man who took pleasure from kicking puppies and picking fights for the hell of it. And he kept it all buried underneath a disguise of wholesomeness. He opened the cage and climbed in with me, pressing me back against the bars. The cold metal bit into my skin.

“It’s time, little girl.”

“Time for what?” I understood too late my mistake when he lifted his beefy hand high in the air and swung, sending me down to the mattress. Nerve endings sizzled along my cheek, and my eye throbbed in my skull.

“What did I tell you to call me?” His beady eyes narrowed in on me.

“Master.” What else could I say? My body crawled with nerves and pain, my face hot with the reminder. I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled to keep from screaming at him.

“That is how you should address me at all times. If you do not, you will be punished with a whipping. Twelve lashes from my belt should make your gorgeous ass the perfect shade of red. The only reason I’m being lenient and not beating your ass bloody is because your training is beginning today.”

“T-To-Today?” I stuttered.

“Right now, to be precise.”

The terror gripped my heart and wrenched at it. He backed out of the cage, a cruel look on his face. Once he was right outside my cell, he stopped.

“Get your ass over here right now. You have until the count of three. One … Two …”

Scrambling off the soiled mattress as fast as I possibly could, I sprinted over to the monster waiting for his next demand.

“Take your clothes off, little girl. All of them.”

I shook my head. I wouldn’t strip for him. I stood tall, fingers clenched into fists at my sides. I couldn’t force myself to give in, despite the fear. Could I live with myself if I did?

He approached me slowly, stalking until he stood before me. “You take them off, or I fuck your pretty ass right here. Would you like that?”

No!

With shaky hands, I lifted off my tank top, wringing it in my hands before letting it drop on the floor. Moving to my jeans, I tried to unbutton them, but my uncooperative fingers shook.

“Hurry up! Hurry the fuck up.”

Finally getting them unbuttoned, I rushed to get them pulled down. Letting my pants drop to my ankles, I was left only in my bra and panties.

“All of it,” he snapped, growing impatient with me.

No one had ever seen me in my underwear. Nor had they ever seen me fully naked. I wasn’t a prude, but Ryan and I were waiting until homecoming to take our relationship any further than some heavy make-out sessions and groping. With fear clawing at my insides, I took a deep breath, unhooked my bra, and pulled my panties down, leaving me completely bare to the monster’s leering eyes.

“Good girl. While you’re training, you will only be naked. Once you can prove to Master how good you can be then, and only then, will you be given clothes.” Taking a whiff of the air, his lip curled. “In the meantime, you smell absolutely putrid. It’s time to groom you to perfection, little girl.”

The look in his eyes turned more devilish, if that were even possible. He began leading me away from Celia and Purgatory until we stood at a door at the far end of the room. Walking through the door, my eyes immediately fell on a large bathtub centered in the middle of the room, a shower in one corner and a toilet in another.

With a smirk on his face, he called me over to the tub. I stood, shaking, as he filled it with warm water. The steam from the tub filled the room, and I had to admit the thought of being clean again tempted me.

“Ah, you can’t wait to be clean, can you, little girl? But before I allow you to have a bath, I think you need to do something for me.”

“Wh-What, Master?”

Unzipping his jeans, he took out his erection. Of all the times Ryan and I had fooled around, I never saw him fully exposed. Fear washed over me once more as the man gripped himself in his hand. His shaft wasn’t very long, but it was thick. Turning my head, I clenched my eyes shut, refusing to look at him.

“No, no, no. Don’t do that. Don’t close your eyes. Open them up, sweet cheeks, and get on those knees of yours. I want to see how good your little whore mouth is.”

I shook my head, but he gripped the back of my head and pushed me down until my knees hit the cold cement floor.

“Open your fucking mouth, whore.”

Too scared to open my mouth or eyes, I wasn’t prepared for the hit that followed. Pain exploded across my face. Heat from the sting spread as I cupped my cheek. Grabbing me once more by the hair, his hand landed on my jaw, prying open my mouth. One minute, I was on my knees, terrorized. The next, my mouth was full to the brim and my eyes were flying open in time to see the man’s hands land on my cheeks. Beginning to fuck my mouth, I choked on him. Eyes watering, my throat constricted, air supply dwindling. In reaction, I bit down.

“You fucking cunt!”

He punched the side of my head, sending stars dancing across my vision, and stuffed his shaft deeper. Cutting off circulation, he choked me until I released my grip with my teeth, eager to take a breath.

“Should have been a good girl.”

He took time stringing me between breathlessness and gagging. My jaw ached, and I couldn’t catch a decent breath without keeping my mouth open wide in preparation for those rare moments of oxygen.

Shame overwhelmed me. I was sick to my stomach thinking about him filling my mouth. I had never done this. I didn’t want this. But that monster didn’t care. My pain was fodder for him to get off. Fucking my mouth harder, my throat grew raw, and I struggled for breath. He was using me like a dirty toy, treating me as if I were nothing but a prostitute. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the man groaned as his seed coated the back of my throat, making me gag around him.

“So good, precious, so good,” the man rasped out in pleasure as I shuddered in disgust. “Get up and into the tub.”

Without a word, I scrambled into the bath, falling against the porcelain. Timid and submissive, exactly how he wanted me. After what I had gone through, I needed to clean every inch of my skin. I needed to sanitize his touch from my body. As I sank deep into the water, all I could think about was drowning myself. How slipping underneath the water and letting it overcome me would be better than ever having to live through this. I never wanted to have that vile man’s anything anywhere near me again. But as he began washing my back, my heart wrenched. This was only the beginning. With a man this cruel, things would only get worse.