Four

 

 

Aria

There’s shouting upstairs. I should care but I don’t. Nothing matters anymore besides taking the drugs that numb my body and mind. I can’t even tell you how long I have been down in this pit of hell but it’s been long enough that I have been trained like Pavlov’s dog to drool over the goods. Popping those pills means temporarily numbing the pain and shame I feel. It means forgetting that I am in a basement with no way out. It means forgetting I am being held hostage by my mom’s ex-husband who has lost his damn mind. It means I don’t have to remember my mom is dead. That my life will never be the same.

I’m due for a fix but instead of Derek coming downstairs, he’s arguing with Weston. My body is freezing. I’m shivering and I need some damn pills or powder. My head is pounding and my thoughts are running wild and loud. I need something to dim them, to shut them up. I can feel an anxiety attack coming on. Grabbing the thin blanket that doubles as a fitted sheet, I wrap it around my body trying to warm myself up, trying to find comfort. It’s not working.

More shouting.

Can’t they argue later? Like after Derek brings me the damn drugs? I mean, seriously, it would take like two minutes to come down here, hand me the pills, and walk back up the stairs.

The shouting stops.

The door to the basement swings open and I sit up like Pavlov’s dog with my hands out, mouth dry, waiting for the drugs to numb me once again.

It’s not Derek. It’s Weston. Fucking great.

“Get on your fucking knees!” He barks out orders before he even makes it all the way down the steps. I want to argue and beg for my fix, but it will do no good. If anything, he will just withhold the drugs to torture me. I drop to my knees, close my eyes, and wait for whatever he has in store for me this time. Since I have been here, it seems that Weston comes down once every few weeks, but recently he’s been coming down more often.

I can’t see him with my eyes closed but I know when he is in front of me because his hands fist my hair. I try to think about something else, finding my escape, grasping at every fond memory that still lingers.

My mom, our visits to the Hoover Dam, our hiking trips in Red Rock Canyon. I focus on my good memories instead of what’s happening to me in this moment, what he’s forcing me to do. The pictures I used to take of the scenery during our hikes. How my mom used to stop at various locations and insist I take selfies of us. I swear she did it just to drive me nuts. “People ruin the photos,” I used to tell her. She would laugh and tell me I was wrong, it’s the people who make them. I try to hold onto the memories, cling to them like they are my lifeline, but they are getting harder to recall.

Those happy memories melt away like a skillet full of bright crayons all mixing together to make something black and ugly. It matches my heart. I’m decaying and lost.

He grunts and I shudder away the last of the color in my world.

“Up.” He’s finished with me and forces me to stand. I open my eyes to see Weston tucking himself back in his pants. “I have company tonight and you are going to entertain them. You understand?” He asks like I really have a choice. It’s not often he forces me to have sex with other men but when he does, he usually drugs me up first with the good stuff. While I hate that I have become dependent on drugs, I prefer it that way.

“I…” I close my mouth quickly. I almost slipped.

“You what?” Weston glares at me. “You what?” Smack! His palm hits me across my cheek.

“I need drugs… please,” I beg.

“You need drugs?” He looks at me incredulously. “You need drugs?” Now he’s laughing humorlessly. “You don’t need shit. I tell you when you need something. And if you ever ask again, I will make you wait even longer. Tonight, you will be sober. You will entertain these men, and every time you feel them inside of you, you will remember what a whore you are.” He grabs my face with his one hand and squeezes my cheeks. “And if you speak one single word, I will tear you apart after they leave.”

Leaning down, he gives me a soft kiss on my lips that has me wanting to throw up all over him. “Let’s go.”

“Upstairs?” Entertaining someone always means them coming down here. I haven’t been upstairs since I was forced down here.

“Shut the fuck up. What part of not speaking a single fucking word are you not understanding?”

I follow him upstairs and I am met with bright lights. My head pounds and I immediately feel dizzy. I haven’t eaten in hours and I am in desperate need of the drugs to calm me down.

I follow Weston to the living room of the home I have lived in since I was a little girl, and when I look around I am shocked at what I see. All the family portraits have been removed and in their place, are cheap looking paintings. My eyes glance at the shelves and see all my mom’s knickknacks are gone. It’s like he wiped everything of my mom and me from this home.

A myriad of emotions hit me all at once. Anger. Grief. Sadness. Confusion. This was my mother’s home. My home. It was our home before it was his, yet he has taken it over and has eliminated any proof that we ever existed. A man who supposedly at one time loved my mother has destroyed any evidence she was ever alive. Who is this man? How did he manage to fool everyone around him?

“Get her cleaned up,” Weston whispers to Derek angrily. Derek grabs me by my arm and pulls me into the guest bathroom. The picture frames that used use to sit on the sink are gone as is the toothbrush holder I made for my mom when I took art in middle school.

“Jump in the shower and rinse off.  Make sure you shave. Do it quickly.”

Once I am done showering and shaving I step out and dry off, waiting for further instruction. My body is shaking and my head and heart feel like they are going to explode. Derek notices and sighs. “You need to chill out, Aria. Weston isn’t going to give you anything until after you are done. Be a good girl and he will probably give you more.”

Chill out? Seriously? I didn’t even want this shit! They did this to me. They came into the basement and day after day drugged me to calm me down. Every time I screamed and cried and begged for them to stop and let me out, they shoved pills down my throat or gave me a bump of coke. They did this to me. They made me this way and now I’m supposed to chill out?

I don’t bother arguing. It’s no use. I just need to do as they say. I need to get this over with so I will get my drugs and be allowed to go back to my room. My room. The fact that I’m calling the basement my room sickens me. It’s a reminder that I have officially lost hope. That I have accepted I will most likely spend the rest of my life in that basement.

Derek guides me to the library where there are several men sitting around in the oversized reading chairs my mom and I picked out. They are drinking liquor and smoking cigars, stinking up our once perfect reading room. I remember the nights I used to curl up with my book and read while my mom wrote. She was a mystery romance author and would write for hours. Sometimes she would stop and read me her scenes and ask for my opinion. I shake the memory off because now is not the time to remember. When I remember, I feel, and when I feel, I hurt, and hurting right now isn’t going to do me a bit of good.

Taking a closer look, there are four men all over fifty years old. I recognize two of them from the dinners my mom and Weston used to throw. I know for a fact one of them is married with kids, and this knowledge puts the final nail in my coffin. These men have reputations to protect. There isn’t a single man in this room that would risk his reputation in order to save me.

“Aria, I think Mr. Nelson would like some attention.” Weston points to the fat slimy looking man sitting in my favorite reading chair. The man smiles at me causing me to throw up a little in my mouth.

All the men sit around the room discussing next year’s election, the poll numbers, and the campaign donations, like a young woman isn’t servicing a man three times her age. My hands continue to shake still needing something to take the edge off. As my brain tries to find its escape, I hear a door swing open.

“What are you doing here?” Weston’s voice sounds different. He sounds nervous, shaken. The man forcing himself on me pushes me away while the entire room goes quiet. I hit the floor flat on my ass before turning around to see who’s entered.

When I look up I see the most beautiful man lock eyes with me. From head to toe, he is the epitome of perfection. Messy chestnut brown hair that looks like he’s been running his fingers through it all day, soft brown eyes like milk chocolate that’s been warmed up. He’s in a three-piece suit, which hugs every inch of his body perfectly. It looks like it was designed just for him. He’s tall, well over six feet. But what catches my attention is his smile. It’s probably capable of being sweet, but it’s not. It’s filled with contempt with a bit of humor like he’s in on some private joke that nobody else is privy to. He towers over Weston exuding power and confidence. He’s sure of himself and of his place in this world. I remember when I had that same feeling, knowing the world was at my fingertips. When I had a bright future.

Normally Weston is the one in control, but right now he’s scared. He’s cracking his neck like he used to do when my mom would catch him in a lie and he wasn’t sure how to get himself out of it. His uninjured hand is opening and closing into a fist but he’s not towering like he usually is, instead he’s cowering. Whoever this man is holds more power than Weston.

Then it hits me. I need to speak up, try to save myself. If it doesn’t work, I will be in a world of hurt but what if it does work. Before I can say something, the man speaks. His eyes leaving mine.

“I heard you were holding an investment meeting tonight, so I figured I would drop by and check on my money. Your thirty days are almost up.”

“Weston, I think it would be best if we go.” The man who just had his nasty hands on me is now trying to run.

“I think you all should stay. I would imagine what I have to say will interest you. Mr. Nelson, is it?” Mystery man smiles sardonically at the guy who pushed me to the ground, causing him to shut up and frown, and it sends chills straight up my spine. “I could be wrong but I believe you have invested with Mr. Hightower. Am I right?”

“Well, yes you are. I did.”

“Giovanni, there’s no need to involve these men. Let’s speak in private.” Weston’s voice is shaky. He’s freaking the fuck out, and it kind of makes me smile a little on the inside.

The man Weston just called Giovanni quirks one brow up and tilts his head just slightly to the left silently shutting Weston up. If I wasn’t scared of the repercussions and without any clothes on, I would stand up and cheer him on.

“Are you aware that Mr. Hightower owes me a significant amount of money?”

“Weston, is this true?” One of the other men speaks up.

“Gentleman, I can explain.”

“You absolutely can explain, Mr. Hightower, right after you show me the progress you’ve made on getting me my money. I would hope you aren’t planning to wait until the last second to obtain that amount of money.” Giovanni never raises his voice. The way he speaks you would think he was placing a to-go order at a restaurant, yet his voice is strong and assertive. Every emotion is made known without even needing to yell. This man means business.

“I can pay you back some more of it. I don’t have it all. Come with me into my office.”

“Rome, Caesar.” Giovanni says two names and instantly two big burly men enter the room. They are similar to Giovanni in appearances, both in suits which fit them perfectly—great physique, and good looking—but they don’t hold the room like Giovanni does. They aren’t calm like he is. They must be his backup, his enforcers. They look angry and seem to lack the patience Giovanni has.

The two men grab Weston by his arms to escort him to his office, making me realize I need to speak up now before it’s too late. “I need your help, please.” My voice comes out hoarse from recently gagging, so I clear my throat and say it clearer. “I need your help, please.”

“Shut the fuck up, Aria.” Weston tries to get out of the men’s hold but they just tighten their grip on him. It gives me the confidence to stand up. This might be my only chance to be set free.

“H-He… Weston… He’s holding me captive. Please, can you call the police?” I stand up, and remembering I am naked, I wrap one arm around my chest to cover my breasts and with my other hand, I try to cover my sex the best I can.

Giovanni assesses me for a few moments. “Who are you?”

“She’s nobody! Don’t worry about her!” Weston’s outburst has Giovanni knowingly smirking. Weston just showed his cards.

Moving closer to Weston, Giovanni lets out a soft humorless chuckle. “I think I will worry about her because you seem extremely worried about her. Now shut your fucking mouth.” Then he walks over to me until we are only a few inches apart. “Who are you?”

“I-I’m Aria. My mom died… well, I’m not sure how long ago. But he’s been holding me captive in the—”

“Shut the fuck up, Aria!” Weston bellows, effectively cutting me off, and for the first-time Giovanni shows a hint of anger. He stalks over to Weston and punches him right in the face. His head jerks to the side and blood instantly pours from his mouth. “I told you to shut the fuck up.”

“Can you please call the police?” I beg. Giovanni walks slowly back toward me. Instinctively I tighten my arms around myself. He studies me for a moment before he raises his hand to my face. I flinch out of habit, fearful he’s going to strike me but instead he wipes a falling tear from my cheek, his face completely devoid of all emotion. “Please,” I repeat.

“No, I’m sorry but I can’t do that.” His hand leaves my cheek, taking its warmth with it.

“No.” The word is meant to be a question but I heard him correctly. It hits me that this man isn’t going to save me. More tears well up in my eyes, my chin trembling. My hands are shaking and I’m about to lose it. A sob escapes and tears gush down my cheeks. “No.” I repeat the word one more time to force myself to accept it.

“Maybe I’ll just take her as payment.” He’ll what? Did this guy just volunteer to take me as Weston’s payment?

“Boss.”

“No fucking way.”

One of Giovanni’s men and Weston both speak at the same time sounding just as confused as I feel but Giovanni ignores them both, keeping his eyes on me for a beat longer. I think maybe he is going to save me but then he turns his back on me and walks out of the room with Weston and his men.

“Please!” I implore as the door closes, leaving me in a room with Weston’s associates. I drop to my knees at how cruel life can be.