Dawn

A week passed where I was in and out of sleep. Every time I woke—mostly in a coughing fit—either Elijah or Joslyn were there, comforting me. I was so used to taking care of myself that I always expected to wake back up in the cell.

I kept having dreams of what I’d been forced to live through over and over. The times I woke up coughing, the two made sure I could catch my breath before having me drink warm tea and honey.

By the fifth day, my fever and sore throat were getting worse. The coughing also seemed to grow worse by the hour, and so did my nightmares. Everything began to blur together. I could no longer tell the difference between my dreams and reality.

On day eight, I woke up by myself, finally being able to breathe without hacking up a lung. The dull sunlight lit the room and the window was open, letting in fresh air. I could faintly hear voices out in the hall.

I stretched my stiff body out, happy I was no longer achy. I was tired but felt more rested—more human. It had been years since I’d actually felt human. I wasn’t sure how to take it.

I could feel my hair sticking to my face and neck. I was too scared to get up or move too much, as I wasn’t sure what was expected of me, even though the idea of a shower was at the front of my mind.

As I brought my hand up to my face to rub my crusted eyes, I noticed I had a needle taped into my vein on the back of my hand. The movement caused it to pull slightly. When did that happen?

“Sorry about the IV,” Elijah said as he entered the room, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark blue shirt. He looked tired but seemed to be happy I was awake. “I had my father look you over a couple days ago, since you weren’t getting better. He started an IV full of fluids and antibiotics for pneumonia and strep throat. With how you lived for so long, he was surprised you weren’t worse, but was also afraid of how fast you could go downhill without the proper treatment.

“Since you’re on the mend, my father can remove the IV, but you’ll still have to take meds until the infection is gone. You can take a shower and get some food afterward.”

“Okay, Sir,” I said, my voice scratchy from lack of use.

“Good to see you awake, child,” greeted a man with black hair. His face was open and warm as he looked me over. His light blue eyes shone with trust and compassion. I felt like I’d met this man before.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he took hold of my wrist, checking my heart rate before proceeding to remove the IV. He was gentle as he removed it and put a Band-Aid on the spot. He didn’t touch me more than necessary, for which I was thankful.

“Better, Sir,” I said, trying to keep my eyes down from his.

“Good to hear,” the man smiled. He retreated a few steps, giving me more than enough room to be able to get up. I could feel him staring at me. I had to wonder why—why did he feel obligated to even treat me?

“Go take a shower. I’ll get some clothes for you while you’re in there and set them on the counter. When you’re done, I will do your hair, and then you will eat some food,” Elijah said gently, before he stood and let me get up. His voice wasn’t demanding or stern, but calm and open. I was used to how roughly men usually spoke to me, and it was a nice change—as long it was kept that way, which I doubted.

I slowly made my way off the bed, trying my best to ignore the worried eyes watching me. I noticed my clothes were different than the ones I had last had on. The shorts were a little too big, but they were cute with white and pink hearts. The tank top fit me perfectly. I had to wonder who’d changed me. I knew my body was covered in scars. Did that mean whoever changed my clothes saw them?

My bare feet touched the soft cream carpet, as I worked to keep myself upright. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle; I had suffered pain on a daily basis. It took me a little longer to get moving, but at least I could do so without help for the most part. Elijah did follow, silently, obviously to make sure I didn’t fall.

Once I reached the bathroom, I relieved myself, as my bladder had made itself painfully known. After the water had warmed up, I stepped in the shower and cleaned my body from head to toe. It felt just as great as the last time.

This was one thing I could certainly get used to.

Once I finished and felt much more like my old self, I found the clothes Elijah had put on the counter: a simple matching bra and underwear set, along with dark pink yoga pants that had a flower design along the side. There was also a light pink tank top and a long-sleeved shirt to put over it.

Elijah, once again, sat on the bed like last time. He smiled gently, almost sadly in a way, as I reached the bed. I sat on the edge as well, too worn out to keep my body on alert, letting my shoulders sag.

He began to brush out my wet hair. It wasn’t as tangled, as it had still been in a braid from before. I found it soothing once again, and would have purred if I had the ability.

Why was he so nice?

“All done,” he stated after he had once again braided my hair in a French twist.

“Thank you, Sir,” I replied.

“Not a problem,” he muttered. “Now, how ‘bout we go downstairs and eat some food.” He made his way off the bed, and I followed, knowing the statement was more a command than anything else. He entwined his hand gently with mine and led me downstairs.

The hallway was lined with beautiful pictures of nature. I didn’t stop to look too closely, but would love to if I got the chance. I had no idea what this man had planned for me. He could very well turn around and sell me again, since I was now healthy. Well, healthier than I was when he bought me.

The carpet, the same cream color as the bedroom, was soft and clean against my feet. In the house I grew up in, the carpet was dirty, no matter how hard my mother tried to clean it. Some of the threads would poke the bottoms of my feet if I l stepped just right. Not to mention, the bare spots would easily cut my soles.

I followed the man down the wide stairs that led to an open entryway with more pictures, and a sort of western style table near the main doors. A few of the pictures were of nature: a tree in a dry field, mountains, and a sunset. I had never seen such art before.

“This way,” he stated, rounding the corner towards the right.

I came into what was a massive kitchen. It looked like it came right out of a show home.

“Go sit,” he said, as he nodded towards the round oak table that seated four, and let go of my hand at the same time. The chairs were high backed and fitted with dark red cushions.

I walked slowly to the table. I didn’t dare walk faster than my body could handle on such weak legs. I knew it’d take a bit of time to become stronger.

Elijah brought two bowls of steaming bean soup to the table, right as I sat down, along with a big chunk of toast. My stomach growled at the smell. Taking a little sip of the soup, I found that I liked the flavor. It wasn’t too salty like I expected.

I think I had just found one of my favorite foods ever—as long as this man made it, of course.

“I have a list for you to look over tomorrow, once you’re more yourself. I don’t expect you to be up to reading it and thinking clearly right now with you still recovering. It will include a list of things I expect from you, along with a list of things I would like you to do, but are up to you if you want to do them,” Elijah said as we both ate. He ate much faster than I did, as I was trying to not make it look like I was starving, even though I was. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a decent meal like this.

“I do expect you to be able to communicate with me on any issues or concerns you have. I know most of the things will take time and understanding on my part, but it’s all for you. Everything I do is to help you.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, keeping my eyes down. Why would he want to do things for me? Wasn’t I to do things for him?

It was a weird concept, but one I thought sounded nice.

“I also have a list of ways you will be punished if a situation calls for it. I know a little about what you went through. I can guarantee you will be treated with respect in this house and among my family and friends. I do not require any sexual services of any kind from you,” he continued. “Emily, my sister-in-law, will be a wonderful person for you to talk to. She has gone through something similar.”

“Emily?” I asked, more to myself than the man who sat across from me. I knew a girl named Emily. She was made to watch while I serviced a man because he had given her to Master Galvin as a ‘gift’. She had been a blubbering mess the entire time. Just thinking about it made me shudder.

“Do you know her?” Elijah asked, tilting his head to the side as he watched me for any indication.

“I might. . . Sir,” I answered, glancing at him. “I didn’t know many others there, but a girl named Emily watched when I had to give a man a blow job.”

“I see. . . Well, I guess we'll find out in a few days when she comes by,” Elijah said, not at all surprised by my words. “Are you done?”

“I guess so, Sir,” I answered. I wished for more but was afraid to ask.

“What about some TV then?” he suggested, standing up and taking the bowls and his to the sink.

“If it pleases you, Sir,” I replied awkwardly.

“Okay, the ‘Sir’ thing is going a little too far. You don’t have to say it all the time,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay . . .”

Shaking his head, he led the way from the kitchen to the living room. The room had black leather furniture and a huge flat screen TV was mounted on the wall.

“Sit down wherever you want,” he said.

Elijah sat on the couch, watching and waiting for what I would do. I stood there, not knowing what place to pick. He had said this house would not be anything like I had previously known, but that didn’t help knowing where I should sit. I had always been told what to do, down to how and where to do it.

Undecided and afraid of making a mistake, I made my way towards Elijah and knelt at his feet. It was the easier choice. Men always liked the girls to be on the floor. I hoped Elijah would be the same. I didn't want to make a mistake and be punished. I really would love to curl up in the big oversized chair with a blanket, or even sit on the couch near him.

He gently ran his fingers along my braided hair. As he moved his hand towards my chin, I couldn’t help but lean into his palm and close my eyes. His touch was so much warmer than the men who touched me before now.

It didn't make sense.

“Although I like you kneeling for me, little girl, now really isn’t the time,” he stated calmly. “How about you come up here and sit beside me.” He patted the seat next to him.

I instantly stood, and sat on the couch. My body sank into the cushions; it was almost as soft as the bed. Elijah pulled me by my shoulders so I was leaning against him. I was amazed I wasn't scared. His warmth and old spice smell soothed my nerves. I felt a tingling of déjà vu. I couldn’t remember where, but I knew that smell.

Here, wrapped in his arms, I felt protected. It had been too long since I’d felt that way. I knew it wouldn’t last, even though I wanted nothing more than that for the rest of my life.

Lost in thought, I jumped in surprise when a cell phone began to ring with some sort of loud song I had never heard before. Elijah rubbed my arm with the end of his fingers to calm me as he turned the TV to mute. I didn’t even notice that he’d turned it on.

“Hello,” Elijah answered. “How did she find out?” His voice stayed calm, even though his posture stiffened.

“Okay,” he continued. “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes, Mom.” He hung his phone up, sighing deeply. Turning to me, he said, “I’m sorry, but I have a family issue that needs to be dealt with immediately. You can either stay here and watch TV or go to bed. I shouldn’t be too long.”

Kissing the top of my head, he then stood up and proceeded to make sure he had his phone before making his way to the entryway, where he had left his shoes and coat. After telling me he would try to not be too long, once again, he closed the door behind him, giving me a look that spoke louder than words: he didn’t want to leave me.

I was never a fan of being alone. I’d hated the past few years, even with the lack of hope that I would ever be free. I missed my parents, still not knowing if I would ever see my mom again. I didn’t even know if she was still alive, or if she’d tried to look for me. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to see her after everything she’d put me through.

I was afraid of being alone. I had once been locked in a small dark cage that was cold as ice.

Not knowing what to do after he left, as the TV held no interest to me, I walked through the house. I wasn’t sure if there were certain rooms I wasn’t allowed to enter, so I didn’t dare enter any room with a closed door.

Passing the front door for the third time, I decided I would just kneel and wait for Elijah to return. The house felt cold without him, and I didn’t know what else to do. There was no way I would be able to sleep if I tried. Kneeling a few feet from the door, I placed my hands behind my back with my head down.

I wasn’t used to such quiet. Even while I was kept in that dark cell, I could always hear some sort of noise. Yelling, groaning, crying, and even an occasional gunshot. Being here in this nice warm house, the quiet was so . . .quiet.

“Please, let me go,” I sobbed as I was shoved to my knees in front of the man who held my life in his hands.

“Ah, but I can’t, my sweets,” the man laughed. “I am the man master of this place, and everyone answers to me. I wanted you, therefore I got you.”

“Please,” I begged. My hands were still tied behind my back. Morgan stood behind me, refusing to answer anything. He was shifty as stood before me.

“You are now mine. You will learn to not speak unless spoken to,” the man said as he walked around his desk to where I was kneeling. “I am Master Galvin, and you will give me what I require from scum like you.” With that, he snapped his fingers, demanding another man slap my cheek, the noise of skin against skin to echo across the room. I cried out in pain and shock and fell to the side from the force of the blow.

Galvin laughed before pulling me back up to the correct kneeling position. “When I enter a room, you are to be in this position. Eyes down, knees shoulder-width apart, and hands behind your back. If you are not, you will be punished. I will not repeat myself on this rule. Ever.”

My breath began to come in heavy pants as the memories crept forth. My palms began to sweat, and I rubbed them on my pant legs. I took a few deep breaths in, hoping that the panic would not get worse.

Please, not now.

I was on my knees with my head pulled back by my hair, my scalp crying out in pain. Master Galvin stood off to the side, watching with a gleeful look. Morgan stood in front of me, one hand in my hair. He had his pants unzipped and down so his hard dick was standing straight up. It was pointing right at me, and the sight of it made me queasy.

“Now, open that mouth of yours. I can’t wait to feel the heat around me, sucking me until I shoot my load down your throat.” Morgan moaned as he used his other hand to force my mouth open, squeezing my cheeks to the point of pain.

When it was open wide enough, he shoved his cock into my mouth, making me gag as he hit the back of my throat.

“If you bite him, you’ll be very sorry,” Master Galvin said.

I had learned to stop most of my panic attacks because Master Galvin loved to punish me for them. He’d force one of his men to beat me or use me in a certain way—sometimes both, if he was in a mood.

I could feel the bonds that were almost permanently around my hands those first few months. Of course, if I had only obeyed and not tried to run every chance I got, I may have had a few less bruises. The men were not gentle. I don’t think they even knew what the word meant.

Apparently, I didn’t do a good enough job giving Morgan my first blow job, because after his grunting and groaning and shooting his cum down my throat, I was shoved backward, barely catching myself on my tied hands.

“You’re worthless!” Morgan snarled as he tucked himself back into his pants. “Your mother was better.”

He then kicked me in the stomach, knocking the breath out of me.

That wasn't the last time. I had been forced to practice on the men for days on end, until it was what they deemed to be good enough. My jaw hurt constantly, making me unable to eat much of anything for days.

Rocking back and forth, my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I covered my face with my hands, folding my body in two.

The front door opened, letting in a wave of cold air.

The first time I panicked was right after I was released from the burning ropes and shut in what I would be calling my home for years to come. I was worried about my mom, worried about finding a way out of hell. I refused to let those men have their way with my body without a fight. And I would fight. I would fight till my last dying breath. But it didn't do any good. The men always won.

“Oh honey,” said a female voice quietly nearby. The presence of another slowly brought me back to the present. “Come on. Up you get.”

The woman gently pulled me up and I didn’t fight. I was tired, sore, and scared. All my fight had long since been beaten out of me.

What was the point in fighting anymore?

I removed my hands from my face and wrapped them around my middle. I could feel my ribs cry out in pain from the pressure and remembrance of old breaks that had never healed quite right, but it was better than the blackness that wanted to take over. I was led to the couch where the lady sat down and pulled my head to her lap. My tears continued. She unbraided my hair and began to run her fingers through my black locks.

Surprisingly, my breaths began to even out and my tears slowed. My heartbeat slowly calmed and I stared blankly at the table in front of me.

I jerked when a blanket was laid over my body, and that’s when I noticed I was shaking. My legs were pulled up to my chest and my teeth were chattering. My entire body was shivering from the inside out.

“It’s okay,” the female said, not stopping her fingers. “It’s only Zack. You’re freezing.”

“S . . . s. . . sorry,” I stuttered out.

“Don’t worry, Dawn,” she shushed, her voice soothing like a mother’s voice.

“Emily, baby? I’m gonna give Elijah a call,” said the man named Zack quietly from where he stood behind the couch. I hoped he wouldn't get any closer to me.

I couldn’t help but compare his voice to Sir’s. It was soft and soothing, just like Elijah’s.

“Okay,” she replied, just as quiet. “Why were you scared, Dawn?” she asked me.

“Too quiet,” I whispered as my body began to warm. “No one here.”

“The TV was on,” she pointed out. “But I can understand. I had a few panic attacks the first few weeks after I was rescued, and I was there for less than a week. I couldn’t stand to be touched, or to be alone with just my thoughts. I hated it. Of course, my life wasn’t much better before my boyfriend sold me to Galvin and his crew.”

“I saved her, though,” Zack said as he plopped into the chair closest to us. “Took me two months before I could touch her, and six months to earn her trust, but we’ve made it this far.”

“And my love,” the female—Emily—whispered with a smile.

“That, too,” Zack laughed awkwardly. “Anyway, Elijah should be back within the hour. We should have been here before he left. I'm sorry we weren’t.”

After a few minutes of silence between the three of us, Zack grabbed the remote from the coffee table where Elijah had left it and changed the channel. I closed my eyes, too tired to keep them open any longer as I enjoyed the soothing feeling of Emily playing with my hair.