Two long, dreadful weeks pass and the routine is the same. I get up, cook for Jagger, clean up and then go to my room. The funny thing is, I could have stabbed him so many times when preparing the meals, but I wasn’t ready for that yet. I had a plan though, but I needed time. I couldn’t just run out there and stab them all; it wouldn’t work so well for me.
Even if I killed Jagger, I’d have to eliminate the rest to get away safely. They were always around and I never got any time alone with Jagger these days. I needed his trust, at least enough to be alone with me. One day, when the men weren’t here, I would figure out a way to get rid of Jagger and get out. Then I’d run, I’d run so far they would never find me. There was no way in hell I was staying here. No way in hell.
I’m sitting in my room one afternoon just staring out the window, when my door opens; I assume it’ll be Jagger. It’s not. Snake steps in and my throat tightens, this man has an evil streak. I stand quickly, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Get out there and cook for us, we’re hungry,” he snaps.
“Excuse me?”
He steps closer, and I step back. “You fuckin’ heard me, get out there and cook.”
“Where’s Jagger?”
“Fuck Jagger, he’ll be back soon.”
My heart seizes. At least with Jagger here, the other men don’t touch me. Only twice in the two weeks has he left me alone, but never with them. He just leaves me locked up and goes out for a day.
“Get out, or I’ll take off my belt and enjoy bringing it across that pretty ass while you cook. In fact…take your shirt and pants off.”
“What?” I cry.
He steps forward and grips my shoulder, his fingers dig into my skin.
“Off now or I’ll make you go naked.”
“No,” I whisper.
“What did you say?”
“I said no!”
He grips his belt and yanks it off, I try to scurry away but he pins me by the throat and shoves me face first onto the bed. He reefs my shirt up and I scream and twist but the man is strong. He brings the belt down over my back and I scream. I kick out, but I can’t connect with him. He crushes my face into the mattress and I can’t breathe, I’m going to pass out. He whips me again and again until my skin is broken and my screaming turns into strangled sobs.
“What the fuck!”
I hear Angel’s voice and suddenly Snake is being pulled off me and thrown into a nearby wall.
“You fuckin’ prick Snake, Jagger’s going to flip!” Ace snarls.
“You fuckhead,” Angel growls.
“Pull your fuckin’ shirt down and if you tell him about those marks, I’ll be back.” Snake snarls.
“Shut the fuck up Snake, and get out of here now!” Angel growls, shoving him out the door.
Ace kneels in front of me and pulls my shirt down gently. I look away, tears streaming down my face. He says nothing else, he just leaves me alone. The pain in my back is beyond anything I’ve ever felt, I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I’m terrified of Snake, so I stand and weakly walk out, my heart racing. If I don’t cook as planned, Jagger will know something is up. I can’t risk Snake’s anger if I don’t do as he asks.
I go to the fridge, avoiding Snake’s deadly gaze, and pull out some ingredients to make Spaghetti. I’m swallowing rapidly to keep from throwing up. My eyes are stinging from my salty tears and I’ve bitten my lip so hard I can taste blood. I chop the onions, but God, I’m in so much pain. I hear Jagger’s voice and I peer over my shoulder and see him walking up the stairs.
“What’s goin’ on here?” he asks.
“Nothin’ boss. She just offered to cook for us.”
He gives the men a look, then narrows his eyes and stares at me. I force a weak smile, after catching Snake’s warning glare. I continue cooking, and when the men retreat downstairs for beers, I get an idea. When they’re gone, I turn and start rummaging through the cupboards. Tonight is my night; I have to get out of here. I can’t take it anymore. Soon, I’ll go crazy.
I dig through the medicine cupboard, come on, please. YES! I find a jar of laxatives. I walk over to the simmering sauce on the stove and pour the whole bottle in. I take a tiny taste, to make sure it’s not too obvious, but the garlic and tomato rule it out. I serve quickly after that, but not before tucking a knife into my pants. I have to do this; I have to be quick and witty about it. Those men will be down and out, and will leave. Then, I’ll get Jagger out of the way.
I think about Jagger, and I can’t help that my heart hurts. It’s stupid I know and I think I have a case of Stockholm syndrome. While he’s been hard on me, we’ve had moments where our conversation nearly seemed normal. There are times he’s even looked like he might smile when he hears me singing, or I smart mouth him. Though he’s kept me captive and I smell like a rat, he’s never hurt me.
Voices drifting up the stairs cause me to snap back to reality. When the six men appear, I continue stirring the sauce. This could go my way, or it could go really….really bad. I serve the food, keeping my head down. Jagger walks over just as I’m dusting parmesan cheese over the meals. He puts his hand on my back and I flinch, wincing.
“What’s wrong?”
If he finds out that Snake whipped me, all hell will break loose and my plan will fail. I bite back my tears, as the throbbing pain in my back begins to worsen.
“I just slept wrong, my backs sore.”
He makes a sound of uncertainty, but I keep my head down. If I look at him, he will see the way my lip is trembling. I have to do this, I have to escape. If I don’t, I’ll crumble here. I walk slowly to the table, presenting the bowls to all the men. Jagger shakes his head when I offer him one. Shit…shit!
“I’ve eaten.”
Dammit! At least I’ll get rid of the other men; that’s enough for now. I only need to catch Jagger off guard to stab him. He’s looking at me with that beautiful expression, why do I so badly want to fall into his arms? I’m fucked up; this has fucked up my way of thinking. I can’t have feelings for a man who has treated me this way; I have to get out…now.
The men all scoff the food, typical male style. Then about ten minutes later, Angel grips his stomach and groans. Soon all the men are groaning and holding onto their tummy’s with desperation. Jagger looks over at me, and I turn and run. I bolt down the hall and into the room. I can hear his footsteps behind me. I slide into the bathroom and slam the door, locking it. I fall to the floor, gripping my sides. My back hurts so much, feral tears slide down my face.
“Open the fuckin’ door Willow.”
I slide out the knife, this is my only chance. Jagger kicks and shakes the door but he can’t open it. Well-built house. I hear cars outside about ten minutes later; Jagger is still beating on the door and cursing me. I peer out the barred window to see all the men leaving. This is my chance; this is the only chance I’ll get. The other men will be down and out for at least a day; they’ll spend their evenings on the toilet.
“Fuckin’ hell Willow, open the fuckin’ door!”
I grip the knife in my hands. I can do this, as soon as I open the door I just need to plunge it forward. Why does my heart hurt so much? Why are my hands trembling at the thought of hurting him? I have to do this; I have to save my Sister and myself. We have to get out of here and never come back. I open the door, and everything happens quickly. I go to drive the knife forward but Jagger catches my hand.
The struggle begins, I kick out and the knife waves around in my hand. He’s growling and holding my hands out, to keep the knife away from him. I manage to kick my leg out and hit him in the shins; he roars and drops my hands. I stumble forward and the knife drives into his stomach. My eyes widen and my mouth opens, oh God, what have I done? What have I done? I stare at him on the ground, watching as the blood pours from his stomach. Run Willow; get out of here now and save yourself and your Sister. Think of Jenny.
With pain in my heart, I leap over him and try hard not to notice the blood pouring from his gut. I run out the door and down the stairs. I find a set of car keys, and I grab them before rushing outside. My back hurts so badly, I want to drop to the ground and throw up, but I keep pushing forward. I press the button on the keys but none of the cars open. Panic grips me. I have minutes, if that, before he gets up and comes after me. I press it over and over, nothing. The car must be in the garage.
I drop the keys on the dirt, and I turn and stare out into the darkness. I have to run, it’s the best I can do. The morning will help me out of this mess. If I find a driveway, I might be able to follow it. I start running, and that’s when I hear the front door slam. I pick up my pace, crying out as my shirt rubs angrily against my back. I hear footsteps, he’s close. I have to run faster, I need to get out of here but I’m in so much pain, I can’t pick up my pace.
My face is in the dirt before I can get another thought in. Jagger is on top of me, his chest crushing my back and squashing me against the dirt. I scream in agony as he moves, crushing me harder and causing my shirt to slide across my back. I scream and cry, wiggling but he has me pinned. His face is down by mine, and he whispers into my ear.
“Stop, just stop,”
“Please,” I cry. “You’re hurting me, please.”
“What?”
“My back, oh God.”
He gets off me quickly, but he doesn’t let me go. He keeps me pinned with his hand wrapped around my wrists. I couldn’t fight him if I tried. I’m in too much pain. My plan failed. I’m a failure. I start so cry hysterically, and it seems he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He just stands there, holding my wrists and staring at me.
“Get inside.”
He shoves me and I begin walking, still sobbing madly. When we step into the light of the house, he reaches over to a nearby table and takes a set of handcuffs. He pulls my hands behind my back and I scream.
“Please Jagger, cuff me at the front.”
He looks confused, but he cuffs my hands at the front and shoves me against a wall so my face is pressed against it. Then, he lifts my shirt and snarls viciously.
“Who the fuck did this?”
“I…”
“Tell me who the fuck did this Willow, NOW!” He roars and I shudder at the booming sound of his voice.
“Snake,”
He slams a fist into the wall and it goes straight through. It’s only inches from my face. I close my eyes and more tears slide down my face.
“Tonight?” he says, in a gravelly voice.
“Yes.”
He drops my shirt and spins me around. I get a good look at him and gasp. He’s covered in blood and he’s pale. I suddenly feel guilty, what if he dies? I’ll be left with Snake at the rest of the group, and that’s not a good outcome. How could I be so stupid? What is wrong with me? My plan was thought out all wrong and now I could very likely pay in the worst way.
“Let me call for help,” I whisper, staring at the blood soaking his shirt.
“Not fuckin’ likely.”
“You could die, Jagger.”
“If I die,” he rasps, “So do you; should have thought of that.”
I swallow and stare into his pale blue eyes. “Please, let me help you.”
He looks like he might pass out, but he’s still looking at me suspiciously.
“And try to kill me again? I don’t think so.”
“Jagger, I didn’t want to kill you. I didn’t mean to…please, let me help. I can stitch…let me stitch it at least. It’s that or you’ll bleed out and die…”
He glares at me, and drags me into the kitchen. He ruffles through the drawers and pulls out a gun and a first aid kit. He un-cuffs my hands and lays down on the couch. I stand in confusion for a moment, but slowly I reach forward and take the first aid kit in my hands. He aims the gun at me and I flinch.
“You try one thing, I’ll shoot you.”
I stare at him, hurt. Ok, I know that’s stupid because I deserve that gun being pointed at me, but it still hurts. I nod and tear his shirt. When his stomach is exposed, I wince. It’s pretty bad, and I feel terrible. A deep wound is seeping dark, red blood in slow, thick rivulets. I use his shirt to put some pressure on it, while I clean the skin around it. He doesn’t make a sound.
“I’m sorry, this will hurt…”
He doesn’t speak to me; he just points the gun at my head and watches me work. I clean around the wound with some antiseptic, and then I remove the shirt. God, it’s a mess. I dig through the kit to find a needle and thread. I sterilize and tie the thread, and then I stare at him, waiting for him to give me the go ahead. He nods and leans back, closing his eyes but he doesn’t lower that gun.
The first pull of the needle through his skin, has me crying again. He winces and tenses, and I can see his jaw clenching. By the time I’m finished, I’m sobbing heavily and he’s staring at me with a hurt expression. I’ve seen a lot of expressions from Jagger, but never a hurt expression. He sits up with a wince and takes my face in his hands, shocking me.
“Your turn,”
I swipe my tears. “I’m sorry…”
He huffs weakly. “You tried to kill me, run off and now you feel bad because you had to stitch me up?”
I put my head down, my soul is weakened and I have nothing left.
“I’ve never hurt a soul in my life Jagger, not one. I can’t even kill an ant without feeling bad. I didn’t mean to…I thought it was the only way I could be free. I don’t want to live like this forever.”
“You won’t,” he whispers hoarsely. “But even if you get out of here, and away from me, you’re not safe. Manchez will find you, didn’t you think of that?”
“I was going to run…take my Sister and run.”
“He’d find you.”
“I’ll never be freed of this,” I whisper.
“You will, I promise you will. It won’t be like this forever.”
“Yes it will!” I cry. “My Father made enemies; I’ll never sleep peacefully again. I’ll always be looking over my shoulder wondering who else he pissed off and when they’ll decide to use me as revenge.”
“It won’t be like that…”
“You don’t know that,” I whisper.
“Come on, just turn around and let me help you.”
“Why would you bother?” I whisper, defeated.
He grips my face. “No woman deserves to endure what Snake did to you tonight. I won’t leave you again. I’m sorry. Now turn around and let me help…please?”
I turn weakly and he gently peels my shirt off and winces again, and I close my eyes and clench my teeth.
“Fuck…”
I say nothing, his statement about covers it.
“I’ll fucking gut him.”
That would be nice.
“Lie down on your stomach, and don’t move.”
I turn to face him and his eyes fall to my stomach. They narrow and his hand slides out to trace the jagged scars on my belly. I know how awful they are, I live with them every day. “Willow?” he whispers.
“Don’t ask…please Jagger.”
He nods and I lie down on my stomach. I hear him shuffling around. He comes back a moment later and I hear the sound of water. He places a warm cloth on my back and I wail, clawing at the couch.
“I’m sorry…it’s gonna fuckin’ hurt but if I don’t do this…you’ll get an infection.”
I grit my teeth and only whimper as he cleans my wounds and then coats them with a cool cream. He makes me remain on the couch until the cream sinks in, and I find myself falling into a restless sleep. I’m so exhausted. I am jerked back to consciousness when I hear Jagger snarling down the phone.
“You tell him he better be there in the morning, and if he’s not I’ll fuckin’ cut his tongue out and shove it up his ass. If any of you EVER touch her again, I’ll put a bullet in your brains!”
He slams the phone down and I’m too frightened to move. Jagger’s in a mood now, and I don’t want to push him any further. I get to my feet silently and begin walking towards my room.
“Where you goin’?”
I freeze and slowly turn, “To my room.”
“Why?”
I’m confused. He starts a strained walk towards me; his chest shines under the faint light in the room. My heart thumps.
“So I can sleep…”
“Sleep on the couch.”
“No, I’d rather sleep in there.”
“Fine, go sleep in there,” he snaps.
I stare at him, completely confused. “Ok…”
“Wait!”
I stop again and stare at him once more. He walks out of the room and comes back a moment later with two bags. He thrusts them at me and gruffly mutters, “I got these for you today.”
I stare down at the bags and then back up at him. “What is it?”
“Clothes; can’t have you smellin’ like a fuckin’ dog any longer.”
Ouch, mean Jagger is back. I turn and walk away, furious with the man that captured me. I’m quite over him and his mental personalities.
“Thanks would be nice!” He yells after me.
I flip him the bird over my shoulder, and close my door to the sound of his booming laughter. I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever heard Jagger laugh, and worse, it’s a beautiful sound that has my heart clenching in ways it never has before.