Chapter Ten

Alana

1 year, 6 mont hs

“I am Alana Ann Masters. I am twenty years old. I have parents who love me. I have a younger brother named Aaron. My name is Alana Ann Masters, and two years ago, I was kidnapped.”

Losing my mind, driven to the brink of insanity, I had to remind myself time and time again who I was. That I was Alana Masters. That before I was a slave, I was a person. A girl who was loved. It became a routine to me, a game I played to keep myself occupied while waiting for the agony to come each day.

“My name is Alana Masters, and I miss the sun on my face. I miss the taste of chocolate milkshakes, the coldness hitting my throat as it slides down smoothly. I miss my family, my friends. I miss cheerleading. I wonder if Ryan has found another girlfriend yet. I wonder how to tell him I’ve found someone else too.”

Taken prisoner and held captive, I was forced away from everything I loved and made to live in a cold, dark basement as a ghost of my former self. Once a beautiful girl of blonde curls, emerald-green eyes, and skin as smooth as silk, I was now a toy used only for a sick bastard’s pleasure and torment. My skin was now littered with an array of sickening bruises, cuts, and scars. The most prominent scar, a jagged knife wound running up and down the entirety of my rib cage. The scars weren’t solely physical. They went beyond skin and looks and cut deeper into my mind and soul. My hair, dirty and tangled, had lost its shine and hung dully to my waist. My eyes had lost their sparkle. Too many tears cried at the hands of Master left my eyes almost swollen shut. In nothing but a filthy white t-shirt and navy-blue, threadbare panties that Master finally gave me permission to wear after he thought I’d earned them, I sat huddled in the corner trying to escape the chill.

Where once I was delicate and innocent, my body and mind had taken the brunt of the monster’s punishments. I was no longer the naïve girl who gossiped about boys and fought with my brother about whose turn it was to do the dishes. I had been the subject of abuse—pummeled with fists, taunted with brutal, hateful words, and tortured in ways a human being could not even begin to comprehend. After what I had seen, what I had been forced to do since he’d taken me captive, it was no wonder I was at my breaking point. My psyche was fragile, and in no time, I would be completely shattered, exactly what the monster was waiting for.

In the beginning, I screamed for help while trying to fight off the monster as he laid on top of me. My fighting spirit only spurred him on more. The more I fought back, the more aroused he became and the more pain he inflicted. The pain, the terror in my eyes, it got him off. He was tall with a sturdy build, but he wasn’t a man who would easily capture a woman’s eye, something that had changed during my time with him. Losing Noel twisted him up, too, and he lost the brutal, edgy looks he’d once had. His black hair was thinning, and on nights when he forced me to be on top, I could easily see the bald spot that was becoming more prominent as time went by. I made it a point to avoid looking at his face as much as I possibly could, but his smug expression and those jet-black, ice-cold eyes lingered in my mind at night.

Only Jacob gave me anything to hold on to, but he frightened me too. As we got older, the darkness burning in his gaze grew. One day, he’d want the things his father had taught him to crave, and I’d want to give them to him. I knew doing so would only cement my abuse and leave me shattered. I had no strength, no choice, and I’d wilt under that weight. But losing Jacob left a bitter taste in my mouth. How do you leave love behind, even when it’s twisted and barbed, stuck so deep in your skin your scars have grown over it? I wasn’t sure what the answer was but knew I’d eventually have to escape Jacob and use the love he had for me to do it. It made me sick to my stomach, but I wanted to live, to be free, and Jacob, no matter how much I tried to teach him, didn’t understand the real essence of choice.

He’d never had the chance to choose either, and maybe that’s why it was so hard.

This morning, the stench of urine filled the air, reminding me Master hadn’t cleaned my cage in three days. The smell was overwhelming, making me sick to my stomach. Usually, the man paid four visits to Purgatory each day—twice to deliver meals, once to clean the cage and at night when he needed a body to use or a hot mouth to fuck. To him, I was a ragdoll to be used and discarded, and he made sure I knew it every time he grabbed my hips and sank into me. Lately, though, something was different. Fewer visits, less food. Whereas he had little to no regard for me before, now he was completely indifferent. He still used me to get off, but other than that, there was little to no contact. And now I was stuck in my cage as the smell of piss wafted up my nostrils. Between that and my own stench, my nose curled in disgust.

The door to the basement opened, and I dropped to my knees and bowed my head as I’d been taught, waiting for my next demand to follow. Instead, Jacob reached through the bars of my cage and tipped my chin up to capture my gaze with his.

“Have you been eating the last couple of weeks like I told you? Hoarding food when you could?”

I warmed, afraid to ask if this was it. If, finally, all his promises would come to pass. “Yes. I’ve felt stronger lately but haven’t let on with your father.”

“Good girl. He’s been talking about a new girl and going out to scout. I finally finished the training he had me on, and you’ve done so good keeping his attention.”

“But if he’s getting a new girl, that means my time is up,” I whispered.

“It doesn’t happen overnight, and you won’t have to worry about that. Just trust me, and when the time is right, we’ll act.”

“What if we make a mistake?”

“I’m going to make things right, Alana. I swear it.”

“That’s a nice thought, Jacob, but your father is an evil bastard. He’ll only hurt us if we try anything.”

“He won’t have the chance. Stand up, baby. I’ve got something to tell you.”

Bringing his face closer to where I stood, he filled me in on his plan.

The next night, Jacob came back. It was a brief moment, but I needed it for the plan to take place. Loosening the cage’s lock, he prepared me for what was to come. I took a calming breath and nodded to let him know I was ready. When he headed back upstairs, I sat back and got ready for my part to play. I stuck my hand underneath my mattress to make sure my tool was still there.

A few hours later, I heard the clomping of the man’s boots heading for me. My eyes popped open, and I grabbed hold of my hidden object. As soon as Master came into view, I made a run for it. Swinging my cage door open, I went flying at him, a tiny ball of fury, knife drawn and aimed right at his stomach. He stalled from the shock as I flew at him from my opened cage. All the pain and anger, the hopelessness of my captivity, gave me the strength I needed to thrust the knife into his gut and twist. Repeatedly, I turned the knife into his stomach, wishing and hoping he could experience a fraction of the pain he’d inflicted on me. Coming up behind him, Jacob got a grip around his neck.

Drawing closer to his father, I heard him whisper “Surprise” into the bastard’s ear.

Letting out a grunt, Master struggled to fight both of us off, his fists and legs flailing. Separately, we never would have been able to take the son of a bitch down, but together we worked as a well-oiled machine. Coiling rope around his father’s wrists, Jacob made sure he couldn’t get free.

Drawing the knife from his lower abdomen, I found myself entranced by the blood. Unlike the horror of witnessing Celia bleed out, I found a sick satisfaction watching Master’s blood drip all over the floor.

Drip, drop. Drip, drop. Blood everywhere. Licking my lips, I found myself ready to begin. Jacob, taking him into the Punishment Room, paused to look back at me.

“Alana?”

Shaking myself out of the trance, I held my head high, chest puffed out, and marched through the door like an avenging angel. Master had tortured me long enough. It was time for the tables to be turned and revenge to be enacted. Long ago, I’d promised myself this bastard would die at my hands. Tonight, that promise would come true. I would make him pay. For my family, for Celia, for Jacob, and for me. I would make him bleed and take glee in it. A malicious laugh filled the room and it took me a second to realize it was coming from me.

Before I could lose my nerve, I had one last thing to do. Positioning myself in front of Master, holding the blade to make sure he didn’t try anything, I grabbed Jacob’s head with my free hand. I pulled his head over his father’s shoulder and kissed him. Thrusting my tongue deeply between his lips, I kissed him with everything I had left in me.

“Thank you.”

A stunned expression on his face, Jacob dragged his father to the medical table that had been used countless times to tie me down and punish me. Even with his hands tied behind his back and no way to fight back, knowing this would be the end of him, Master’s tongue was merciless, taunting.

“I’m going to fucking kill you brats. How dare you fucking betray me, boy? How fucking dare you? I made you! I made you who you are. How dare you fucking defy me? And you, missy! You’re nothing. No one. A cum bucket.”

“Enough! Gag him, Jacob.”

Bound and gagged, he could do no more but struggle against his bonds and glare ineffectively at us.

Surveying the tools, the very ones he’d used on me countless times, a plan formed in my head. Walking over to him, I had no fear. My life was no longer in his hands. Instead, his was in mine. I opened his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as I pulled down his boxers, so he was left standing there in his impeccable white t-shirt, staring down at me as I got to my knees.

“Did this make you feel like a man? Every time you put me on my knees. Every time you forced your disgusting cock into my mouth and fucked my face? Did it make you feel like a man to rape me?”

With knife in hand, I began making shallow cuts down both thighs, watching the blood trickle from the wounds. Seeing his blood run at my hands gave me control of myself for the first time since he’d taken me. The darkness in me cackled in glee.

Jacob came up behind his father once more, and in the seconds it took me to understand what was going on, his father was screaming in agony from behind the gag. Mercilessly thrusting something into his father’s ass, Jacob’s face was washed with sadistic pleasure. He enjoyed watching his father get his just desserts. I sat back and watched, realizing this was the pain Jacob had experienced. His father doubled over the table, unable to fight back while gagged and bound.

With one last thrust, Jacob deemed the act done.

Bringing my knife to his neck from behind, I pulled the gag from his mouth.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you like you killed Celia.” My demand was met with stubborn silence, and I dug my knife into his neck. “Tell me!”

Jacob’s stare touched my skin. I caught his eye as he told me to help him get his father on the table. After doing so, both of us worked to strap him down. If he was going to be a sick, stubborn bastard even now, at the mercy of his son and prisoner, I wasn’t going to make things easy for him. And neither was Jacob.

The gaping wound on Master’s abdomen was still gushing blood, and it was doing funny things to me. While I should be sickened by this whole thing, I was taking pleasure in it.

“Let me tell you a story. Celia Jane Whittaker was sixteen when you took her from everything she knew. She loved to play the piano, she was a fan of One Direction. Her favorite food was peanut butter pie, and she had parents who loved her. She had two little siblings. You took her from her family. For your own sick pleasure. For your games. And then you killed her mother because Celia helped me. You killing her mom was what actually killed Celia. All your actions did was put her out of her misery.”

Seeing no remorse in his eyes, I continued, all the while dragging my knife around his body. Following it with his eyes, he waited for me to strike.

“I am Alana Ann Masters. I was a cheerleader. I have parents who love me, truly love me. I have a brother who was an ass but will do anything for me. I loved to dance and act. I had friends. I had a future. And then you stole it all from me. I would’ve had a child, but I couldn’t risk it. I forced a miscarriage on myself so I could protect him from you. This is for Celia.” Thrusting the knife into his right thigh, I pulled it down, cutting through tendons and nerves, making sure he felt the pain.

“This is for her family.” This time, I stuck his left thigh, repeating the process.

“This is for my family.” Landing another thrust to his abdomen, blood pooled around the knife. As it ran down his stomach, around his belly button and lower, the darkness in me let out another malicious laugh.

“Your turn.” I handed Jacob the knife

Taking the blade, he looked his father up and down, and I wondered what he was thinking seeing such a strong, evil man reduced to such pitifulness. As Jacob’s gaze hit lower, the rage entered his face and his eyes narrowed.

“This is for me, Father.”

With those five words, the knife arced through the air and his father wailed.

Master was a man no more.

“And this. This is for Noel and me.”

One final thrust of the knife, directly into the heart, and we were free from the monster’s thumb. Noel and Celia were avenged. Looking down at the warm, red blood on my hands, my darkness rose up and smiled.

Looking at Jacob, I knew I couldn’t stay, even though it pained me to leave him behind after what he’d done for me. Despite what he’d said about not forcing me, I knew he was his father’s son and all he wanted was for me to be his toy. I loved him, and he loved me, but this sort of love was wrong. I refused to be put in that position again. Even if the darkness in me craved him, I was terrified Jacob would end up like his father.

“Can I wash up? Please?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll show you to the upstairs bathroom and then dispose of his body,” Jacob said with a sneer in his father’s direction.

Leading me upstairs to the main floor, I was amazed by the sheer size of the place. For years I was kept in a dark, damp basement thinking I was in some run-down house. Instead, I was in a mansion. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, white marble tile lined the floors. Walking me through the house, Jacob seemed unsure what to say to me now that the deed was done. Honestly, I didn’t know what to say to him either, especially knowing I was planning to run once his back was turned. Only two words came to mind, and I wanted him to know how much I truly meant it. Turning to face him, I looked right into his eyes as I spoke.

“Thank you.”

A smile filled his face; it was perfect. It was carefree, bright, and beautiful. In another life, this boy would be the perfect man for me. But in this life, he was damaged, abused and traumatized by the same man who’d subjected me to torture. The only difference between us was the monster was his father. We were both his prisoners, just in different ways.

Opening a door, Jacob turned on a light. The brightness bothered me after having become so accustomed to the dark. I looked around the room and spotted a walk-in shower that could hold at least four people. His toilet was in one corner across from the sink, and a huge, porcelain tub was on the opposite wall. The bathroom was decorated in all whites and gold—a bathroom fit for a princess, not a girl with blood dripping down her hands. A drop of blood fell onto the spotless floor, and I took pleasure in seeing Master’s sparkling white floors tarnished with his own blood.

“I’ll let you clean up and head back downstairs. Call me if you need me.”

Jacob walked away, and I headed to the sink to begin washing my hands. Once I was finished, I gave one more glance around the room. And then I did what I had been dreaming of since the very moment I woke up in that cage.

I ran.

Three miles, in borrowed clothes from the house and shoes that belonged to some girl before I’d come along. Tree branches snapped at my face, splitting my skin, but I kept running. My lungs labored, but it was nothing compared to the pain Master had trained me to endure. Despite being tired, haggard, and weakened, I could function.

The bastard was good for something.

Owls hooted and night insects sang as I pounded through the darkened woods. I didn’t know which way I was going, but I had to be close to something. Mail in the house near the front door told me I was still in Georgia, and I could make it somewhere. I didn’t have a map, but I’d find a way. Lights on the edge of the darkness grabbed my attention. I sped toward them, pushing myself faster. Life, it had to be life.

I’d left Jacob behind. After everything, I ran because I couldn’t face loving a man like that. He was Master’s son, and what he wanted from me would be no different. It didn’t matter the odd connection we shared or the fact we’d shared killing his father. He would want to harm me. But he was messed up, and he needed help. Just not from me. I kept telling myself that as I ran to keep from going back. The lights grew bigger, and I could make out the edge of a house. Relief and hope filled me.

Almost there.

The small brick home only had a porch light with a single window illuminated. I pounded on the door, afraid this would be my only chance.

“Please, help me. Please!”

“What the hell?” a gruff voice answered, and I froze when he opened the door. What if he would hurt me? Take me and rape me? I jerked back from the door, poised to run away.

“Who are you?”

“Please … don’t …” I couldn’t get it out. Nothing.

“Whitney, come here, quick. I think it’s that girl from the news.”

“What?”

A petite woman with wild, blonde hair came into view, pushing the bear of a man back from the door. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re Alana Masters, right?”

I crumbled. My name. She knew my name. My family hadn’t stopped looking for me.

“Tommy, call the police. We have to get her home.”

Tommy ran back into the house, and Whitney came outside with slow steps. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I promise.”

“Can I … have a hug?”

I don’t know where the request came from. But once I’d voiced it, I didn’t want to take it back.

“Come here, baby.”

I fell into her arms, clinging tightly as I sobbed. She rocked me, rubbing my hair, like my mother would do, and whispered things that soothed me. She stayed with me, even as sirens and flashing lights filled the air.

It was in her arms—when I finally knew I’d escaped—that I made the decision to not send Jacob to prison. He’d helped save me, and maybe they could get him into a hospital. The only man who deserved to be punished for it all was his father.