Boss:

“I want that shipment out yesterday. And no onlookers.”

Three of my men walk out. They know… if there are onlookers, they pay for that with their lives.

“Gioele!” I snap.

“Yes, boss.”

“Where’s Lacey?”

“Cleaning with Giovanni boss.”

Fuck. He’s ruthless with her. I stand up and stalk down the halls, down the stairs where we keep the cells. Like Gioele said she’s not there. I go to the kitchen, the one the staff cooks my meals in. Sure enough there she is scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees. Her eyes are puffy and red from crying, but then again, they always are.

“Lacey!” I snap.

Her head snaps up. When she sees it’s me her body reacts instantly. Subtle shaking because she knows my power, but also the faintest hint of relief. That’s the part that intrigues me. I’d hurt her worse than anyone.

“Sir?” she asks quietly.

“Get up.”

She scrambles to her feet. There’s a bucket by her left foot and a dirty rag in her right hand. Her white cotton dress is ripped on the side and there’s a huge bleeding gash there. I walk over to her. Her eyes pulse when she sees where I'm looking.

I trace my fingers along the bloody cut, coating my fingers in it. I stare the blood lacing my fingers.

“You’re always bleeding.”

“Your…”

Then she clamps her mouth shut and looks down, resigned.

“Lacey! Finish what you were saying.”

“Sir. Please no. I'm sorry.”

She starts to shake profusely. Her dirty blonde, nearly brown, comes down to hide her face. I want to move the hair out of her face, but I don’t.

“Say it Lacey or I guarantee you will be punished. Also, be warned, I will know if you are lying.”

She starts to cry. Something she doesn’t do often in my presence. She’s really scared because Lacey rarely cries in front of me. Or anyone.

“I was gonna say,” she glances up at me quickly. Her grey eyes meet mine before looking away. “I was… I was gonna say,” a tear falls, “Your men always hurt me.”

Then she starts to shake so rapidly I have to place my hands on her shoulders to steady her. I don’t know what to do with what she just said. She should be punished, but her words hit me like a knife in the gut. Fuck.

Your men always hurt me.

I don’t let any of my indecision show.

“Come. You’re done cleaning for the day.”

I place my hand on her left side, opposite the injured side, to help usher her out the door. She leaps and cries out as soon as my hand touches her there. My eyes immediately darken and I take my hands off her. I was careful to choose the side without the blood. She looks at me wide-eyed and now purely terrified.

“Follow me.”

I walk out the door knowing she’ll follow. I hear her quiet footsteps behind me. We walk awhile before I open a large concealed wooden door. She stares at it, looking scared but empty. Like a shell of a person.

I did this to her.

Well, not all of it. There wasn’t much left when I found her.

“Well go in.”

She looks at the bed and the dark walls and the curtains and the fancy shit I don’t need. I see the recognition in her eyes.

“Yes. This is my room.”

She’s been in here before but she wouldn’t remember.

“What… do you need sir?” Trained question. Her voice is barely audible and she’s shaking so hard I think she is going to pass out at some point during this interaction. She doesn't know I’ve already fucking forgotten what she said earlier. My mind is on one thing, and one thing only

“Lift your dress.”

Lacey’s eyes fill with water immediately.

“Please, sir…” Second time she hasn’t directly obeyed. The second time since she’s gotten here and it’s in the span of ten minutes. Tisk, tisk Lacey. “No.”

“I’ll only ask one more time. Lift. Your. Dress.”

I walk up to her. She backs into my bed, her delicate little legs pushed up against it. With shaking fingers she lifts her dress up. Her eyes fall on my pristine hardwood floor. I let her avoid my gaze.

When the dress falls just below her breast I grab her hand and stop her. That’s enough. She stops immediately and holds her dress there. She looks up at me, confused. Those broken gray eyes don’t understand. I walk around to her left side and immediately she knows I know. She starts shaking again, but that quiet strength is back. She doesn’t back away or says anything. It takes me a minute to get my eyes off her small white cotton underwear, and what I know is underneath. So innocent and fragile.

Immediately, my eyes go wide and all thoughts of the fucking underwear are forgotten. Did she really think I wouldn’t find out? I stare at her. Shocked. I can’t remember the last time I felt this surprised. Angry. Furious.

All along her left side is the largest bruise I’ve seen going from where her bra line would be, down to her hip. It’s huge. On top of it is dark, self-inflicted wounds. At least forty, fifty, one hundred. Shit. They are all ranging in size and severity. In the bruise, there is also scarring from old cuts. I stare at her. I can’t wrap my mind around this. Lacey’s always been so strong. I don’t understand. She’s crying in shame.

“The bruise?”

She shakes her head no. It’s not self-inflicted. I stick my finger under her chin.

“Who did it?”

She looks at me, eyebrows pulled together. For the first time, I don’t just see brokenness in her eyes. I see pain. Wells of it. Never ending pain. My heart stops beating in my chest. I’ve never felt like this before. My eyes feel heavy. WHAT. THE. FUCK.

“Lacey,” I growl. “Who did that?”

I gently take her hand and let her drop the dress. A sigh of relief leaves her. Don’t get too comfortable with it.

“Sir, he’ll…”

I cut her off and grab her arms. “Do you still not understand who I am? Do I need to whip you and hurt you and fuck you for you to know I'm in charge here? I run it all. I own it all. I'm the motherfucking boss.”

“No. I know.”

“Then believe me when I say you are better off telling me than protecting a pawn.”

She looks at me horrified. “I'm not protecting him!”

Holy fuck, she’s scared of him. I almost want to laugh.

“Lacey,” I let myself move her hair back behind her ears, “my little dove, you’re mine. No one can hurt you if you’re mine.”

She looks at me on instinct. Her eyes saying more than she’d ever have to.

They already have.

“He, won’t hurt you again. I promise. If you tell me.”

Why the fuck am I bargaining with her?

“Giovanni,” she whispers. “He… did that.”

I lift her up and set her on the bed. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lacey…”

“A baton. Then pushed me into something. It bruises kind of a lot.”

I sigh and run my hands over my hair. I'm motherfucking lucky we don’t have any kind of major war going on right now. This little girl with cotton panties, this prisoner, has all my motherfucking attention.

“The cuts.”

Her eyes water. “I won’t talk about that.”

My eyes go wide. She’s just deliberately disobeyed me. No begging. Just strict disobedience.

“Yes, you will.”

“No sir. Those are mine.”

Mine? Oh, Jesus Christ. It's control. Pain. Fucking hell. What am I gonna do? Hurt her more for the information? I sigh.

“Stay there.”

I go to my restroom, under the sink, where I keep my extensive first aid kit. I keep one there so I can handle injuries without my men seeing my weakness. It’s one of the ways I’ve stayed in this position for so long. People never know when I am down.

I grab the kit and plop it down on the bed next to her. She's staring at it like it’s an alien lifeform.

“It’s a first aid kid Lacey.”

“I know. I'm… wondering why it’s there?”

She looks at me. Her grey eyes meeting my nearly black ones. It’s not light to dark. It’s angel to devil. Pain to death.

Great motherfucking question Lacey.

“You’re side. Obviously. Stupid question my little dove.”

The weirdest thing happens. She looks at it and the corner of her lip turns up, almost like she wants to smile but won’t. My heart beats again. It feels like it’s flying. I hate myself for being this way with her, but my door is locked and no one can see so I indulge for a few moments in this one weakness of mine.

I lift her dress again, tucking it up in the back. I place the ice on her side and hold it there. There’s an awkward silence. I'm just holding it to her side. No cruel words or touches. Neither of us knows what to do.

“Lacey?” I make my voice gentle.

“Tell me about the cuts. I won’t make you. I'm asking you to tell me.”

You have the control. Please tell me.

“You’ll…”

“I’ll what? For the next five minutes, you can speak freely.”

She glances at the clock, getting the time. Taking it very literally. What have I done to this girl? A minute over and I’ll hurt her, or have someone else hurt her. That’s what she thinks. No, that’s what she's experienced. Motherfuckng shit. That bothers me now.

“You’ll use it against me, sir.”

“I could use it against you now.”

“Yes, but why give you more?”

“I already have everything Lacey.”

“No,” her small fingers trace over the spot above the ice where most of the cuts are, “not these.”

“Those aren’t prizes Lacey.”

“There something!” she shouts at me. Fire in her eyes. “I have nothing! They give me purpose!”

“These cuts,” I can’t even hide the shock and horror in my voice, “cutting yourself is giving you purpose?”

“It means I'm alive still.”

“Oh, Lacey.”

I drop the ice and walk to the other side of the room, placing my head against the wall by my hands. My mind is spinning. Several minutes pass. I hear quiet footsteps and then a soft shaking hand on my shoulder. She doesn’t say anything. She just puts it there. Is she trying to help? Me?

She’s ripping my non-existent heart out.

“You’re suffering,” she whispers.

I spin around and look at her. For one beautiful moment, equals.

“No Lacey. You hurt for everyone else because you are hurting so deeply. You feel people’s pain because you know what it’s like. These,” I graze her side, “bury the pain, but it’s there. So Lacey no. I'm not suffering. You are.”

Her mouth drops and she looks down again, falling silently into her role. I furrow my eyebrows, confused.

“It’s been five minutes sir.”

She really is the perfect prisoner. I shouldn’t give that up. I should exploit it like I should everything else. But I don’t want to.

“If you are in this room you are free to say what you please, but past these walls Lacey it all stay the same. If you can’t do that, this privilege will be taken away and there will be punishment. Understand?”

A tear falls from her cheek. “Thank you sir.”

“Lacey. Nothing changes past these walls.”

“I know sir.”

“Alright. Back up on the bed. Let’s finish getting you wrapped up and disinfected.”