Clare

  We were walking to a parking lot a few blocks away from the trailer pack when Remy pulled out his vibrating phone, pressed a button, and held it to his ear.

  “Remy.” He stated.

  A few seconds later, whatever was said on the phone made him frown and stop mid-step. “Is that so? Alright, I’m on my way. Have you called for reinforcements? Alright, sit tight.”

  Remy sighed and then turned to me, glancing from me to the men standing beside me and around us. “We need to break up. The Livington branch is in some kind of trouble. Drake, Cole and TK, you’re taking her to our branch. Once you’re there, just lock her up in a cell alone. I’ll come over as soon as I can. The rest of you are going with me.”

  His cold gaze focused on me with a warning. “Clare, go with them and behave yourself.”

  I broke our locked gazes and looked down at the ground without saying a word. That angered him, because he stepped forward and grabbed my chin to make me meet his gaze again, this time with a smirk on his lips. “When I get back, I’ll tell you everything I have in store for you and we’ll start with a little trial so you can try to win yourself better conditions. In fact, let me have a taste before I leave…”

  Before I could say a word or figure out how to avoid him, he grabbed the nape of my neck and covered my mouth in a long, punishing kiss.

  By the time he released me, I felt sick, almost dizzy with nausea as I tried to hold back the puke begging to pour out of my throat.

  Remy seemed to understand my reaction and his face became very gloomy. “By the time I’m done with you, you would beg for me to kiss you. You’d beg for my touch and I would be the one feeling nauseous at the very sight of you.”

  His promise was said in a very low tone before he released his grip on the nape of my neck and walked past me to enter two cars with the other guys, leaving me surrounded by three men. The windows of their cars were tinted, so I couldn’t tell if Remy was staring at me as he left or not, but a sigh of relief left my lips when his car drove out of the parking lot.

  One of the men that had been left with me opened the door to the remaining car in the parking lot and said, “Get in.”

  I was silent as I hesitated, wondering if I could fight my way out of this, but the man by my side seemed to sense my thoughts. He pulled the back of my top at the same time that the other man, who was already seated inside the car, pulled the front of my top to get me to sit in the car quickly.

  Ripppp…

  My top tore with a loud sound that seemed to fill the almost empty parking lot even as I staggered into the car in a forward movement, falling into the car with my face first.

  This put me in a compromising position as my face fell on the crotch of the man in the car and the man behind me pressed his lower body to mine.

  Before I could stand up straight, the man behind me grabbed my thighs and pushed me into the car.

  Their manhandling made me dizzy as a picture flashed past my memory.

  The man, who was going to be driving and who had been holding my things before he discarded them into the car's trunk, opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat as I pulled myself to sit upright. As he started the car looking back at me with a creepy smirk through the rear mirror, I grabbed the ends of my torn blouse and held it closed as much as I could, still feeling somewhat dazed by the unrecognizable picture that flashed through my head a moment ago.

  The drive started and I couldn’t help glancing out the window as the familiar scenery of Hawkins Town faded behind me, along with the hope that I could somehow get out of this.

  I had a splitting headache, and I felt incredibly nauseous. In this state, I was not fit to escape even when we stopped at several gas stations. Even when the two men seated on both sides of me started arguing, I could barely follow their conversation, even though it was an alarming one.

  "I really can't wait to have a good time with this one. I watched that dance video and although she gets sloppy sometimes, she seems to be very flexible." The man on my left said.

  "I advise you not to count on it. Remy is definitely going to hoard this one. He's wanted to do that since day one." The man on my right said.

  "Awww man, that's too bad."

  "Yeah."

  "Hey but he didn't say we couldn't have fun with her in the car, did he? How about we just do it and then cry wolf after. We'll say we didn't know she was exclusive or something..."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "You...You know that prediction your girl gave about you dying because of a woman? I think this is proof."

  "That's so unfair. She's a bitter old hag druggie. What she predicts no longer matters. Besides, she said I would die at a woman's hand, not because of a woman. Besides, you heard what Remy said at the house. She's been with others, so he probably doesn't care as much as he cared before. Besides, he promised to send her to the cage fighters. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we help ourselves. Right, O'Malley?"

  The guy driving chuckled. "I’m in as long as you're taking the blame."

  "Pussy." The persuading guy sneered before turning to the guy on my right, "So, are you in or not?"

  Their words and the conclusion they were hurtling toward was making my blood run cold in my veins, but I was not in the right state of mind to speak. I was dizzy and barely holding down the nausea, not just from their conversation but also from being in a moving car for so long.

  I could have sworn I heard the blood rushing to my head when the last man agreed. "Sure. Get me the penepline."

  Before I could attempt to speak or fight, one of the men held me still while the other injected something into my arm.

  I tried to hold down my nausea, hold on to my torn top and shake their hands off me, but it was useless.

  “Stay still,” The man on my right warned gruffly.

  But how could I stay still? I released my hold on my blouse and tried to pull out the syringe, but the two men were way stronger than me and they held me still until whatever was in the syringe was emptied into my system.

  Then they sat back.

  I grabbed my blouse again as I turned to the man on my right, struggling to push away my dizziness and hold down my worsening nausea. “What was that? What was in the syringe?”

  He gave me a leering smirk. “Just a little something to help you sleep.”

  The look on his face was unmistakable and for a second his face blurred with another face, a very familiar face—My step father’s face.

  I shook my head to get myself to focus, even though I could feel my thoughts and my body slowing down.

  “You…” Before I could say anything, the man on my left grabbed the nape of my head and pressed my face to his crotch.

  “Stop talking so much. If you need something to do, why don’t I give you something to do with that pretty mouth?”

  I struggled to get my head off his lap, hammering at his thighs with the back of my fists.

  But as I did that, I could feel myself getting weaker, dizzier and sleepier.

  To make matters worse, the man holding the nape of my neck pressed my face to his crotch, making it harder for me to even breathe.

  It was when a hand behind me started undoing the buttons on my jeans that the memory that had been recurring fully resurfaced.

  I was half-asleep and barely conscious when my stepfather stepped into my room.

  When I tried to sit up but couldn’t, he chuckled. “Seems like you’re growing a tolerance. We might need to change the drug.”

  He had always been mean to me and even disparaging, but the tone of his voice and the way he looked at me as he sat on my bed beside me made my blood run cold. And when he pulled off his jeans and covered my body with his, I couldn’t help the way the sharp wave of nausea coiled in my stomach, thick and unbearable, forcing bile to surge up my throat. The burn of it seared my mouth, spilling out before I could turn my head. It splattered across my cheek and chin, pooling in the hollow of my collarbone. Panic seized me, choking as the acidic mess clogged my nose and threatened to slip down my throat again.

  He pulled away from me and when he saw the mess I’d made, he slapped me.

  The slap coincided with the slap I received in reality and pushed me back to the present.

  “She fucking puked on me…disgusting. Stupid bitch!” The man who had pressed my face to his crotch, reached to slap me again, but the man on my left pulled me away from his reach, pulling me onto his thighs.

  That was when I realized that my jeans had been pulled down my hips at some point. When he slid his hands from my side to the inner parts of my hips was when I lost it and started sobbing.

  “Please let me go. Please…” Before I could say more, the driver in front turned around to shove what felt like a handkerchief into my mouth.

  “You two should hurry up so I can have my turn. You can’t handle a little girl?” he said.

  The moment the hand of the man holding me touched my underwear, my vision went blank as I returned to a memory of me lying on a familiar bed, staring up at the roof in my former room, barely conscious, as my body, which was covered by my stepfather’s body, bounced with the creaking sound of the bed and my stepfather’s groans.

  I was murmuring the words I wanted to say at that very moment, “No, no, no, no, no, please…let me go. Please.”

  But they fell on deaf ears.

  The memory flashed around, interspersed with different memories, different positions, at different times in that same room that I’d thought was my haven.

  I felt like filth at that moment. That feeling was incomparable to my first dance stripping at the club. Instead, I felt as disgusted as it must feel to lie in a puddle of maggots. Everywhere felt itchy, and I felt like peeling off my skin if that was what would make me feel better.

  Caught in the memory-nightmare, I gathered all my strength and tried to scramble away from the groping hands that felt like slimy worms but when a hand cupped my left boob and another tore off my panties like they were tissue, I could no longer control myself.

  The world changed color, going to a familiar black and white negative film at the same time that screams rent the air for a short second. I felt it as the soul of the man holding my hips, the soul of the man on the right and the soul of the driver shattered to pieces.

  Before I could feel anything about what I had just done, there was a jolt, then a sharp, stomach-churning lurch as the car veered off-course. My body pitched forward, slamming into the back of the front seat. Tires screeched and the world outside whipped past in a dizzy blur.

  Then came the first hit.

  My shoulder crashed into the door as the car clipped something—maybe a tree, maybe the curb. My body lifted, weightless for a breathless second, before a sickening force yanked me sideways. I hit the ceiling as the car flipped, the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass filling my ears. My head smacked against something and pain exploded behind my eyes.

  Spinning. Slamming. Tumbling.

  I was like a rag doll, tossed from one brutal impact to the next. The air turned thick with smoke, the acrid scent burning my nose. When the car finally stopped moving, I was sprawled across what used to be the backseat, my limbs twisted at the wrong angles. My body screamed in protest, every inch of me throbbing.

  Somewhere outside, a car horn blared, long and unbroken.

  I tried to move. Failed. And then everything faded to black.

  I truly appreciate your patience and continued support. Thank you for sticking with me and the story. I promise I’ll keep giving you my best, even if it’s just a little slower for a while. ??