Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(64)

I squinted, trying to focus. I didn’t know if it was the drugs or lack of food, but my vision was fading. My hearing was dulling. My body failing.

Coughing loudly, I almost fell off the desk with the wracking episode. I wheezed and every rib dug into my skinny sides. I didn’t need to be a doctor to know I had pneumonia.

The constant chill, the heavy, lethargic limbs, the sloshing in my lungs when I went from lying to standing all pointed to the illness.

White Man clucked his tongue. He stood over me looking regal and collected in his baby blue polo and jeans, belying the true evilness inside him. At least Leather Jacket wore his intentions on every inch of his body. White Man looked like a favourite uncle or distinguished businessman.

“You passed your final lesson today. How does it feel to be a killer?”

I sucked in a breath, trying to stop the memories from overtaking me.

The loud boom as the gun went off.

The kickback of the heavy weapon.

The smell of gunpowder and bloom of red on the innocent girl’s forehead.

I squeezed my eyes shut as my fingernails scratched my forearm, finding some relief from the slowly building itch.

White Man didn’t leave me alone. “Did you enjoy breaking that girl’s leg?”

Slamming my hands over my ears, I forced myself to forget.

Forget the thwack of the bat against her femur.

The snap of bone as it gave way under the force.

I whimpered, rocking on the desk.

White Man grabbed my hands and inspected my fingernails. Broken, dirty, a thick layer of filth wedged under the tips.

“Did you like scratching that girl until her breasts ran red? It’s her blood under your nails.”

My mouth hung open as I stared at the horrible evidence.

Images of scratching her, sobbing as I dragged my claws across her stomach and breasts haunted me. By the time Leather Jacket let me stop she looked like she’d gone head to head with a cheetah.

I wanted to collapse into a puddle and cry. I wanted my soul to leak free from my eyes and escape this ruin. These memories of what I’d done.

White Man stroked my cheek. “You did well. And your action today proved to me that you’re ready.” His lips twisted in a sadistic bow. “Do you want to know what you’re ready for?”

I shrivelled inside. My heart chugged with terror. I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t listen to more atrocities. A salty tear escaped my scratchy eyes.

Kick her.

Punch her.

Scratch her.

Kill her.

And I did.

Over and over.

I relived the moments where I became Leather Jacket’s toy—his obedient monster. Oh, my God, I remembered their agony. Their terror. The sound of their bodies breaking, repeating like a horrible symphony in my head.

More blood. More screams. More…more…

“Get out! Get out!”

White Man cooed, “There, there. Do you want something to take the edge off? Make it all go away?”

Yes!

No!

They owned me. Drugs were now my deliverance. My reality was something I could no longer endure as I’d dirtied it, torn it to smithereens, and filled my soul with corruption.

Seconds ticked past, and I shook so bad my entire body jiggled like a flesh-picked skeleton.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” He stroked my hair, trailing his hand to my breast.

I moaned a little, tugging free, but he pinched my nipple, keeping me in place. “You can try and fight it, but ultimately you know you won’t win. Already you’re craving. We’ve given you a high dose…you have a long way to fall, little girl.”

“Wh—what d—do you w—want?” I chattered, scratching openly at my dirty arms. The itch was spreading, consuming me.

He licked his lips. “Such a sweet question. But you know what I want. I want you to beg.”

I shook harder, trembling as ramifications bowled into me. He wanted me to beg…for what? Drugs? Sex? For him to do whatever he wanted to me?

I can’t.

I won’t.

But you know you will…eventually.

Icy panic turned my shivering into quaking. I dry heaved as my lungs ached with liquid and sickness. “Please. Just let me go.”

He stroked my hair, pulling me against his chest until my cheek rested on his shoulder. “Soon, little girl. Soon we’ll sell you, but you aren’t quite broken yet. I made the mistake of selling you whole and it landed me in a lot trouble. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

His voice soothed me even as his words signed my death warrant. “When I sell you, you’re going to be so dependent a master will be able to do anything to you and you’ll want it. Your mind will be so fragmented you will accept orders as life-lines, as you can no longer think for yourself.”

I cried silently. Hating the promise in his voice. Hating that all of this would come true. I was so close to being the perfect slave. My addiction to Q was overshadowed by the need to have the fog and jittery warmth. I’d never been this close to losing myself.

I’m already lost.

It petrified me.

“Please…please…” I no longer knew what I begged for.

“That’s close enough,” White Man murmured. “Ignacio.”