Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(15)

Naked, I stood in front of a rapist, kidnapper, and evil sadistic son of a bitch.

I trembled, clasping arms around my exposed chest. The man chuckled, eyes raping me with a transfixed stare. “You’ve got nice tits. You can’t hide them forever. Get in the shower and wash your filth.” He shoved me toward the soap littered area.

I stumbled, but went willingly. It meant I was away from him, away from his stench, his rottenness. Don’t think about him looking at you. None of this can affect you if you don’t let it.

Holding onto the thought, I stooped to pick up a dry piece of soap.

More women arrived, corralled by hard hands and vile men. Each one was subjected to the same treatment, minus the beating, and I turned away as their clothes fell to the floor. The guy with the scar gathered the belongings and disappeared. The wardrobe of our past lives. Gone—just like that. It symbolised more than just undressing us—it was a message: they owned us. We no longer had the right to wear what we wanted, go where we needed, love who we adored. We were reduced to nothing but naked, trembling girls.

The starkness of our reality hit some women hard, and they crumbled to the floor in tears, only to be kicked in the stomach and forced to crawl into the communal shower.

I swallowed salty tears as I turned on the tap, attempting to froth the age-grimed soap.

The water ran cold, but it was heaven to clean away gunk and hardship. I didn’t like to think about the reason we were being made to wash. That was the future—a place I couldn’t think about. I focused on the present, keeping sane by not letting my imagination run wild with horror.

Bubbles slowly formed on the soap, and I spent the next ten minutes rubbing it over my skin, lathering my hair. I wanted to wash away what happened. Wishing the water would take my unhappiness and gurgle it down the drain, taking me, too. Surely, the sewers would be a better existence.

“Enough!” a jailor shouted.

We obeyed, rinsing under the cold spray, and proceeded to where a pile of moth-eaten towels lay on a bench. I wrapped a discoloured towel around myself, and a rope came from behind, noosing around my neck. I jumped, clawing at the tight bondage.

The man with the jagged scar came into view, tugging gently. “You are no longer whoever you were. You are to forget about your past ‘cause you will never see it again.”

He leaned forward, and I froze. I underestimated him. Because he brought us food, I stupidly thought he was nicer than the others, but he wasn’t. The same blackness lived in him, too.

“Follow.” He strode off, yanking the rope. My back arched with the pressure, forcing me to trot to catch up. I’d been demoted from human to dog with just one act.

Lowborn reactions rose; I wanted to growl and sink my teeth into his arm. If he wanted me to be an animal, I could be an animal.

The shower block disappeared as I padded behind by leash. Where the hell is he taking me? I squeezed my eyes closed. I didn’t want to know.

What if, now I was clean, they were going to rape me? Put me in some whorehouse and force me into a sea of chemicals and drugs. I’d never return to who I was. Never get free.

No!

I slammed on the breaks, digging bare feet into the floor. My toes ached as Jagged Scar slammed to a halt. My neck screamed as the rope pulled tight, choking.

“Move!” Jagged Scar glared, pressing his body hard against my towel-wrapped figure. My entire being rebelled at being so close, but I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t step away in defeat. I wanted to hiss and head butt him, but I stood there, glaring into his endless black eyes, standing as regal as possible.

“No. I will not move. You have no right to treat me or the other women like this. Let us go.” My voice wavered with fear, my heart wild. I could lose my life by disobeying, but I couldn’t go down without a fight. I couldn’t give up so easily. I let my family walk all over me—I wasn’t about to let these bastards do it, too.

A gathering of shocked murmurs rose behind me. I glanced back, horror widening my eyes. My roommates were roped and standing in line, like sheep to the slaughter.

They were shoved out of the way as Leather Jacket stormed toward me. Jagged Scar dropped the end of my rope, stepping backward.

Oh, shit.

Ducking, I threw my arms over my head, trying to protect, but it was no use.

Leather Jacket threw me to the ground and kicked. His steel-capped boots cracked a rib as I collapsed under his abuse; the snap resonated, making me scream and curl into a ball.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even cry, the pain was insurmountable. Kick after kick. My breasts, stomach, thigh, ankle. Each blow exploded with heat worse than the last one.

Another scream erupted as one kick caught my solar plexus, causing the towel to unravel. I was beyond simple agony. I was in hell.

He raged something in his native tongue, fisting a hand in my hair, pulling me upright. My skin puckered in terror as he pulled back, gaining momentum to slam my head into the wall.

“Basta!”

I knew that word. Enough.

Leather Jacket released me; I slumped to the floor. Every inch wailed with pain. The chill of wood against bare skin reminded me I was beaten and naked. So stupid, Tess. So, so stupid. You can’t win. Just give them what they want. I was worse off by disobeying: a shivering mess on the floor, incapable of anything but weakness.

Brax. How I wished Brax was here. He’d know what to do. How to keep me safe. I was such an ignoramus to think I could stand up to these men.