Page 163 of Voices

I shake my head over and over. “H-He'll believe me.”

“Benjamin maybe, but you? Not a chance in hell.” He snarls. “You're a disgrace to your father's name. So, here's how this is going to go. You will come to my office, I will do as I please, then I’ll tell your father how well you’re doing learning the company.”

I start to shake.

“If you don't, I’ll tell your father how you came onto me like a whore desperate for attention. I’ll make sure Benjamin has an ‘accident’ that'll prevent him from ever playing any sport ever again. And if you feel the need to tell your father about us,” bile rises in my throat, “just know I have proof of your gay porn search history along with the top conversion therapy centers. I've read what they do to little faggots like you. You wouldn't survive a day!”He spits at me and walks away.

I'm going to die.

I groggily open my eyes lying on the rough carpet, naked.

My bones creak as I force myself to sit up. As the room spins, I let out a yelp at the sharp pain in my ass. Tears of frustration and agonizing pain burn their way down my cheeks as I notice the puddle of blood I’m sitting in. I can feel a few stinging cutson my back, but I know some of that blood came from him not using lube.

I gather all my strength, which isn’t much, and get dressed one painful limb at a time. By the time I’m fully dressed, I’m doubled over in pain.

Fuck, my body hurts.

I cradle my left arm that’s lit up in white hot pain as I try to open the door. Locked. I bang my forehead against the door as I try to get my foggy brain to focus on how to get out of here. I pat my pockets but don’t find my phone. Fresh tears fall as my will to escape slips.

I can’t die here.

Remembering my father has a letter opener in his desk, I move as quickly as my aching body will allow. Ripping open the top drawer, I throw the papers to the ground, moving all the shit around until my fingers find the metal opener. Making my way back to the door, I slide the letter opener in the small hole on the handle and unlock it with a flick of my wrist.

Morons have top-of-the-line everything but the simplest locks.

The walk to the elevator and the ride to the bottom floor goes by in a blur as I go in and out of consciousness. It also drains more energy than I have.

But I can’t stop here. I need to get as far away as possible.

My teeth chatter as I hobble along the sidewalk, vaguely familiar with the streets. Thankfully a nice old lady stops and offers me a ride. I tell her the backway to my childhood house, stopping at the gate the housekeepers use at the back of the property.

“Are you sure I can’t call anyone for you, sweetie?” she asks through the rolled-down window.

“N-No thank you,” I stutter through the painful chills wracking my body.

I slide between the gates before she has a chance to say anything else.

Gloria is going to be pissed when she sees me. But I just need a key to any car and one of my old phones I hid under a loose floorboard.

I keep to the edge of the property so I don’t trip any of the motion detector lights. I breathe a short sigh of relief when I see her kitchen light on.

Slowly opening the door that they never lock, I sneak into the back room and grab a key fob from a hook where they keep all the keys. Moving the dusty rug, I gingerly crouch down, stifling a moan when my back lights up from the movement. Breathing deeply through my nose, I steady myself as I pry the floorboard open. As my fingers wrap around one of the phones, Jeffery walks into the room. His eyes go wide in shock.

“Please don’t say anything,” I rush out quietly. “I just need these,” I hold up the phone and key fob as I slowly stand up. “I was never here, okay?”

Out of everyone, he and Gloria know what I’ve been through the most. Not everything, but enough to know I can’t be caught here.

“What can I do to help?” he whispers.

I bite my lip, tasting blood from a cut I can’t feel. “Please help me get to the road without being seen.”

He nods as he slides on his boots and jacket.

“Here,” he hands me a hat and jacket.

I can’t get my left arm through the sleeve without searing pain shooting up my arm. Jeffery helps me slide my right arm in and zips it up with my left arm tucked against my chest. Once the hat is on, I follow him out the back door to the garage. Hitting the unlock button on the key fob, a silver Aston Martin’s lights flash. I climb in as Jeffery hits the button to open the garage.

The engine is quiet as I roll up to him. He holds up a hand for me to stop. Rolling down the window, I see a sad look in his eye.

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