Page 86 of Pretty Little Fears

No.It'sthe predator stalking from the corner of the room, that has every inch of me on high alert.Mysteps falter and if it wasn't for the men grasping my arms,Iwould probably be splayed out on the floor right now.Lorenzopeers down at me with hatred and disgust.Hisbrows furrowed as he goes to squeeze his nose, blocking out his ability to smell. “Christ, you fucking reek.GiannaandBethare my workers.Theywilltryto fix this-” he waves his hands out, motioning towards me, “mess.”

Crumbsof anger make their way to the surface.He’sinsulting me when he's the reasonI’mcovered in slobber, vomit and cum.Theskin of my tongue breaks and blood fills my mouth as my teeth clamp down on it.Ibite back my snarky comments, knowingI’lljust be met with more punishment ifIspeak.Igive a stiff nod.

“Youwill not disrespect them.Wehave plans for tonight andIneed you to look like a presentable whore, not just a whore.”Hespits out, every word stabbing at my broken armor that's barely holding on. “Ifyou disobey me,Iwill take your ass the next timeIbeat you.Doyou understand me?”

Hegrips my face, smushing my cheeks together in a grip so punishing,Ibet it'll leave a bruise.Lorenzoshakes my head forcefully to imitate a yes motion.Lettinggo, he pats my cheek a little harder than necessary. “Verygood.Iknew you could be an obedient whore.Youjust need to be broken and trained.Thatwon't be an issue.”Hepeers down once more and his upper lips curl as he walks out of the room.

Themen who were holding me let go and spread out to the corners of the room.Myeyes dart to the door as two women enter.Thepair of women share the same inky black hair and dark eyes.Eyesthat hold all of the misery and brutality they've seen behind these doors.Theiroutfits are short black dresses with the cliche white apron over top.

Whereone is tall, young, and skinny to the pointIcan see her bones, the other is short and older, wrinkles decorating her skin.Walkinginto the room they give me small smiles that don't reach their dead eyes.Iassume these women areGiannaandBeth. “Doyou guys know what's going on?”Iwhisper as they get closer.Theylook at each other and then me, but don't speak. “I’mbeing held here against my will, you have to help me, as a woman, how can you stand by and let this happen?Please.Pleaseyou have to-”

I'mcut off when one of the men smacks me across the face.Iwas so focused on trying to reason with the women,Ididn’t see him approach me. “That’senough.Gotake a fucking shower, dirty fucking bitch!”Heshouts.Lookingback at them, something akin to sympathy flashes in their eyes but less than a second later, they are void of any compassion.

“IamBeth, and that'sGianna.”Theshorter one explains, herRussianaccent noticeable. “Let'sgo get you cleaned up.”

Withgentle, yet frigidly cold hands, she guides me to the adjoining bathroom.Giannaturns on the shower, andIwatch as she gathers towels, products, and tools.Sheplaces them all on the counter of the vanity in the bathroom then turns to face me. “Youneed to undress so we can wash you.”Hervoice is scratchy, less confident than the older lady.

Iwonder if she’s also here against her will, if all of the women in this house are.Notwanting them to touch me more than they’ll have to,Ibegin to strip off my vomit-stained clothes.Icatch a glance in the mirror and the woman looking back at me has a gasp falling from my lips.Inthe span of a few days,I’vegotten significantly thinner.

Myface is bruised and the wounds on my back look angry with the raised split flesh.Thedried blood and cum has scabbed over.Bruiseslitter my arms, legs, and around my stomach.Driedblood coats my thighs.

Mythroat starts to feel tight and my breathing picks up.Iquickly look away and try to tamp down the screaming agony that is bubbling up my chest and into my throat.Theshell of the woman looking back at me is nothing like the girlIremember.

Bethlightly grabs my arm and starts to pull me into the steam of the shower.Thegentle spray still hurts my tattered skin, andIlet the pain that was bubbling up boil over.Closingmy eyes under the water, the tearsIwas holding back easily start flowing down my cheeks.

Thespray of the water hides the drops rolling from my eyes but it doesn't hide the pain shining in them or the small cries that leave my lips.Thefeeling of a rag on my abused skin causes my eyes to spring open asIhiss.

Bethdoesn't stop though, she continues to take the rag and wash off the chunks of dried vomit and cum, as well as the blood coating my back and thighs.Thefabric against my raw flesh burns butIgrit my teeth and push through it, hoping it'll be over soon.

Tryingto distract myself from what feels like sandpaper being scraped against my skin,Iopen my mouth to ask again but the words die in my throat as she begins on the open wounds decorating my back. “Fuck,”Irasp, the pain causes black dots to dance across my vision.ItseemsBethnotices and tries to distract me as she whispers.

“It'sa welcoming gala.Juststay quiet and lay low and you’ll make it home in one piece.”

Herconfession has me more confused than before.Theonly thingItake away from her words is thatI’mleaving the house.

Home?

Thatisnotwhat this place is.It’sa perfectly curated hell andLucifer-ImeanLorenzo, runs the show.Ifthere's an opportunity to escape,Iwould be stupid not to take it.Idon't know when the next timeI'llbe leaving this prison is.Bethfinishes washing me and by the timeIstep out of the shower,InoticeGiannahanging up a dress.

“Yourdress.”Shesays while shaking the material.Ifinish drying off, careful of my sensitive skin and allow them to help me into the dress.Thetight black material hurts my skin as it presses against it.Thedress has a deepVin the front, exposing my cleavage.

Thelong sleeves hide the bruises marring them.Thedress is long, molding to my body until it swishes out around my ankles at the bottom.Thematerial pulls at the scabs and scars covering my back and for a moment,Iappreciate my vomit-covered clothing.Atleast it was comfortable.

Oncethe dress is on,Giannagrabs my wrist and leads me to a chair in front of the mirror.Idon't have to ask what they're about to do,Ican tell based on all the makeup and hair products in front of me.Theycake makeup on my skin, covering the bruises with layers of foundation and color corrector.AsGiannaworks on my makeup,Bethstands behind me doing my hair.

Minutesgo by, then an hour until they're done.Giannasteps out of the way andIget a glimpse of myself in the mirror.Myeyes widen in shock whenIsee my reflection.Withthe amount of makeup on my skin, you can't see the bruises hiding underneath,Iwould almost sayIlook good.

Prettyeven.

Arock forms in the pit of my stomach.Thatsame gut feelingIhad before, and ignored, is back, and this timeIlet it simmer.Ineed it.Theuniverse is alerting me that something is not right andIwon't ignore it this time.Bethdistracts me by pulling me back into the bedroom and ushering me into a pair of heels that feel one size too small.

Lorenzois striding through the door the momentIfinish shoving my foot into the small shoe. “Let’sgo.”Hebarks.Rememberingmy plan,Idon't complain and pick up my pace behind him.Wewalk through the foyer andIsee the front door.“Don'teven think about it, bitch.”Hesnarls over his shoulder.

“Iwasn’t,”Iwhisper.Ineed him to believeIwon't escape,Ineed to wait for an opening.

Grabbingmy wrist in his sweaty palm, he starts to pull me out the front door, to a waiting car.Thedriver rounds the side and opens the door, whileLorenzoall but shoves me inside.

Imove to the opposite side of the backseat, as far from him as possible as he enters the car.Thefeeling of possible freedom has a bit of my personality coming back, causing me to speak under my breath.

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