Page 57 of Ruin

“What do you want?” Cain asks him.

“Beer, a cold beer, that’s all I want.” Big Man tells him and stands up as Cain walks closer to him. The color drains out of Big Man’s face. He has the same fear everyone else down here has around Cain.

“You helped and protected my brother when he was here. You will get your cold beer, and if you help and find something out, which will protect him out there, I might think about letting you out.” Not waiting for an answer, Cain leaves, but I know he’s only standing by the door.

“Is he always so fucking… there is no word for him, is there?”

“No,” a simple answer, the only answer he needs to know.

“You think he means it? I can get out?”

I stand up and take a step closer to him. “If he said it, then yes, he means it. I’m going to stay here. I need to stay to show people I’m not scared.” This was the other thing I wanted to do. Now they all know who I am, I need to be here and become fearless.

“I’ve got your back,” he tells me, and I leave the room and stand next to Cain.

“Lincoln will be here, watching in case something happens.” Cain walks with me as we go down the stairs.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“Learn to read people.” Cain stops and turns to me. “I picked you for a reason, Declan. I know in a few years you’ll be able to read people, you won’t bring the fear I do to people, but when you walk into this Pit, everyone here and out there, will know not to fuck with you, because you will have an energy around you. I’m waiting for it to come out, you’re locking it away. Open the door and let it out. If you need to be here for it to come out, then be here. But it will come, and I can’t wait for the day.” Cain continues to walk down the stairs, and I follow him, wondering what door he is talking about.

The man with his fucking riddles and poker face, but he still believes in me, and I won’t let him down.

FOURTEEN

TRIXIE

“Where have you been?”Robert shouts as I walk straight to my bedroom. I have no idea why he’s asking me. It’s not like he’ll understand what I’m saying to him anyway.

I try to slam my bedroom door shut, but Robert stops it, and I already know this is going to be a horrible night, a night I wish would never come.

“What does he have that I’m not giving you?” Well, he isn’t giving me bruises every night. He might torture me, but not once has he hit me. So, there is that one thing.

He grabs my hair, pulls me to the floor, and kicks me in the stomach. “Were you with him?” he shouts, and again, I ignore him. He kicks me once again, a lot harder this time. It makes me cough hard, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“I can give you the world. Buy you all the gifts you want. I would never say no to you.” He sits on top of me, and I close my eyes as the tears come. The only reason you will give me all those things is so you can abuse me every way you can think of. Sick bastard.

I try to push him away, but it’s not working. The only reason I started kickboxing was so I can fight him, but whenever he’s around me, I become too weak to fight.

“Stop fighting me. You don’t even kiss me,” he shouts, and grabs my head and slams it onto the floor. My head feels really heavy, almost too heavy for me to hold it up.

He tries to kiss me, but I slap him in the face, then try to push his face away from me. “You can fight it all you want, Patricia. You can fight it all you want, but it won’t get you anywhere.”

I slap him a few times, hoping it will get him off me, but it doesn’t work. He punches me in the stomach. This time it is fucking hard, making me cough again.

“I’m being nice by not touching your face. If you carry on the way you are, I’ll smash your face in.” He grabs my chin hard, so I’m looking at him. “Do you understand me?”

Pain. That’s the only thing I can think about at the moment. I can’t stop the tears in my eyes, the pain is too much.

“I’ve always been nice and kind. I’ve always used protection with you. But maybe now I should get to feel you bare.” He licks the side of my face, and I have to physically stop myself from vomiting as the acid from his tongue hits my skin. “I can play now.” He puts his hand up my t-shirt, and I punch him harder this time. I push him hard, so he gets off me, giving me the chance to get out from under him rushing over to the bathroom. I slam the door shut and lock it.

My back is on the door, and he slams his hands onto it.

“Open the fucking door!” he shouts.

Sliding down, I sit on the floor, as he continues to slam his hands on the door, shouting insults toward me. I wipe my tears away. My hands shake as I pull out the blade from my drawer.

Anything is better than this. Anything is better than being abused every day, being used as a punch bag.

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