Page 75 of The Boy I Loved
Footsteps scuffed against the cement, slow and calculating. Voices reached my ears, but they were low murmurs. I forced my eyes closed, hoping they’d leave me alone if they thought I was sleeping. Darkness peered back at me through the confines of my lids. I knew this wouldn’t save me if they decided to come after me, but it was all I could think of. As long as I didn’t draw too much attention to myself, it gave me a small amount of hope.
I should have known better.
The voices grew louder until they faded altogether. The blood was rushing through my ears, pulsing through my body in waves.
The keys from the fob jingled nearby, making me tense up despite myself. When the key entered the lock, I tightened my grip around the blanket, silently begging and praying that they wouldn’t come for me—that it was some kind of mistake. That I’d misheard, and they were still walking.
The door to my cell creaked open and I bit back a whimper, attempting to slow my breathing so I didn’t give myself away.
“Get that blanket off her,” a familiar voice instructed.
Footsteps approached until they were so close I knew I could reach out and touch him if I wanted. A cold chill seeped into my skin when the blanket was tugged from my naked body. Now, I knew why they had the shower rotations the way they did. We were forced to be clean for them and had to bathe once to twice daily. My nipples pebbled instantly, causing a current of shame to pulse through me in violent waves.
“Fuck. She’s gotta nice rack,” Tristan commented, a hint of lust to his tone.
My breathing stuttered as fear wrapped its talons around my heart and squeezed. Fingertips grazed the inside of my thigh, eliciting a sharp gasp. My eyes flew open, taking in the three, looming figures standing above me.
Vincent’s lips twisted into that malicious smirk I was becoming way too accustomed to. Shadows nearly covered him whole from the dark clothing he wore, paired with his dark hair. His blue eyes contrasted against the shadows, standing out like a beacon of doom. Beside him was Tristan. His arms were folded over his chest, his gaze trailing over my naked form with a quiet kind of intrigue. Closest to me was Rodney, his fingers dancing over the apex of my right thigh.
“I told you I’d come for you,” Vincent spoke, drawing my attention back to him.
I sat up quickly, using my elbows to push myself backwards. “Please,” I whispered, so quietly I wasn’t sure they could even hear me. “Don’t,” I added more firmly.
“We just want to have a bit of fun.” Rodney grinned, flattening his palm against my leg.
How had I ever thought he was my friend? He wasn’t anything like the sweet, goofy kid I met at the end of last year. He was just as demented as those around him. Dread snaked down my spine, flooding through my system with ferocity. Jerking my legs away from his touch, I pressed myself against the cold wall behind me, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“Hold her down,” Rodney demanded, his voice hardening into something darker.
Tristan and Vincent were on me before I could even process that they’d moved. Tristan grabbed my left ankle, jerking me down on the mattress while Vincent took to my right shoulder, pinning me in place. I kicked my legs out, terror clawing through my chest. I’d been good. I hadn’t fought, and I’d done everything asked of me. But I’d be damned if I let them take me against my will without putting up a fight.
Vincent’s eyes lit up with intrigue when my bare foot made contact with Rodney’s chest, shoving him back. He quickly righted himself, a flicker of annoyance cresting across his face.
“Get away from me,” I snapped, rage mixing with the fear inside of me. With my free hand, I held it in front of me as a pointless shield.
“Pathetic,” Tristan snarled, looking down at me with a cold, calculative expression. “You think you stand a chance against us?”
I didn’t. There was no way in hell I’d be able to fight them off and win. It didn’t stop me from wanting to try though. Nia had been in too much pain to fight, but she still gave it her all. She was strong, whether these assholes noticed it or not. I’d be strong too. Not only for me, but for the women who were too scared to fight back.
“Fuck you.” I growled, the sound rumbling through my chest. It was such a foreign sound coming from me that I hadn’t realized it did at first.
Tristan’s grip tightened on me further, the pain sparking through the flesh in which he gripped it. A whimper got lodged in my throat, but I swallowed it down, not wanting to give them the satisfaction.
Rodney climbed onto the mattress, grabbing my free hand in a vice-like grip before he squeezed. Tears sprang to my eyes instantly, a dull throb pounding through the limb.
“I will break it if I have to,” he warned.
“She’ll learn,” Tristan said. “Won’t you, baby?” His voice was condescending, and it only pissed me off further.
“I hope you get AIDS and die,” I snarled venomously.
He barked a laugh of surprise, startling me from the suddenness of it. Before I could insult him further, Rodney was wedging my legs apart with a strength I didn’t realize he possessed. He wasn’t a big guy; he was small—built like a twig. In an odd way, I used to find that attractive about him. Not anymore.
I struggled against him, panic spearing through me. But I was being held from every angle. My shoulder was pinned into the mattress while my opposite leg was as well. Rodney still had a tightgrip on my free hand, preventing me from doing anything other than flopping like a fish in a pathetic attempt to escape.
“Here.” Rodney held my arm out, offering it to Vincent, who took it without question, stretching my arm far above my head, causing my breasts to jiggle before their predatory gazes.
Rodney returned both hands to my thighs, shoving them apart and climbed between them, lowering his mouth to my pussy. His hot breath feathered over the sensitive flesh there, my heart slamming into my ribcage.
