Page 93 of When We Fall: Part Two
“Here is what’s going to happen,” Everett said calmly. “I’m going to hurt him until you give me what I want. And then I’m going to hurt him some more because I think he’s going to be a lot of fun. Then I’m going to hurt you, my sweet Luka. If you give me what I want, I’ll make the hurting less. I may even put sweet Fox out of his misery.”
“No,” E choked. “P-Please.”
“Don’t fucking tell him anything, E. Nothing. He’s going to fucking hurt us anyway. Don’t give in,” I garbled out. “Let him keep fucking trying. Fuck you, Everett. Fucking prick. Fuck you!”
Blazing heat surged through my body as something came down hard on my back. I screamed through the pain, Ethan’s cries even louder as he begged Everett for mercy.
None came.
Only more hits. More screams.
I was grateful for the drugs because they dulled a lot of the agony.
I wasn’t sure how long the torture went on for. After a hot iron was pressed to my wrist and I was branded with a number, I passed out, only to be woken by the drugs wearing off and more pain.
Ethan had lost his voice by then, but he hadn’t broken and given up the sugar.
I didn’t want him to.
I’d rather die than this prick take E’s work.
“You’re fucking wearing my patience thin,” Everett snarled, striking me again. My skin tore, and more blood blossomed out, but I only ground my teeth, doubling down.
Fuck him. Let him kill me.
More strikes. The blood was running freely from my body. I’d likely not be able to walk for days.
The hot iron was pressed against my feet, making everything that much worse.
I wept, continuing to take it.
Vomit erupted from me as the pain intensified. Everett pulled back, giving me a moment of reprieve.
I turned my head to look at E after a long moment, who stared back at me on his knees, his face a mess of tears and blood because they struck him too when I wouldn’t talk or break.
I heard a zipper come down.
“No,” I groaned, knowing what was going to happen next. “E, no. P-Promise. You don’t fucking give in.”
He stared back at me, his green eyes filled with so much pain it was killing me.
“Close your eyes,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “It’s OK. Close them, E. I-I’ll be OK. P-Promise. Go to your happy place. I’ll meet you there.”
He did as I told him, his chest heaving through his panic attack.
I didn’t scream when Everett hurt me. When he pushed into me and robbed me. Ethan didn’t need my trauma.
I simply closed my eyes, praying for death to find me soon.
“Fox,”Dante’s deep voice sounded out as he stepped in front of me, dressed in all black, days after Everett.
I stared up at him through my swollen eyelids. I wasn’t nearly healed enough to go another round. I’d been given time off from my beatings. I assumed it was so I’d heal a little before they began again. I couldn’t even fucking walk. My feet were fucked right now. Ugly blisters covered them. I knew there was no compassion when a doctor was sent in to bandage me and dose me with God knew what. It was a matter of keeping me alive for the next round. For the next fucking.
I wanted to throw up just thinking about it. In fact, I’d spent every night since curled into a tight ball in my small, cold room on an old mattress with no blanket. I cried and cried until I’d fall asleep, then wake and do it all over again.
Dante studied me, no emotion on his face.
“Will you kill me today?” I asked, my voice low.
