Sienna
I don’t know if I’m glad or upset that he’s already gone when I get outside.
I took longer than the three minutes he allotted me. Hell, it took me twice that to get up off the floor, to stop crying. And still, every few minutes, I suck in a breath and my entire body shudders.
Axel-I guess Giovanni’s making sure there aren’t any more fuck-ups-glances at me indifferently in the rear-view mirror.
Did he hear, I wonder?
Does he know what just happened?
Heat burns my face. I’m humiliated and hurt, and everything is falling apart.
And Giovanni’s too close. Too close to finding out everything. And being here, as much as I’m safest from Sean, if Giovanni finds out, I don’t know what I’ll do.
When we get to the casino, I’m relieved that Axel just walks me to the elevator and barely looks at me as we ride up in awkward silence. Only once we’re inside the penthouse does he speak.
“You’ll stay here until Giovanni’s back. The elevator will be locked. If you need something, you dial the lobby. They’ll help you.”
“Where is he?” I ask, my voice so small, and my face, I feel it twisting again. I don’t want to cry, not in front of him. I don’t want to be so pathetic.
Axel studies me, really studies me and he looks like he wants to say something.
All I want to do right now is disappear. I want for him to leave and for me to go into the bedroom and lock the door and sleep under the covers, buried beneath them. Sleep and forget. Just please God for a little bit, let me forget.
“Questions?” he finally asks.
I shake my head and before he’s gone, I’ve already turned and am going into the bedroom.
There’s no lock on the door. I never noticed that before. Only the bathroom door has one. But I’m too tired to do anything other than crawl into the bed. His bed.
I’m so, so tired.
I push the button to darken the glass to black. But before I can go to sleep, I remember Deirdre. She’s expecting me to return. I get my phone from my bag and send her a text telling her I won’t be back and to close up early.
That’s when I realize my bracelet is missing.
Panicked, I look around, but then I remember. I remember during my whipping that it caught on the blankets. I remember when it snapped but I forgot all about it. I forgot to get it.
I need to go back and get it.
I can’t think about that though. Not now.
Taking off my shoes, I get into the bed, smelling fresh sheets-who has their bed changed daily? My butt hurts so I lay on my belly and draw the covers up to my neck, then higher and all I hear is the ringing in my ears and the sniffles as I stare off into nothing. I’m not sure if my eyes are open or closed, it’s so dark in here, until finally, I fall asleep.
When I wake, the clock tells me it’s four in the morning. I turn onto my back, wince with pain, look at his side of the bed to find it empty. I get up only because I need to use the bathroom, then climb back into the bed and close my eyes again.
My backside is throbbing and sore. My thighs too.
I’ve never been whipped like that. What Sean did, it was a different sort of beating. He liked to use his fists. He couldn’t do it as often as he wanted though. It didn’t look good on the video to have me looking beat up. Look like I was made to.
Although rape sold well, too, didn’t it? As well as child pornography?
God.
Jesus.
Giovanni wants me to tell him that?
No. No way. I’m doing him a favor not telling him anything about that.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the things I did but those memories, they don’t go away. They don’t even dull. They’re in brilliant color and the details excruciatingly precise. I remember every sound, every touch, and it makes me sick, as sick now as if it were happening again.
I remember the looks on their face, too. All of them.
God.
I was a whore at eleven.
Little Bitch Whore.
His pet name for me. The bitch was because I fought. At least at first. Then I didn’t fight anymore. Not even when he wanted me to.