9. Olivia

Olivia

T he night passes agonizingly slowly, and I alternate from being cold to being hot and from conscious to unconscious, my body throbbing in pain. I vomit a few times, probably some acid, as I don’t remember when I ate or drank the last time. When more bile rises to my throat, I turn my head to the side, and more vomit gets into my hair and into the blanket, the smell making me even sicker.

I never thought I would miss Jason. Not him in particular, but my room from his apartment. I had a small stash of prescribed drugs and some alcohol, and I would get smashed at least once a week while I watched sappy movies.

I just need a bottle of booze and a joint, and I will relax enough to slip inside my mind and not feel anything anymore.

With that in mind, I pull on the restraints until my wrists and ankles are bleeding, but Jasper locked the cuffs tight, and it is impossible to escape them. What’s worse is that my bladder is killing me, but I don’t even dare think about peeing myself. Rueben would probably cut out my kidneys and shove them down my throat.

There was a time when Rueben didn’t absolutely hate me. A time when we could laugh together or talk about…the future. But I destroyed all of that in one moment. My heart aches, not for me, but for Camila and the life she never got to experience because of me.

I hate my very existence, and I hope Rueben will finally find some peace once he kills me.

Close to morning, I start to feel so cold, my body shakes uncontrollably, and I can no longer control my bladder. My cheeks turn red with shame, and I consider calling out for help, but experience has taught me that no one comes to my rescue, no matter how hard I scream. So I lay there under a cold pool of my own urine and pray that Rueben leaves me here until I take my last breath, which doesn’t seem too far off, as my chest hurts so badly, each breath is agony.

The sunlight finally filters through the window, hitting me in the face. I cast a glance out the window, a wooden fence in front of it and beyond that a pasture, and I think I see a beautiful black horse with white stars all over its back running before I fall into a dreamless sleep.

“Olivia,” someone says my name loudly as they shake my shoulder, trying to wake me up. Jasper?

I know I have to obey, but I am finally out of pain, and memories no longer torment me, and I want to keep sleeping.

“She is burning up,” Jasper says next.

Am I?

Did I die and end up in hell, where I belong? But if so, why do I feel so cold? My entire body is trembling. Even my teeth are chattering.

“Being a whore must have finally caught up with her,” another says as the blanket is suddenly yanked away from me and my left leg pulled to a side, “Rueben is not wrong when he says she has a diseased cunt.”

Diseased cunt? I was never called that before, but it’s not a lie, not after all the things I was forced to do with men, but it still hurts to know what others think of me.

“Did she piss herself?”

Oh. My. God.

My eyes open and dart around the room unable to focus on anything, as everything is spinning around. My head feels like it’s about to explode. I am still alive. Unfortunately.

Jasper and one of his blood-brothers stand next to the bed, probably looking with disgust at the mess I made.

“I’m sorry,” I croak. “I tried to be good….” I did, I really did, but the room is so cold….

A wave of nausea hits me, and I close my eyes, not wanting to vomit again, and I hear, “You should have tried harder, dumb bitch.”

“Guess detox is a pain in the ass,” Jasper says as he opens the handcuffs, then he picks me up, a hand resting under my bare ass, sending stabs of pain all over my body.

He is wearing a tank top, and I rest my cheek against his shoulder. “You are freezing,” I tell him.

“I came straight here after I took care of Juniper.” Who is Juniper? Another woman? Maybe from last night? “The stable is pretty cold today.”

He keeps the poor woman in the stable? I want to ask him to bring her here, but it’s not my place to question them. But if they have another woman, maybe they won’t want to fuck me. Jasper wasn’t interested yesterday. Maybe he is interested in this Juniper person, and he won’t touch me? It is wishful thinking, but I hate sex and men touching me, but I am also a really awful person to be relieved Jasper is not fucking me when he could be harming Juniper. Why am I so awful? I hate myself so damn much. My self-loathing grows daily, and my only thoughts are to end my pitiful existence.

Next, Jasper says, “Tyson, help her take a shower.”

Tyson. I should have guessed it was him.

“Why me?” Tyson complains.

“Because I am cleaning the bed,” Jasper huffs. “Or you can do it.”

Tyson snarls, “I’ll take care of the bitch.”

I don’t have to be a genius to know he absolutely hates having to help me. Tyson takes me to the bathroom and has me stand in the middle of it. I am so dizzy and weak that I fall to my knees. My ribs feel like they are on fire. At least the floor is cold, and I rest my right cheek against it.

“Good God! I don’t know why Rueben insists on keeping you around,” Tyson snarls as he drags me into the shower and turns it on, a waterfall of cold water falling on top of me. I curl up into a ball. “Stupid bitch, you got me all dirty. Now I stink like a bum.”

‘I am sorry,’ I want to say, but everything hurts, and the water keeps falling on top of me.

“Get your ass up and wash yourself!” he orders me.

I try to do as he asks and get onto my knees before forcing myself to stand, but I fall again, hitting my head against the wall.

Jasper rushes inside the bathroom. “I said help her wash, not kill her,” he says as he steps inside the shower. “What the fuck!? The water is freezing.”

Tyson shrugs. “I thought cold water was good for people with a fever.”

Jasper mutters something under his breath as he takes me out of the shower and has me sit on the toilet. My shirt is soaked and cold, and it clings to me like a second skin, and I wrap my arms around myself.

“She is going to die sooner or later; I don’t see the point in dragging out the inevitable,” says Tyson.

Me either.

Jasper goes to check the temperature of the water. “You already know why.”

“If you think that by fucking her and posting videos of her and her nasty pussy all over social media, we will finally be able to take down Senator Deymar, you are delusional. That man doesn’t give a fuck about her. He will even deny she is his daughter.”

Tyson is not wrong about my father, although he might have a heart attack if his career as a politician is ruined.

“You think that didn’t cross my mind? We will have Cirro look into the evidence once he is done with that job for the Elders,” says Jasper.

What evidence?

Except for my birth certificate, there is little proof of me living with my parents while growing up. There had been a handful of times when I was allowed to be part of the family photos, and I am sure my mother had thrown them out already as she always hated the color of my hair. ‘Red is for whores,’ she used to say, although my hair is auburn, it was the same thing for her. Guess she was right in the end, I am a whore.

“Whatever. Like I said last night, I don’t want any part in this shit,” Tyson says and leaves.

Jasper lets out a loud sigh before returning to me. “Do you need to use the toilet?”

I shake my head. He removes his clothes, then mine.

“Don’t mind Tyson. He always gets like this when he is editing one of his books,” he says as he takes me to the shower.

The water is warm enough to stop me from shaking.

Jasper is gentle as he cleans my hair.

I want to ask him why he is pretending to be nice to me, but men don’t like it when women are nosy, so I keep quiet and let my mind wander. I hate when I am forced to think or to feel, and I miss the numbness provided by drugs.

He takes my right hand in his and looks at my wrist. His thumb brushes across the wounds I made by pulling hard on the cuffs. “No matter how hard you try, you will never be free of us.”

“I only wanted to find some drugs.”

“We are not into that shit, and as I mentioned before, you are never going to take drugs again.”

“Why?” I whisper. “I am not harming anyone.”

“Rueben wants you to be clean and look healthy in the sex video we are going to make.”

“I can use makeup,” I suggest, letting him know I am willing to take part in their absurd plan of taking down my father. It’s not like I have any other option.

Jasper grabs my hip. “But you will still look like a living corpse. I don’t want the Dukes to think we are only feeding you on Mondays and Fridays.”

“You think the Dukes care about how I look? All they care about is fucking me.”

“If a Duke were right here, right now, he would see you only as a sex slave, and he would not care what happens to you, but once you are healthy and radiant, looking absolutely smitten with us, every single Duke in town will want to possess you completely and to anchor their angels to you.”

Smitten with them? Like that would ever happen.

“No one wants me. I am damaged goods. One look at my scars and it is enough for anyone to know what I am.”

Jasper grabs my chin and forces me to look into his eyes. “Do you know what kintsugi is?” I shake my head. “It’s an old Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold.” Tracing a scar I have below my belly button, he adds, “Your scars, once healed, will glow.”

“No amount of gold will fix me.”

Jasper keeps talking, “When we film you being railed by us, making you scream our names, those watching the videos will know you are our woman.”

I frown. “Why is it important to make everyone believe I am your woman? You can always fuck me and show it to the world.”

“True. But the effect won’t be the same.” Probably noticing I am still confused, he adds, “You will understand soon.”

When I am clean and dried, Jasper takes me back to the room. Clean sheets and a new blanket are on the bed.

“I am sorry for getting it dirty,” I say.

“You are good,” he says as he puts me on top of the bed, then goes to the closet and takes a t-shirt from inside. “I flipped the mattress upside down,” he lets me know as he dresses me. “Lie down.”

Lying on my back feels like needles are stuck in my ass, but I do as I am told. When he tries to restrain me again, I say, “Please, I will go absolutely insane if I have to spend more time tied to the bed.”

“Just until you are free of drugs.” But I don’t want to be free of drugs! Not that it matters what I want. It never does. “I will return in a few minutes with your breakfast and some meds for the fever.”

“I am not hungry,” I mumble.

“Food is non-negotiable,” Jasper says before leaving me alone.

I close my eyes and try to sleep because I feel like I have been hit by a train. With a bit of luck, Jasper will forget about me. Besides, even if I want to eat, I don’t think I can stomach anything. Everything…just hurts.

I start to cough, and my throat feels so dry. Water would be nice but do I dare ask for it?

It takes a few minutes before the cough finally stops.

My chest hurts even worse.

The room keeps spinning and spinning. It feels more like I am on a boat in the middle of the ocean during a storm.

I close my eyes.

The door opens, and someone enters.

I pretend to be asleep.

“Mose finally took pity on me and made something without spice—bacon and eggs.” Jasper’s voice reaches my ears. Why does he keep telling me random stuff I don’t care about? “Also, Merry Christmas.”

I crack open my eyes. I didn’t even realize it was Christmas. The last time I celebrated it was with Camila and her family. I miss her so much, each passing second is agony without her. “Merry Christmas to you too,” I whisper, while I don’t feel ‘merry’ at all. In fact, I rarely feel anything anymore. It’s better this way, as I no longer want to deal with sentiments.

Jasper puts a tray with food and medicine on it on the bedside table. “Mose made chicken soup and some orange juice for you,” he says as he frees my hands.

“Water is more than fine,” I say before I cough some more.

“You need nutrients.”

Drugs are what I need.

He helps me sit on the bed and puts the bowl of soup on my lap.

“Eat!” he orders me.

“I will probably throw up everything in just a few minutes,” I sigh before I eat a spoonful of the soup.

It’s spicy like hell, and I cough so hard Jasper takes the soup away from me before I knock the bowl out of my lap and gives me juice. I gulp down half of it before I lie down and he takes the glass away from me.

“I have a low tolerance for spicy food,” I say.

“I will let Mose know.”

My gaze goes to him, and his brown eyes stare back at me. Looking away, I say, “There is no need. Besides, Rueben will kill me soon anyway.”

“Maybe,” Jasper says as he reaches to grab the tube of ointment from the tray, “or we will keep you here at the farm to be our little plaything…” he looks at me, our gaze locking, “forever.”

His tone is serious, making me shiver in fear because I have been Carlos’ plaything for a long time, and I don’t want to experience that again.

“Turn to the side so that I can put some ointment on your wounds,” he instructs me.

I obey, and he takes his time applying ointment to every scratch I have, even the ones on the soles of my feet that I got while running through the forest. He is kind enough to take out the splinters as well.

After he gives me some medicine for the fever, he binds my wrist again, picks up the tray, and stands. “I will return with food you can eat.”

Before I can say he doesn’t need to bother, he is out the door, leaving me alone.

The medicine makes me sleepy, and before long, I nod off. I still feel like I am being rocked by a boat, and all kinds of sounds—from babies crying to wolves howling in the night—scream in my ears.

A lone tear escapes the corner of my eye as I relive one of the worst days of my life.