Chapter 3

Ophelia

"Isaid orders up!" a gruff voice yelled from the kitchen.

"I'm coming!" I called back. I hated when he yelled like that. He reminded me of my dad, the man I wished would die and leave me alone to live in the small house on the hill. Some people hated loneliness, but after a lifetime of angry outbursts that knew no limits, I would have welcomed the silence.

"Thanks," I snapped as I blew a loose strand of dark hair off my forehead.

I balanced the tray on one hand, stacked to the limit with dirty glasses, bowls, and plates. When I entered the muggy kitchen, the cook nearly knocked me over in his haste to shove another tray into my hands. I put the dirty dishes by the sink and took the orders before the cook had a stroke. The smell of eggs and grits drifted toward my nose. It was heavenly. The cook might have been an asshole, but he could make some grits.

I grabbed a plastic cup of ranch and went right back out to the floor. Table four. They always ordered the same thing every time they came in. Scrambled eggs with a side of ranch for the good-looking one, and grits with extra butter for the big one.

I set the eggs in front of the man with sandy brown hair. He wore a flannel shirt, buttoned up high, but I could still make out the cut of his arms beneath the material. He wasn't overly muscled, but he looked strong. I offered him a grin.

"Thank you, miss," he said with a warm smile.

I slid the grits in front of the man across from him. He was gruff, with a scraggly beard and long, dark hair tied off with a sprig of twine. His filthy overalls hung open on one side, and he smelled like cigarettes and mold. He didn't even offer so much as a nod of his head before he dug into his meal like a ravenous animal.

The other man lifted his fork and looked around the table. I'd forgotten to give him the necessary—and strange—topper. I plucked the two cups from the tray and set them in front of him, fighting back the curl of my lip as he poured the creamy ranch over his eggs.

He glanced up at me with a laugh. "It's good. Don't knock it until you've tried it."

"I'll take your word for it," I said. "Do you need anything else?"

He shook his head and thanked me again.

I went to the register to write out their check, but I couldn't stop my gaze from moving back to him. When he ate, he picked around, careful and almost refined. If it weren't for his dirty jeans and the worn boots on his feet, I'd have mistaken him for a city boy. The man across from him looked—and smelled—like he belonged in a pigpen. They were night and day, those two.

When they were nearly done with their food, I placed the check on the table and started to walk away.

"See you soon," the big one said.

The other man flashed his narrowed gaze at him before meeting mine. I nodded and continued toward the kitchen. The big one had never spoken to me before, but I let the weird interaction drift out of my mind as I went off to clean plates and coffee pots. When I came back out, everyone had left, including the two local men. I went to clean off their table, and while I hadn't expected a tip, I had expected payment.

They'd left neither.

"Son of a bitch," I murmured under my breath.

I looked outside and saw the lights of an old pickup illuminating the far side of the parking lot. I marched across the gravel and tapped on the driver's window. The attractive one lowered it, and the low twang of country music spilled from the cab.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Y'all didn't pay. If you don't give me what's owed, I have to take it out of my own money," I said with a hand on my hip.

"Gunnir, is that right?" he said, turning to the big man in the passenger seat. "You didn't pay the lady?"

Gunnir shrugged. "Guess I forgot."

I looked around the parking lot. It was empty except for the truck and the cook's little sedan in front of the diner door. I'd chosen to walk to work that afternoon, and now I regretted it. The trees swayed in the breeze, and the cattails brushed against each other, creating a low hum. I took a moment to glance up at the sky—cloudy and heavy without a star in sight. The dim parking lot lights didn't help cut through the darkness, especially since one flickered on its last legs and another had gone out completely.

The driver reached through the window and placed his hand on my arm. The hair on my neck started to prickle, and my stomach knotted on itself, twisting in my belly. If something happened to me out here, no one would hear me scream. The cook was busy cleaning the kitchen, and we were the only people left in the parking lot.

"Don't get your pretty panties in a twist," the driver said. "I can just pay now."

He let go of my arm and I released a silent sigh of relief. I was just being a scaredy cat. He thumbed through an old leather wallet, rifling past wrinkled bills. As he pulled out the bills—all ones, of course—I held my hand toward him. He released them before they reached my palm, letting the night breeze carry them away from me.

Assholes.

"I'm so sorry, miss. Let me help you out," he said as I started chasing the bills.

The truck doors slammed, and boots hit the ground as they approached. I squatted to pick up two singles near the rear tire, but he put his foot on one before I could grasp it. When my eyes rolled up to his, my breath caught in my throat.

"Just didn't want it to blow away. My god, you're jumpy. Relax, Ophelia."

He bent down and pulled the dollar from beneath his boot. As I was about to stand and take the money from his hand, pain seared through the back of my skull and traveled down my neck—a sharp burn before I stopped feeling anything at all.

* * *

A thick blanketof disorientation surrounded me like fog. I was draped over a man's shoulder, and pain seared through my head with every movement. I fought the urge to rub at the itchy dried blood on my temple. The man's fingers dug into my thigh and I tried to make a sound, but even my voice seemed lost. I heard a woman say something nearby, but I was too afraid to open my eyes. That would make this nightmare a reality.

"Come here, whore," a deep voice said.

The girl whimpered as a loud rustling sound ended with the clang of metal on concrete. When I lifted my head, I saw the blurry shadow of someone having sex with a girl. A chain tethered her ankle to the wall.

Everything in me told me to struggle, but I couldn't. Even if I could get my body to do what it needed to do, I was bound by the wrists.

Concrete rubbed my elbows as the man holding me placed me on the ground. Another chain rattled, and something wrapped around my ankle.

"Alex, if you don't fuck her, I will pull out of this one and put it right into her," said the gruff voice again. He sounded so far away.

"I don't like it when they're sleeping. What's the point?" the man behind me said.

"The point is busting a nut. Who the fuck cares if they're awake, sleeping, dead, or alive? Shit, pussy like that is good no matter what."

I whimpered and tried to pull forward, away from the prying hands on my thighs, but it was impossible to move. My limbs were too heavy to drag myself anywhere. My skirt rose to my waist, and a low growl came from behind me. Hard hands grasped my hips as they lifted me onto my knees, and the concrete dug into my skin. I felt as if I would fall forward onto my face, but he did everything to keep my ass up for him. The man behind me spit on his hand and rubbed the warm saliva between my legs.

"No," I whispered, but I wasn't sure if it was out loud or in my head.

He didn't respond either way. He pushed inside me, nearly knocking me onto my stomach. I turned my head to watch the blurry shadow in the corner fucking a girl through horrified screams as the rhythmic thrusts against my ass continued. The shadow wouldn't stop staring at me as he thrust harder, knocking the girl against the table.

I tried to disappear in my mind, but it hurt too much inside there, too. The blow caused a gnawing pain that refused to let up, especially as the man behind me put his weight over me and thrust harder. Every motion vibrated against my tender skull. I moved my arms toward my body, trying to find a way to baby my head.

"Fuck, how does she feel?" the blurry shadow said through a groan.

"She's incredible," the man behind me growled.

"I can't wait to take her for a ride myself," the shadow groaned.

The man behind me scoffed. "No, Gunnir, she's mine."

"We share shit. We always have. That's what brothers do."

I tried to turn over. He wasn't being rough with me, even if he was taking what he wanted by force. He didn't rip through me the way the shadow across the room ripped through the other girl. "Please," I begged, my voice still laced with pain.

"I'm almost done," he whispered as he dug his fingers into my hips.

From somewhere deep inside me, I found my voice. I screamed out.

"Keep fucking screaming," he groaned above me, his hips stalling as he came. "You can scream all you want. In fact, we encourage it."

He turned me onto my back, and the chain jangled against the ground. I was finally able to see him, and another scream ripped through me when recognition washed over me. Through my blurred vision, I could still make out his face. The "refined" one from the diner. The man who scattered the money across the parking lot. Mister Eggs with Ranch.

I turned my head toward the screaming beside me and realized it was the bigger one forcing another girl. He stared at me as he thrust, going harder once he saw me watching them.

The man above me let his cock rest against the fine, dark hair around my pussy. I flailed, and the more I struggled, the more his cock twitched against me, as if he was holding back from pushing inside me again. His come dripped from me in a thick white trail. My throat burned from screaming. My head was killing me. A sharp ache radiated from the left side of my skull. It was dizzyingly painful, but I knew I needed to fight through it. I kicked at the man sitting on his heels between my legs.

I had no idea where I was, but I could tell it was a basement from the musty scent wafting over me like a thick blanket. The concrete trapped the overwhelming smell of come, urine, and sweat. It reminded me of my dad's bedroom, reeking like the evil that slept within those walls.

I shivered at the thought of my father's heavy steps on the stairs after a night of drinking. I spent evenings silently hoping he wouldn't notice me. I already knew what true evil felt like inside me. Evil that turned from loving me unconditionally, like any father should, to touching me in ways he never should have. Now I'd been transplanted into a new space with the same smells and the same evils.

"Why?" I asked the man between my legs.

He tucked himself into his boxers and zipped his pants. With a sigh, he leaned over me, rubbing between my legs with the fly of his jeans. He pressed his lips close to my ear, and the scent of cheap cigarettes singed my nose. "Because you're mine now, O," he whispered. "Clean yourself up." He motioned toward a spigot against the wall before cutting the tape from my wrists and heading for the stairs.

"Please!" I begged. I didn't want him to leave me down there. I wanted him to let me go. He got what he wanted.

When he made no move to come back for me, I got to my knees, rubbing my head with a trembling hand. The movement sent more come oozing out of me, and the warmth against my thighs made me gag. Maybe cleaning myself up wasn't such a bad idea. I crawled toward the spigot, but the bigger man turned toward me with a harsh glare.

"Not yet!" he yelled out with a powerful thrust that shook the woman in front of him.

I sat back and tried to control my trembling hands enough to pull up my underwear.

Gunnir threw the girl forward, knocking her into the table, and raised the bib of his overalls so he could walk toward me. "Stop trying to pull up your panties, pretty thing," he said as he leaned down. The old denim absorbed his small cock as he squatted on thighs that threatened to rip through his clothes. He reached toward me with a wet hand and touched my face, and I flinched as he grazed my temple. "I had to hit you. I knew you wouldn't come with us on your own."

I tried to tighten my legs and pull my skirt down as far as I could, but it was futile. His eyes locked on the shadow between my legs, where his brother's come still coated me. Gunnir put his big hands between my knees and tore my legs apart. I whimpered as he leaned down until his greasy hair grazed my thighs. He inhaled, then blew out his disgusting, warm breath.

"He don't want me to fuck you," he said as he inhaled deeply again.

I looked up at the ceiling, where the wooden beams crossed above my head. I counted the bands of black rot in each thick shaft of wood and waited for him to do what he was going to do. I closed my eyes as he pushed one of his big fingers inside me with a groan. Tears dripped from the crease of my eyelids as he invaded me with another finger. He groaned, sat up, and dropped his face into the crook of my neck. The stink of sweat and old tobacco hung around him like a putrid cloud.

"Gunnir, come back over here. I want more," the other girl said. The tempting way she spoke caught his interest, and he righted himself and spit chew from his mouth. It splattered beside my hand.

He smirked at me. "Guess we'll have to wait to play," he said as he tapped my cheek with the hand that had been inside me, smearing his brother's come on my face. He went back to the other woman, gripped her hair, and forced her face into the table again.

I breathed a deep sigh of temporary relief as the other victim took the predator from between my legs and welcomed him between hers.

I shimmied toward the spigot, trying to make myself small and quiet as I turned it to little more than a trickle and washed the come from my face and between my legs. I leaned over and rinsed the blood from my temple. Red-tinged water dripped to the concrete and splattered at my feet. I'd probably never feel clean again, but I was as clean as I could get. I slid back to my spot, pulled up my underwear, and sat back against the wall. The rough floor rubbed my bare skin as I brought my knees to my chest and quietly sobbed into them.

Gunnir finished, leaving the other girl a sobbing mess of her own before heading upstairs and leaving us in the dark, damp basement. The girl crawled over to the shared spigot, spreading her legs beneath a heavy stream of water and letting it wash over her.

"Thanks," I whispered. I watched as she tried to soothe the pain between her legs.

"Gunnir is fucking disgusting," she whispered. "And so rough."

I took a deep breath. "What's his brother's name?"

"Gunnir always calls him Alex."

My stomach tightened. "What's your name?"

She laughed. "Just call me ‘whore.' That's been my name since I got here."

I shook my head. "How long have you been here?"

"What day is it?"

"September eighth," I said.

The girl let out a weak laugh. "I've been here since April." Her lips tightened. "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

My heart sank. Five months of that? How? How could she even take another day of it? We didn't speak as she pulled a pair of dirty pajama pants over her bruised legs.

"I won't call you that," I finally said. "What's your real name?"

She looked at me and smiled. "It's Sam."

"Ophelia," I responded, even though she hadn't asked.

"Welcome to hell, Ophelia."