5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Skyla

I don’t know how long I lay on the bedroom floor. My ribs are screaming in pain, my stomach coiled tight with nothing left to empty, and my legs ache where the thick rope is now cutting into my bare skin.

Eventually, the bathroom door opens, and Professor Corwin steps out with a towel wrapped around his waist. His chest hair is a mixture of black and grey, spreading everywhere on his torso. The beer belly straining against the towel has me cringing as I look away in an attempt to mask my disgust.

His footsteps move across the room before pausing before me. I feel my body begin to shake in fear as his arms slip beneath me, lifting me into the air as he turns around and walks into the bathroom.

Setting me down into the tub, he plugs the drain before turning on the water. I flinch at the feeling before my eyes hesitantly meet his. He’s watching me with a pinched look as he scoops some of the filling water in his hands, pouring it over my hair.

“You’re a mess, my love.”

I don’t say anything, I just watch him quietly. He lets out a ragged sigh as he shakes his head.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It should have been easy from the start, you know?”

“What should have?” I ask carefully.

He grabs a loofa, covering it with soap before beginning to wash my shirt and legs. I’m a little confused why he’s doing it, but I’ll take this over him stripping me naked.

“Everything. You know, I met your mom in the same class that I met you.”

“My mom?” I echo.

His murky brown eyes come to me as he nods, mindlessly wiping the vomit off me as he continues.

“She was so beautiful, like sunlight walking into a room,” he smiles. “I sat by her on the first day. The way she looked at me, I knew it was always going to be us, forever.”

I swallow roughly, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, though, I push for more.

“And then you saw me, and you thought I looked like her?”

He looks at me and shakes his head. “You don’t just look like her. You’re a spitting image, her doppelganger. I couldn’t believe it when I laid my eyes on you. I watched you for weeks, waiting for an opening to show you all we could be.”

The wistfulness in his eyes slowly fades, a darkness taking over.

“Do you know what it was like to sit back and watch you with them? Watch them touch you, watch them hold you. Do you have any clue how many times I wanted to slit Walcott’s throat in the middle of class just for breathing in your direction?!” he snarls.

I stay quiet, fear gripping me tightly as I try to gently steer the conversation away from the boys.

“So, you and my mom dated?”

He hesitates for a moment before that soft, dreamy look re-enters his eyes. Oh, my God, he’s a fucking lunatic.

“We did, for several months, and we were really happy. Until that piece of shit Parris came along,” he spits. “She hated him, couldn’t stand the guy. He had just graduated, and his father chose my Giselle as his bride.”

His movements become jerkier and more harsh as he soaks the loofa into the rising water and begins scrubbing at my bound legs.

“Then fucking Putnam came into the picture, just like they always do. He thought he was owed Giselle, that she…she was some kind of property! And being the pig that Henry was, he shared her like a common whore!” he snaps, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

He closes his eyes, blowing out a heavy breath before looking at me.

“And then she died; she was taken from the world, from me. I have no doubt in my mind that Putnam and Parris were behind it. They are behind everything bad in this goddamn world.”

My body freezes, his words slowing in my mind as I try to process them.

“Wait, you think my father killed my mother?” I ask.

There is no way, right? No. This man is clearly unhinged. He’s completely delusional, bouncing in and out of reality at the drop of a hat. He’s confused and enraged over something that happened over twenty years ago.

“Of course, everyone knows it. The way her death was swept under the rug. You were sent away. Putnam went MIA for months. It’s obvious!” he snarls, his hands shaking as he drops the loofa.

He falls to the ground, holding his head in his shaky hands as he begins to sob.

“Giselle! My sweet, sweet Giselle.”

I don’t move a muscle, tracking his movements carefully, when all of a sudden, his tears have dried, sobs have ceased, and he looks at me with a blank face that chills me to the bone.

“It’s okay, though. Things are okay now. We can start our lives now, together.”

Knowing this is probably the wrong move, I say something stupid, hoping maybe it will shake him out of whatever delusion he’s living in.

“We can’t, though. I’m Skyla, not Giselle. You don’t love me; you love my mom, Professor Corwin.”

“You’re GISELLE!” he shouts, peeling my soaked shirt up and over my head. He’s clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed since my shirt can’t come off with my hands being tied. In his anger, he grabs the thin material, ripping it in two and exposing my breasts. Only my panties remain, but apparently I don’t get to keep those either.

Corwin rips those off as well, cupping more and more water over me. He abandons the loofa, covering his hands in shampoo as he begins scrubbing my hair. He yanks and pulls my hair, and I wince before he shoves me underwater. I hold my breath as one hand pins me to the tub, and the other aggressively rinses my hair before yanking me from the water.

I gasp for air, heaving and coughing as he grabs a bottle of conditioner.

“I bought the products you love. I want you to smell the same way you always have,” he says as he lathers my hair with a coconut scented shampoo. One that’s definitely not one of mine. I guess we are back to thinking I’m my mother.

He gives me the same treatment as before, shoving my head underwater as he washes away the conditioner, scrubbing my head aggressively as he yanks me out once more.

“Much better,” he says as I choke and gasp for air.

He pushes to his feet before bending down, scooping me out of the water, and carrying me into the bedroom. Water pours from my naked body, and I cringe as I feel his hands on my bare skin before he lays me on the bed.

“Now that you’re clean, let’s get you into some fresh clothes. I still have some of your old ones,” he says as he begins rifling through that duffel bag he brought.

A white blouse and skirt in hand, he turns and sets the clothes beside me as his eyes roam over my body. I attempt to cover myself, but it doesn’t work. Moving to the dresser, he rifles through one of the drawers before pulling out a knife. My eyes watch him carefully as he steps beside me, slicing the rope free between my hands and legs.

Instinctively, I stretch my limbs, the skin worn and raw from the rope. Corwin’s eyes trace over my breasts, falling down to my legs before forcing them apart. He stares at me with pure lust, and fear clenches inside me. When his hand comes up, presumably to touch me, I fight.

Kicking him in the side of the head, I attempt to scramble off the bed, ignoring my screaming ribs as I scoot to the edge. I don’t make it far before he recovers, smacking me across the face. Again and again, slap after slap sends my head spinning before he crawls on top of me, his towel falling away as his limp shriveled cock flops onto my thigh. It’s fucking revolting, but I don’t have time to focus on it before his hands wrap around my throat.

He's choking me hard, shaking me as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Stop fucking fighting me, Giselle! Just fucking stop!”

I gag and choke as I attempt to breathe, and he squeezes harder. My fingers dig into his hand, attempting to claw myself free when he winds back his hand for a slap so hard it forces me to see stars. Blinking hard, I shake my head as Corwin releases my throat, cupping my face tenderly.

“My love, are you okay?” he asks. “I’m so sorry. You just…you can’t run. It’s not safe, okay?”

I look at him in revulsion, but don’t say anything as he nods to himself, like my silence is compliance. What a mistake that will be for him.

“Come on, lay down,” he says as he lays on top of me, pinning me into place. My ribs scream as I attempt to shift beneath him, but he only bears more weight down on top of me.

“What about my clothes?” I wheeze.

“We don’t need clothes between us. Rest, my love,” he says as he nuzzles into me, the sound of his heavy sleeping breaths coming faster than I’d anticipated.

I try to move slowly, but I can’t budge an inch. The pain inside me is so overwhelming, I’m ready to vomit all over again. My body begins to shake in fear, and Corwin seems to subconsciously press more weight down on me in response.

I don’t know how many hours I lay there. Too many to know for sure. Each attempt at moving him off me is met with defeat, and I can’t help but sob. I feel my eyes grow heavy despite my best efforts to stay alert. I know the drugs are still in my system, though. I know that it’s partially out of my control, and before I can stop myself, my body shuts down, and I fall asleep.

Movement shakes me from my sleep. It’s slight, but the motion jars my ribs, forcing a whimper out of me.

“Oh yeah,” Corwin moans. “Wiggle on me, Giselle.”

My eyes fly open to find Corwin grinding his semi-hard cock against my bare thigh.

“Stop it!” I snap, shoving my hands at his shoulder.

God, he’s an overweight piece of shit.

An evil smile transforms his face as he looks at me.

“Oh, you want to play? Let’s play.”

His hand lifts up, cupping my breast before he pinches my nipple hard. I scream out in pain, and he pinches even harder. I swear I’m about to bleed. My screams echo through the house, and Corwin groans in pleasure.

“Good girl. Scream for me like a little slut. I know you like it rough. I’ve watched you get fucked by them nice and hard. You want it hard? I’ll give it to you,” he says as he uses his other hand to slip between my thighs.

My legs thrash, and I power through the pain radiating across my body as I use everything at my disposal. I buck and smack and kick and bite, but he thinks it’s a game. He’s getting off on it.

“Oh God, you’re a wild one,” he says as he attempts to subdue me.

I get a punch in, straight to the nose that sends his pleasured smile fading, anger replacing it as he punches me back. I see stars, and I feel blood begin to drip down my face as his fists drive into the side of my head and my stomach. It’s nothing but hot flashes of pain over and over again.

I’m in a daze, trying to get my bearings, when I feel his fingers shove inside me. His nails are long and jagged, cutting into me as he painfully shoves his fingers in and out of me.

“STOP! NO!” I scream, picking up my efforts.

I feel tears pouring down my face as I fight against him. He shushes my screaming, flattening his tongue as he licks at the trail of tears down my face.

“Your tears taste so fucking good,” he moans. “Not as good as the rest of you, though,” he says, pulling his fingers from me, sucking on them as he moans.

I take the opportunity to knee him in the dick. He gasps in pain, rolling onto his back, and I tuck and roll, falling to my face as I land on the ground with a hard thud. The wind is knocked out of me as another sharp crack echoes inside my body. There goes another rib.

Army crawling the best I can without putting too much pressure on my stomach, I make my way around the front of the bed. The door is so close I can almost taste it, but a hand buries into my hair, yanking me backward.

“No, no, no!” I scream as my nails dig into the carpet, like that will be my saving grace. His arm wraps beneath my battered torso, forcing me onto my knees before I feel the head of his tiny cock line up against me.

His other hand is still in my hair before moving to my neck, forcing my face into the ground as he pushes his knees onto the back of my legs, effectively pinning me in place.

“Hold that cunt still,” he grits through clenched teeth.

Another tear rolls down my face, this one solidifying my fate. I close my eyes as I begin to visualize a place, any place. Somewhere that I can go disassociate until this nightmare is over. Or I’m dead. I’d prefer either at this point.

A thunderous boom rattles the walls of the room as I force my eyes to look towards the doorway.

Vincent.

His gaze takes in the room before him, fully assessing the situation before his eyes go pitch black. What a sight it is, I’m sure. Me, naked and pinned to the carpet, my professor turned stalker also naked, ready to destroy me the way only the most depraved human could.

“Vincent,” I whisper raggedly.

He doesn’t hear me, though, or he doesn’t react. Instead, he practically jumps across the room, tackling Corwin off me as he pins him to the ground and begins pummeling him into the ground.

In the next moment, Ronan and Wesley are rushing into the room, followed by Asher and then Liam hobbling as fast as he can with his boot.

“Baby!” Ronan yells as he drops to my side, eyes scanning over me as Wesley does the same on my other side. A wave of relief rushes over me when I look at them. If I wasn’t in such a state of shock, I could fucking cry.

Wesley’s dark blue eyes are filled with so much panic, so much pain it’s like I can feel it inside my chest.

“I’m so sorry, little one. I—”

“Not now,” Ronan snaps as he wraps me into his arms.

I want to tell him how much pain I’m in, but at the same time, I never want him to let me go. I didn't realize until now that I’m shaking, uncontrollably so. My eyes peer behind us to see Vincent still on top of Corwin, his face practically raw hamburger meat at this point. That doesn’t stop Asher from joining in. His steel-toed boots deliver kick after kick to his stomach, forcing screams and groans to escape him. Blood and teeth spray and scatter across the beige carpet, but neither of them look close to stopping.

Liam’s eyes frantically scan the room before landing on me. They zone in on my face. With all the blows to my cheeks and nose, I’m sure I look like I’ve been through hell.

“Did he touch you?” Ronan asks, pulling me away from him so he can look at me.

My stomach curls at the reminder of his hands on me. Vincent and Asher pause in their assault for a moment, all eyes on me when I give a shaky nod. Fury ignites in all their eyes, but it’s Liam that makes the first move.

He reaches for the lamp on the side table, yanking it straight out of the wall before holding it above his head.

“Burn in hell,” he grumbles before bringing it down with such force Corwin’s head makes a sickening splat sound.

I cringe at that, looking away from the gore as Ronan tucks me into his chest again.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you,” he says as he goes to stand, attempting to pick me up with him.

I wheeze as my body tenses in pain, and he freezes, setting me back down.

“What’s wrong?” Ronan asks.

“Where are you hurt?” Wesley asks before Vincent steps in, shoving Wesley back several feet.

“Get the fuck away from her! Where are you hurt, Siren?”

I look into his eyes, the blood lust and rage slowly receding, leaving only concern in their wake.

“M-my ribs,” I stutter. “I th-think they’re broken.”

His jaw tenses, and he blows out a harsh breath through his nose before nodding once. Vincent pushes Ronan away, forcing him to release his hold on me, which, surprisingly, he does.

Slowly, Vincent wraps his arms around the back of my legs and my upper back, being careful not to jostle me too much as he lifts me up and moves me out of the room. My eyes land on the bed, my mother’s clothes still there, and I panic.

“Wait! The clothes, the clothes! I need them!” I rush.

Asher moves over to the bed, scooping them up as I point to the duffle bag.

“Th-he bag, too!”

He grabs the bag as well, closing the distance between us before resting his forehead against mine. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. Everything that could be said is felt in this moment. Liam steps beside me, his fingers gently touching my hand. I startle at the contact, my head whipping around frantically; why, I’m not sure.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe,” Liam croons softly.

I inhale a shaky breath before I blow one out. My eyes go from Liam to Asher to Vincent and Ronan, then finally Wesley. All wearing broken-hearted expressions that vary between them all.

“Take me home, please?” I ask the room.

“We’ve got you, Siren. We’ve got you.”