Chapter 32

Intense ringing in my ear tugged at my state of unconsciousness. I made sense of a presence near me and as the ringing sound slowly washed out I could hear crackles of a cigarette being drawn in. The fiery heat splitting through paper like it was right next to my ear.

My head pounded violently, but yet again I was not given the satisfaction of moving my limbs. How long did this shit last? Where the fuck was I? I blinked, it was dimly lit and all I could see was a cherry red cigarette sparkling before me, followed by a pungent cloudy exhale. Heat stung my eyes and I coughed and gasped for a wad of fresh air. I soon felt the sensation of being sweaty, noticing the air was hot and thick. And my toes were tingling, why did they tingle? Was the drug wearing off?

I opened my eyes again, Damon was standing before me with his cigarette in the side of his mouth and a devilish grin that didn"t reach his eyes. I looked down to see that I was not only tied by rope to a fucking chair, but I was also chained and padlocked to the floorboard. I summoned all that I had and tried squirming, surprised that I managed to make a small movement against the taut ropes, but it didn"t come without the pounding at my head to worsen. The paralytic drug that I had in my system from Huxley must be wearing off. I wonder if I could speak?

I tried to go with let me out, but the rag around my mouth muffled my words. Though I didn"t need words, my facial expression was enough. What in the ever-loving fuck was I doing with Damon? An unsettling, devilish laugh broke from his mouth. Whatever intentions Damon had for me was utterly terrifying. Given the last time I saw him, he tried to mince my reproductive organ. My breath staggered, everything about him was more haunting than Huxley. I tried moving again and was able to tilt my head slightly, seeing that we were in a little cabin. A tiny, wooden cabin, and no windows. Only barely lit by a flickering candle or two on the floor in the corner. Panic continued to havoc in my veins, becoming more aware of my surroundings. It was terribly hot in here, too hot.

I trailed my thoughts into any, and all possible theories on where we might be and why he brought me here. Jealousy was my first suspicion, but this was far greater than petty sibling rivalry over a girl. Although, the last memory I had was seeing Damon closing me in the trunk and telling me I was his. Why? Come on, Esme. Think. What were the last threads of memory? I think I remember driving, but I couldn't be certain of how far the drive was. It could have been minutes, hours or days even, and knowing Damon… it would be the furthest away from anyone possible. And now I was here, wherever here was.

Great! I decided at that moment that I would rather take Huxley's promised death for me than be stuck here with Damon. I didn't think I could hate a person more, back to square one because of this fucking ass hat. I stared at him with a deathly glare, and he laughed again. I was slowly becoming more apparent with my body and everything that was happening to it, it wasn"t good. Nausea threatened to hurl from my mouth and the pain was thundering in with great force, most of it in my head. How long I had been held upside down was anyone"s guess.

I winced, and scrunched up my face, feeling the rag had stuck to my wound. My heart skipped a beat as Damon began to circle me, like a vulture. I could smell him as the air wafted, the masculine woody low tones of his cologne mixed with hate, revenge, whiskey, sweat and cigarette. He said nothing, did nothing, only circled me for long enough that I spun dizzy. The heat of the cabin was starting to coincide with my breath, giving the sensation of a slow suffocation. Fuck. I started slipping into heaviness again, and I closed my eyes.

Tsss. I screamed out from a sudden, sizzling blow of hot pain over a wound on my arm. I looked up, seeing that Damon had pressed the end of his cigarette into my skin. It pulled me entirely back into consciousness once more and tears to free from my eyes. Had I not been through enough? I wish I didn"t scream, because it made my brain hammer and the room to spin. What was happening to me? This felt like vertigo, and with a really intense headache. Damon crossed his arms and tensed. "Wake up." He hissed. The burn of his vindictive voice was just as sharp as the one he left on me. He was ropable. I observed him standing before me, his cold gaze was lifeless. Loveless. His lean yet masculine torso glistened from sweat in the candlelight, and his chest was expanding to his corrosive breath. If Damon wanted anymore reactions from me, he certainly wasn't going to get it, I had nothing left to give… even if he forced it from me. I had gone through too much. Too much.

He yanked the cloth that was over my mouth down and I whimpered from the pain, feeling as though parts of my skin tore right off with it. "Ah." I cried out, surprised that I could mutter out something more than a grumbled squeak or slur. A brutal grin pulled at his lips as he trailed his thumb over the resurfacing blood on my cheeks. I flinched to the torment. Yes, I can feel movement coming back.

I shifted to pull my head away and put all my energy into forming a sentence. "Get the fuck away from me." I hissed.

"Oh good, you can speak again. I simply can"t do any form of torture when my hostage is mute." He mocked. "What do you want, Damon?" I said. He furrowed his brow, curling his lip in disgust. "I want to play with my new toy, without limits or rules. Besides, we never finished where we left off. You just can"t die can you?"

And this time… I won't be able to hold back. I can't hold her back. Huxley"s voice echoed in my head. I had bigger problems than a debt with a void to deal with, I had a Damon to worry about. I should have known Huxley would never have gone through with it. He had killed so many people before… and yet when it finally got to me, he couldn"t. Sadness started to clock me, the void had said she would hail upon him a wrath he cannot survive for not offering me to her. A pain he cannot handle. Unease tore through my stomach, coinciding with bile. What did that mean for him? Would he suffer long?

I couldn"t help but agree with her in one sense, that she was right. And that frustrated me painfully. He was too weak, he couldn't. He wouldn't. But he would always try… and that was what made him a monster. This was part of him, whether he accepted it or not. Mask on, or mask off. He enjoyed hurting me. He enjoyed being like her.

I finally pulled my attention back to Damon, who was taking a little too much pleasure in staring at my naked body before him. I would have thought I would be used to this by now, but I wasn"t. Ugh. Revolt curled my lip at the memory of him forcing his body on mine, and his knife on my private area. I hated this fucker. Spit swarmed in my mouth somehow climbing over dehydration. I saw the opportunity and without hesitation, collected the liquid over my tongue and spat it at him. Well… it landed next to him. But it still counts, fucker. Take that!

He barely moved an inch, only leaning over slightly to glare at the bogey on the floor beside him, before turning his dark eyes to mine and arching a brow. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see that." He scoffed and trailed off, pacing back and forth in the cabin. He made the room spin but I held my own, somehow. "It seems my… brother, has some kind of obsession with you. He just can't fucking kill you." He snapped playfully and tutted.

"Oh, brother. If only we could go back to the way it was before he had that accident. Uncle Soren was kind enough to take us all in. One by one over the years. Little lost, helpless, and homeless boys." Damon paused to light up another cigarette and take a swig of whatever alcohol he had from a flask in his pocket. "Such a great life we had. Then your man decided to try and kill himself. That's when our lives changed."

My eyes followed him as he paced circles around me, popping in and out of my line of sight. "He"s not…" I tried to deny my relationship with Huxley but he cut me off, shushing me. "Shh, I"m speaking. As I was saying… he had become hungry for death, desperate to kill for his freedom. Then he got us involved. He made us fucking suffer through his bullshit, living a life we didn"t want, for him. So, eventually, we made a little corporation that worked for everyone. Do you know what we did?"

"No." I stuttered. "We find the girls, we fuck "em, and he kills "em." He sighed pleasurably. "We had it good. We got the babes, we didn"t even need to woo them. We got what we wanted anyway, regardless of what they said… mmm, so much pussy. But that wasn't even the best part." He leaned forward, blowing his cigarette smoke into my face again. I coughed but didn"t show emotion.

"I learned something about myself. I liked to hurt people. Torture innocent little lives for my enjoyment." Damon"s tone was etched with jealousy and rage. "What the fuck is your deal?" I snapped, the nausea really taking charge now.

He convulsed in laughter. "Mmm. Aren't you a little fire-breathing dragon? You never used to be. But you see, he has changed Esme. And I don't know if I can let that happen. I like to hunt for victims, I like to hurt people, I like to kill people, and I love fucking… dead people." He roared with a curled lip. A small hint of bile reached my mouth, and the acid stung the part of my cheek that ached.

Tears begun to stream, heavy and with no sign of stopping. Damon continued, though I almost didn"t hear him at first as the ringing in my ear was whistling again. "We let him fill his delusions while we got to have our fun. But… then it all went haywire because he actually found you. So, if he kills you, so dies the corporation and my addiction along with it." He laughed again, mockingly. I turned my cheek away, I couldn"t bear to look at him anymore. Dead people? Dead people? This was vile, putrid.

"I have that cunt to blame for my addiction. Six fucking years of his crap. Six fucking years of isolation and deranged behaviors. But once I got a taste for it I couldn't stop. So maybe, if I take away the problem, he will eventually forget you. And we can go back to the way it was. I"m sure someone else will fill his fantasies."

"You're a pig." I spat again, and he laughed. "Yes, I am. And now you"re mine. Little piggy."

I pursed my lips. "Fuck y-" I couldn't finish the rest of my scowl because his gun was at my chin before I had the chance. The cool metal planting on my skin sent my body into a shiver, an odd sensation given how hot I was. But I wasn"t giving in to him, no matter how much he scared me. Act… don"t react. My mind wandered a moment, thinking of the first time he had his gun on me, at the ball. I was certain that I wasn"t turned on now like I was then.

The metal had a unique smell to it. It was not a rusty scent, instead, it was like a wet steel kind of smell. I couldn"t put the words to describe the rest of the smells. The whites of my eyes grew larger as his thumb gently pressed the hammer of the weapon down, followed by the infamous sound of a bullet rotating in the chamber, and then clicking into a loaded position. Hair spiked from my body in an instant.

"I'm going to enjoy fucking the smart ass right out of that mouth. Fuck it until you foam. Fuck it until you can no longer breathe. And then I"ll throw you around like a Pitbull has found a stuffed toy to play with." He mocked in a predatory demeanor through his teeth, keeping his eyes on mine with a cocked brow. I trembled, feeling very sorry for myself and hopeless.

There was something different about a gun than there was a knife, like your life was less valuable… if that was possible. He began to trail it up closer to my mouth and forced my lips to part with a firm nudge. I followed his command because that was what you did when you had a gun pointed at you. You do as they say, right? I gulped as the barrel smoothed its way through my lips, wincing from the pain as my cheeks cracked open a little more to the pressure.

I cried out, feeling the heat of my breath steam over the metal and recirculate around my mouth. I didn"t want to give in to crying, I really didn"t, and not because this fucking jackass didn"t deserve my tears, but because I knew crying would make my head pound more than it already was. He held the gun in the void of my mouth and then teased the belt of his jeans with his other hand, inclining that he was going to pull himself from his pants. I thoughtlessly dropped my eyes, regretfully seeing that his pants were very taut… and throbbing. Fuck.

"You just can't help yourself, can you? Even with a gun in your mouth. You're fucking twisted." He threatened and pushed it further into my mouth, leaving me no choice but to whimper as my cheek stretched more. I shook my head slightly, as that was all I could. Damon pivoted the gun in the same direction as he pivoted his head. "Yes. So twisted. You're too fun to just… kill. That's all he wanted you for. You are worth nothing to him." An involuntary tear threatened to leave my eyes, but I argued against it.

A rogue grin turned his lips, making the dimples protrude. "Oh no…" He laughed, rolling his head back. "You like the son-of-a-bitch."

"No." I muffled, somehow making the word come out over the gaps between the weapon and my lips. Granted, that was a lie. A big fat one, and he knew it too. He could clearly see right through me. "No, you don't. You love him. And he loves you, doesn't he?" His tone was contemptuous like the word love was a sin.

"That's why he couldn't kill you. Pathetic." He pulled the gun from my mouth in a scoff. I licked at my broken flesh, tasting bloody instantly. It hurt, but it was nothing to my head. If only Caine were here. "Mhmm, mmm, mmmm. This changes things now. I think it will destroy him if I destroy you. What do you think?"

"He's already done that." I snarled, dropping my head to avoid eye contact again.

"Not as much as I can. Hurting him, and making him suffer will be a far better reward for me than fucking lifeless bodies."

Finally, that tear that I fought so hard to not let fall came crashing as I let that truth swarm me like bees in a hive. How could I have been so foolish? Damon was right, I was twisted. I was broken, faulty, and obviously very defective. Huxley had really fucked me up, physically, mentally, and emotionally. My body was covered from head to toe in old, and fresh wounds.

I had been drugged, drained of blood on more than one occasion, hung like a puppet, and chased through the woods. I had my virginity and dignity taken from me, my body exposed and humiliated, starved, chained, tortured, caged. I have had glass plunged through my feet… that I almost forgot about until now, because above all else, it was not the worst thing to of happened to me since all this began.

My chest tightened. I looked down at my legs that were tied to the chair, some of the surgical tape Caine dressed my wounds with was still on, but the rest had fallen off… or been ripped off by the rope. They were red, raised, bruised, and ugly to look at. I was ugly to look at. But at least the infection was gone, which only made me more frustrated because it was just another thing that stopped me from dying after being so close to being killed.

With each passing minute that went by, the more the drugs wore off. Becoming further apparent that I was in a very bad way. My face had started to feel tight and numb, as though I couldn"t move it… if only I knew I was. And it wasn"t because I was having a brain to body malfunction. Something bad was happening, but I didn"t know or understand what.

I had brief thoughts that maybe I was having a stroke, but I was only twenty-one, that wouldn"t be possible, or if it was very little chance of it happening. I had been sitting in the same position for at least twenty minutes, watching Damon as he paced the floor. Lighting cigarette after cigarette as if he were a chimney. I frowned, the feeling that he had just worked out his plan for me had just popped into his head.

I studied him a minute and he pulled out a phone from his pocket and then placed it onto the floor in the corner so that it was sitting horizontally. He tapped a button, bringing up the camera, and flipped it. I could see my feet, carnaged legs, belly, and whatever else was left of me… only just. Relying on one or two candles wasn"t going to cut it for a video.

"Say anything stupid and I'll put a bullet between your eyes. Got it?" He growled with one hundred percent honesty, flaring his nose. I nodded my submission straight away, knowing this fucker had a phone gave me a good dose of hope. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, it was really fucking hot in here. But adrenaline had spiked too high, there was no bowing to the darkness yet.

He grinned once more and tapped the record button before walking slowly around me like he was the main star of the show. Dreading his next move now that he had the incentive to piss someone off. I gasped as his knife met my neck, right under my chin where he held the gun. It was a little sharper than Huxley's and I remembered Damon"s knife like it were only yesterday… was it? The sick fuck.

Damon trailed the knife along the nape of my neck slowly as he positioned himself behind me, taking along a chunk of my hair with him. I sniveled, sniffing back the flow of tears. He groaned. "Now, I'm going to make sure that you, and every other cunt knows…. that I own you now." He whispered loudly in my ear before jolting upright and glaring into the camera.

"You hear that, brother? Your little bitch is mine now. And you wanna know something else?" He paused, shoving his knife straight into my thigh with everything he had, plowing it right into a wound that Huxley had already cut open. Fire-like heat and flames engulfed me, a hollow unknown noise was the first sound that came from somewhere very deep in my body. Finally reaching my throat, I screamed, hard and loud. I trembled and white static smacked my vision, uncharted territory. This pain was excruciating. "You will never find her." Damon added.

"Revenge on my brother is so much more fucking fun than fucking the rest of those helpless souls, living or dead. Claim their little ass holes, and penetrate them so fucking hard that their organs rearrange, and then wait just a few minutes after they die so I can fuck their still warm body, and then again when it"s stone cold. So why go to all that trouble, when I can do all of that with you for twice the glory? God I could cum right now just thinking about it." I gulped down the bile that had pooled in my mouth, and suddenly I began to heave.

Chunks of foam slivered from my mouth down my chin. I thought Huxley was sick, but Damon was a beast no human could compare to. I cried, hard. I prayed in my head for Huxley. But what if he couldn"t break free from the pillory? "Huxley! Please. Help me, please." I cried out for him and without warning, the knife was yanked from my thigh and swung across my face, splitting the skin along the arc of my cheekbone with the tip of the blade. I was seeing stars once more. My leg throbbed in the absence of an object and blood dribbled down it, with a sustained injury like this, there was not a single chance in hell I would be alive by the time someone found me. I trembled from the reality.

"Silly girl. What did I say?" He hissed, and then squatted before me.

"Do you have any idea how many times he has tried to kill you? He even gave you the opportunity to run, but…" He said, and I snapped my glare at him. How the fuck did he know about Huxley walking away from me at the lake? His grin was like I had just turned on the devil and given him ammo.

"Oh… you didn"t know I was there, did you? Watching. You are pathetic. The both of you are. You really just couldn"t stay away, could you… pet? You wanted his cock… right here, didn't you?" I shook my head not having the ability to offer much else. How fucking dare he use Huxley"s pet name on me? The very tang it left on my soul ruffled me.

"You weren't ever really scared of him. You like his darkness. You like what it does to you. And you see something in him that he buried years ago. You'd be happy to be buried to the sounds of his name. You like the pain he brings you. It all makes sense now." He muttered. "What does?" I whispered in a mere squeak. "You are his rain." Damon tutted before continuing "I've never had that. Because of him. Someone to claim for myself. Someone that would beg me for more, someone to, love."

"No one could ever love you Damon, you're an empty soul." I said. He grunted and rolled into another laugh. "So long as I have you, my brother is suffering. The same way he has made us suffer. And that gives me great pleasure."

Damon adjusted himself, and his dark eyes glared at me through his long brown lashes. His deep blue eyes pierced through my soul with no signs of life left. He was a jealous, homicidal psychopath. A dangerous combination. Damon pushed my knees apart and began to secure them with another thread of rope so that they were pried open, and non-closable. I winced again as his knife found the same area that he had tried to torment, my labia.

"What are you going to do?" I asked through my cries.

"I'm going to carve my initials into your skin silly, show him that you belong to me. And then I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fill this little cunt with my cum while he watches. I"m going to mark my territory."

I bellowed the most spine-chilling screams and wriggled against the ropes to my best ability, pushing through the pain and torment of my throbbing head as Damon began to slowly slide the knife over my pussy. He let out a wry cackle. "Hmm someone has already bet me to it…"

"Oh… right. Me."