Olivia's Strange Week

Torture

I'm sitting on my sofa, nervous, staring out into the balcony to see if night has fallen yet. It hasn't. It probably won't be night for at least a few more hours. Meanwhile, I'm here, alone, gorging myself with food more out of stress than hunger. Emily has gone out, that's a stark difference between us two. While I decided to stay here and wallow in my own anxiety, she felt trapped, useless, with too much energy itching to escape, and so she decided to put it to good use. Now she's traveling around the city, checking whether the girls Belinda has taken have returned. None as of yet, and that worries me.

There's certainly a possibility that she's just thinking it over, or enjoying her last moments with those slaves before letting them all go. But something tells me that's not the case. What Emily said last night, about not giving one's opponents the time to react, the time to plan, in hindsight it seems like the absolute truth. I shouldn't have given her so much time, I should've made the deadline be yesterday. But it's too late for regrets now. The only thing I can do is wait, and post Belinda's video, if necessary.

My belly gurgles, full of digesting food. It's been a while since I last ate this much. "Bwooorp," I let out a short belch that relieves the pressure in my stomach. The release of gas upsets my stomach further, and I burp again. "uUUURpp."

The relief I feel is not nearly enough to calm the anxiety still gnawing in the back of my head. I may have made the plan that gave us this advantage, but right now, I feel like a useless idiot.

My phone rings, it makes me jump. Thankfully, this time it falls on the sofa and stays there. I pick it up and turn it over. It's mom.

I answer.

"Hello, mom, how are you do-?"

"Hello, sweetheart!" the voice that interrupts me makes me freeze. Every worry, every bad feeling I'd gotten in the past twelve hours doesn't begin to compare to the dread that fills me now. Why was she the one to answer? What did she do to my mom?

"Belinda?"

"The one and only."

"Where's my mom!?"

"Your mom...?" she speaks with a confused tone like she has no idea what I'm talking about. "Oh, you mean Jessica?"

"Yes, I fucking mean Jessica, where is she?"

"She's here with me, sweetheart. We're spending good quality time together. We've grown very close in the last few hours."

"Belinda, I swear-"

"Don't make threats Olivia, your cute voice doesn't work for that!"

"What did you do to my mother?" I bark.

"Me?" she sounds almost offended as she asks the question. "I didn't do much to her, sweetheart. But god did she do things to me. This woman is hungry! I suppose that's what happens after fifteen years without her husband's cock."

I was prepared to spit out another answer, but the mention of my father throws me off completely. This is what she wants. To confuse me, to poke at weak spots until I break. I won't allow it.

"You know this means no deal, right?" I ask, eager to change the topic. "That video is going public, your life is ruined."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so hasty, sweetheart." Something in her mocking tone bothers me greatly. "Come here," she tells me, "to Carmiña Bed & Breakfast, room twelve, second floor. I don't need to say that Emily can't come with you. I know she isn't in your apartment right now, so you can easily sneak here without her following."

My skin fills with goosebumps as I realize she is still spying on us, stalking us. But that doesn't matter. I have to sound brave, unafraid. If she notices any weakness, I'm done for. "What makes you think I'll walk into such an obvious trap?"