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This book contains mature themes, explicit language, and scenes of a sexual nature intended for adult audiences only. It is rated R and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
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This book also includes depictions o...
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Solange Knowles Unknown
December 2
I walked into the dark, empty warehouse, the sound of my heels echoing against the cold concrete floor. Each step felt heavy, like the weight of everything I'd been carrying for years was crashing down with every click.
There he was-tied to the chair, wrists bound, and tape covering his mouth. His eyes met mine.
I pulled out a blunt, lit it, and took a long drag. The smell, the taste-it hit me like a memory.
"You remember my first time?" I asked, my voice low and steady, though every word felt like a weight. "I do."
He stared at me, his eyes dark, but there was no defiance. Not anymore.
"I remember how it tasted," I continued, taking another drag and blowing the smoke in his direction. "Bitter. Harsh. It burned my throat so bad, I couldn't stop coughing. And you? You just laughed. Told me I'd get used to it."
"But I didn't get used to it, not at first. I hated it," I said, my voice tightening slightly. "The taste, the smell, the way it made me feel. It didn't just make me high-it made me forget. And maybe that's why I kept going back. Because every time I smoked, every time I drank with you, I could disappear from everything that hurt."
I took another drag, my hand trembling slightly as I held the blunt up. "You always made sure I had just enough to make me feel numb, didn't you? Just enough to keep me coming back."
He shifted in the chair, but he didn't look away.
"It wasn't just weed after that," I said, my voice quieter now, but harder. "Then it was alcohol. Pills. You kept pushing, and I was too fucking stupid to see it. I thought... I thought it made me special. Made me grown."
I blinked, feeling another tear slide down my cheek, but I didn't wipe it away this time. "I never told my sister. Because if she knew, it would break her."
I leaned forward, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I remember it all. Every single time. And now, Michael, you're going to listen to me, and do what I say"
I took another long drag from the blunt, staring him down, the weight of the years pressing down on me, and yet, I felt lighter in this moment.
"You know," I said, my voice quiet but firm, "I told my sister I killed you. She thinks you're already gone."
His eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, the tape keeping him from saying a damn thing.
I chuckled darkly, the bitterness in my voice undeniable. "But I didn't tell her that I've kept you hostage all these years. Torturing you, making sure you felt everything I went through... I knew if I told her the truth, she would've stopped me."
