The Lost Roses

Chapter Four

When I wake I don't know how long I've slept. Accept that it must be morning because there's some light shining through the window. I'm confused by that fact for only a moment. Realizing I'm in his room, I sit up wondering why I'm still in here.  Then I realize he's sitting in a chair in the corner watching me. Shit. All I can do is stare back. He looks none too pleased that I am in his bed. Or in his room. He stands up and walks towards me.
"Well are you going to say anything. Or are you just going to continue to sit there. Imagine my surprise when I went to bring you dinner and I realized you weren't in your room? Of course I noticed the door to my room was open and went it. At first I didn't even see you in the bed. I thought you were in the bathroom since the light was on. But all I found was a wet towel and your dirty clothes.  Then I noticed my dresser had been gone through. Of course then it made sense why your other clothes were in the bathroom. Though I was still puzzled as to where you went. Well until you moved and cried out in your sleep.  Then, I knew. My first instinct was to yank you out of my bed and make you clean up the mess. But then I kind of liked seeing you sleep in my bed.  And thought I could get used to that. Of course I wont be sitting over here the next time you wake. I'll be laying right next to you. Now. Tell me what made you think you could come into my room, take a shower in my bathroom using my things, wear my clothes, and sleep in my bed?"
The first thing I manage to blurt is "you wear panties?"  I regret saying it immediately. Of course that doesn't stop him from walking over and slapping me. He grits his teeth as he speaks.
"Answer my question. Or it will be more than a slap the next time." So I tell him.
"I was curious after you said I was connected to your room. So I went in. And I went into the bathroom and my first thought was 'god I look ugly'. I'm covered in bruises and I was covered in dirt and blood and I don't know what else.  I just wanted to be clean. And I knew you'd punish me either way. So I thought I might as well make it worth the beating. I didn't want to put back on my dirty things so I found some clean ones. And then I waited a while for you to come find me. And promptly beat me. But you didn't. And then I got tired. And the floor and beds in the basement weren't very comfortable and your bed was and I fell asleep. I'll go back in the other room. That way you don't have to worry about ruining anything in here from the blood." As I slide off the bed he's right there in front of me. Of course the stupid shirt hikes up and before I can pull it down his hands are on my hips holding me against him and the bed. He presses his hard length against me again. I turn my head away from him. I was expecting a beating. Not this. And of course I put myself in the perfect place for it. God I don't know what I'll do if this continues. He yanks me up and back over the edge of the bed taking my underwear off at the same time. I close my eyes and try to pretend it's someone else. That I'm not here right now. And then I remember something I saw on t.v. once. Playing along and doing exactly what they want takes some of the fun away. They want you to scream and cry and fight back. So what if I don't? After being here for so long.  Why fight anymore? I think I've fought enough. So I don't fight him. I let him have his way. I don't cry either. I let him fuck me until he's satisfied and his pants die down. When he finishes he says,
"That wasn't so bad now was it." I don't say anything. He gives me back my underwear and walks out of the room. I'm sure locking it behind him. Of course by habit I go to check and see if he actually did and surprisingly, its not locked. Not sure if it's a trap or not I shut the door back and go back to the bed. I crawl to the center and soon fall asleep trying to ignore the ache between my legs. The next time I awake its because he's calling my name. Apparently he's brought food. It smells great but given past events, I don't trust the food.
"You need to eat. To keep up your strength. Because we will be doing that quite frequently." He pulls a take away box out of a paper bag. He opens it and places it in front of me with a fork. It has hash browns and cheese and eggs and bacon and something green. Even though I'd love to eat it I don't trust him.
"Its not poisoned. You've done nothing for me to punish you that severely. It's not drugged either. I don't need any drug to make you willing."  I finally take a bite when he looks like he's about to hit me. They're peppers. Jalapenos specifically. I start crying and push the food away.
"Why are you being so nice? Why haven't you punished me anymore?"
"I haven't punished you at all. The sex was not a punishment." Then he almost looks sorry for a moment. Then he says, "Your parents are dead." And walks away. I sob uncontrollably. Why? What happened? Did he kill them? More than likely. But why? Why did he kill them? I fling the container across the room spraying food everywhere. I keep the fork though. He killed my parents. Fine. He'll lose me too. I take the fork and start digging it into my wrist and dragging it up my arm. I keep going until I realize he probably has a razor or some sharp thing in his bathroom.  I find a loose razor blade and go back to my place on the bed. Might as well make a mess and be comfortable. I take the blade and slice into my skin dragging it upward. It hurts. But I know when the pain fades he'll be gone. And I'll be at peace. I do the same with my other arm and lay down. Watching my blood drip to floor. He's going to be so pissed when he finds me. And this mess. I laugh at the thought. And just as I'm fading into black I see him. But I know he's too late. I close my eyes and the world disappears. I float in the darkness for quite some time. Wondering why I'm there. I don't remember anything from before. Or if there even was a before. Just this peaceful floating blackness. I don't know what to do. I just float. My mind a blank. I suddenly see a light far off in the distance. I try floating myself off to it. I reach it and get hit with this burning white light that seeps into every pore in my body. I can feel it deep in my bones. I close my eyes fully taking in the light. When I open them again I'm in a room. And I can smell some strong, burning antiseptic. I can barely move. Or even remember what happened. Just that floating black nothing. And the bright white that followed. I try moving my head and realize I must be too drugged to even attempt too. I can open my mouth. I manage to croak out a hello. When no one answers I realize I must be alone. I try to say it louder. And then louder again. I finally hear a door open. I still can't manage to sit up. The bed suddenly moves and makes me sit up. I feel like I'm going to throw up when I do move. I see a bucket next to me and heave into it. I throw up until it hurts to continue. Then I look in front of me. And it all comes flooding back. I was kidnapped. And beaten and tortured. My parents died. And then I did. Or at least I thought I had. He sees my confusion and begins to explain. 
"Your little stunt damn near killed you. I know that was you goal. And it did kill you at one point. I had to inject you with adrenaline.  You lost a lot of blood. And due to your poor health,  losing even a very small amount of blood is too much for you. You're gonna feel like crap for a few days. Between the morphine and you dying your body is in bad shape. I suggest you eat when I tell you to." He gets up from the chair. "And another thing, the next time you want to try to kill yourself, don't make such a mess. Those were nice sheets you ruined."
I manage to push out a "why".  He begins to talk about the sheets and I say,
"No, why save me?"
"I don't want you dead just yet." And he leaves the room. Of course. The only way I'm going to die is when he says I can. I vowed at that moment to do what he wants, when he wants, without a fight or a tear. I'll play along. I'll pretend to be happy with him. And when he least expects it, I will escape. And he'll be lucky if I don't kill him. I look around and realize I'm in his room still. The bedding has been changed and the floor scrubbed. Then I realize once again I'm not in his bed at all. His has been pushed against the wall to make more room for this bed. I see I'm connected to a drip. The morphine I'm assuming. I take it out and let it all drip into the bucket.  I don't want or need to be drugged. I look at my arms and see that they're covered in gauze. Some blood showing through in places. When he returns he has food. The same as before. Hash Browns, eggs, bacon, cheese, and jalapenos. He sits it on my lap.
"Do not throw the food this time. Because if you do, you just won't eat. Or I'll shove a tube down your throat." I pick up the fork and eat all of it. I close the box leaving the fork inside he asks. "Are you satisfied?" I nod, too scared to speak. He hands me a cup full orange juice. I hand it back, shaking my head. "What you don't like Orange juice?" I shake my head again. He leaves and comes back with another glass. This one with milk. I drink it and hand it back to him. He takes it away.  When he comes back I'm staring at the ceiling wondering what I did to deserve this. "Do you want to lay down?" I nod.  Surprisingly he picks me up and carries me back to his bed. "Why did you take the drip out?"
"I don't want to be drugged." He pulls the blanket over me before grabbing some things out of his dresser and going into the bathroom. I lay there a while listening to the running water. Eventually drifting to sleep. When I wake up some time later he's laying next to me. Asleep I think. As if he feels me staring at him he looks over.
"What?" I just turn away from him, wiggle to the edge of the bed, and try to sleep. He grabs me around the waist and drags me to him. Once he has me flush against him, he starts rubbing himself against me. I can feel him growing ever harder, straining against his boxers. I try to turn onto my back hoping he'll stop but apparently that gave him an invitation to climb on top of me and remove my underwear. He again does as he pleases with me. He fucks me again and again. It wouldn't be so bad if my body wasn't betraying me and giving in to the pleasure. I could see how Ashley could become so delusional. When he's satisfied he lays back down and pulls me close to him again. Breaking my vow to myself I cry. The same went on for quite some time. Him making me eat. Learning what I do and don't like. Me showering and using the bathroom as I please. Him cleaning and bandaging my cuts. And him taking me whenever he chose. Eventually I stopped crying when it happened. And slowly but surely I began to play his game like I said I would. Now I just do whatever he wants. When he wants. And I pretend to be okay. I don't question him. And I don't know very much about him. I just know he likes to be in control. It's only been a few weeks. But I already don't mind this. I understand Ashley now. When he's up here with me. He's not down there with them. I feel like crap. I get to choose what I want to eat and how frequently for the most part. They don't. I get to shower and walk around the house when Lucas is home. They're confined to that basement. He treats me like a pet. A treasured pet. He treats me like I remember treating my cat at home. Like she was a little princess. Of course I never hit her or starved her or raped her. I did let her do as she so pleased. And I watched her a lot. As does he. Every time I look up I can count on him watching me from somewhere. And he won't give me real clothes. Just a t-shirt and underwear. Same as before. I don't understand what any of us did to deserve this. Were we bad people in a past life? Because I don't think innocent souls would be damned to an existence like this. No, it's not that bad anymore. He doesn't feel the need to beat me as much. I'm not with the group so it doesn't matter. He beats one to teach the rest. If I'm alone there's no one else to teach. There are no clocks anywhere. Thankfully there are windows. But I'm not allowed out so it doesn't matter. I don't think I ever will be.
"Hey Zoey!" What does he want now?
"Yes?" I ask finding him in the kitchen.
"What do you want for lunch?"
"I'm not really hungry."
"You barely ate anything at breakfast."
"I know. I'm just not hungry today."
"Fine. Go to your room." He means the plastic room. Great. He plans on beating me senseless. I sit there on the floor hating the plastic everywhere. Wishing blood would seep through to the beige carpet underneath. I know from experience however that it never will. After a while he comes in and chains me to the floor. He has the whip with him. It's become his favorite weapon with me.
"Five lashes for refusing to eat." I turn away from him and let him beat me. I barely feel it anymore. Only difference is this time he's holding back. The whip isn't biting into my flesh as much. Nor have all the welts split into deep gashes. He walks closer and sprays my back with something. First it burns like molten lava, then I feel nothing. I relax into that numbness and pass out. When I wake up my back is bandaged and I'm lying in bed. There's a bowl of spaghetti next to me with a note saying 'eat'. I eat the whole bowl and place it back on the table beside me. I lay back down careful not to lay on my back. At some point I fall asleep again because Lucas wakes me up changing my bandage.
"You're healing quite nicely this time. You won't scar. And I don't think you should get infected either. That's part of what caused the scarring before. Brace yourself." He sprays my back with the same stuff again. I grip the blankets around me until my fingers turn white and I feel like crying out. Then the sweet numbness returns and reality disappears. That continues for a while. A day. Maybe two, or three. I wake, I eat, I sleep, he sprays me, I sleep again. The cycle repeats. Eventually I'm completely healed and it doesn't matter. I don't scar. The beatings like this save the other girls. And I'm okay with it. They need all the help they can get.