Force You Down

Chapter Eight

Jacklyn

My head pounding, I slowly peel my eyes open, squinting at the dim light in the room. I try to lift my head up, slightly successful as I peer around the room.

I'm on a stiff cot, and my wrists and ankles are zip-tied down. You've got to be shitting me.

The room is fifty shades of grey and is barren. I lay my head back down, my eyes searching the ceilings. In the corner above the door, there's a black camera with a blinking red light. Twisting my right wrist around, I flip the camera off, fifty percent sure someone was watching me. They could suck my foot for all I care.

My nose was throbbing, but not as badly as my cheekbone. What the hell?

And then it all came back. I was sexually assaulted by Johnny, one of Mike's men. Johnny was killed by Mike.

Tears began to roll down my face as the scenes of the memory repeat over and over again in my mind. My worst fear came true yesterday.

I just want to go home, without feeling paranoid that I was going to be taken away.

Now I have been.

I was busy silently crying over the trauma from yesterday when the door opens squeakily, heels clicking against the floor and echoing off the walls. Lips quivering and tears still flowing, I lift my head to see Mike approaching me with a confused look on his face.

"You did this!" I croak, my throat raw and sore. "You took me away! You put Johnny in the back with me where he sexually assaulted me! You might as well done it yourself. This is all your fault!" I look away, not being able to look at his stupid face anymore. Sobs rack my body, and I hated that I look so weak in front of the person who did this to me.

"Jacklyn," He murmurs, and I realize that was the first time he's ever said my name to me. Thank God, because I'm tired of all the disgusting pet names. "I didn't mean for that to happen. And I would never, ever take sexually take advantage of you." I close my eyes, the action squeezing more tears out.

I shook my head. "I don't care. You probably will anyways. Just let me go home." I look up at him with sad eyes. "Please." My voice is only a whisper. A pathetic whisper.

He purses his lips and sits on the bed beside me, where I try to wiggle away from him. It doesn't work.

"You know I can't do that." His voice is gravelly, and I swear I'm crying the entire Pacific Ocean right now.

"Please. You can take me back, I won't ever tell anyone who you are. I'll pretend I didn't watch you kill two people. Anything. Please." I'm begging in between sobs, and with every suggestion he continues to shake his head no.

"I can't let you go." He says softly, his long fingers trailing down my wet cheek. I jerk my head away. I need to come up with a better plan. Crying isn't gonna wiggle me out of this one.

"You disgust me. Stop touching me!" I demand in a clear, monotone voice. My throat felt raw and swollen. He moves his trailing fingers from my cheek to my chin, gripping tightly, forcing my head towards him.

"Remember who's in charge, sweetheart. You're mine now, and you will respect and obey me." He says through gritted teeth. I think through my next actions.

I've already played the tearful submissive and weak role. Now I become a hard ass? Act as a burden to him so maybe he'll release me?

Fuck it. Might as well.

"Fuck. You." I spit out, and he throws my face away as if I disgust him. The feeling is reciprocated, asshole.

"Lets see how you do for couple days without food and water. Maybe then you'll learn who's in control baby." He scoffs with his back turned to me, and he slams the metal door behind him. I curse out loud. We'll see about that.