Vanessa
I lay on the ground, numb and hollow, as Nathan takes from me for the third time today. Each assault leaves me too weak to resist. The first time he violated me, I bit his tongue as he forced it into my mouth, but the pain only fueled his aggression, making his next attacks even more brutal.
The desire to end my life consumes me. I'm certain that a part of me has already died here, anyway. I feel so used; so contaminated. I keep thinking that just before we rushed back to save Alicia, Diego got rid of my birth control pills. What if Nathan ends up getting me pregnant? It's not like the disgusting creep has used condoms or even attempted to pull out.
It's his sick way of marking me. You know, anything to make his mother happy.
With his hot, harsh breath in my ear, he empties himself inside of me, his weight pressing down on me for what feels like an eternity until his breathing returns to normal.
Please kill me already, I silently plead.
All the hope I felt is gone, replaced by terror and helplessness. At this point, I'm not even sure Nathan plans to reveal our location to Diego. He's too busy taking what will never belong to him.
"Such a good little pet letting me tear you apart with my cock," Nathan croons, his voice dripping with vile satisfaction as his lips crush against mine. He doesn't care if I don't reciprocate the kiss or respond. He simply stands up and zips up his pants. I hear the familiar rustle of a plastic bag being placed beside me, filled with ointment, food and water.
Nathan chuckles mockingly. "Mama said you couldn't be trained, but I knew you would do it to survive," he sneers, "I see why Diego was so quick to marry you, that pussy is so hot and tight. I can't wait to feel it again."
The depraved lust in his voice sends fear and revulsion slithering through my body.
"Before I leave, I also have another gift for you. You know, for being a filthy slut and cheating on your husband with me."
Is that what Diego will think? That I willingly cheated on him?
The stomach twists with nausea at the thought.
A yellow folder lands beside me with a hollow thud. As Nathan exits, the door slamming shut behind him, I slowly sit up, every muscle aching with exhaustion and pain. After Nathan convinced himself that I willingly submitted to him, he asked Celeste to stop torturing me. Giving into her grown man baby, I was now only restrained by my ankle to the floor. At least, now I can kind of move around freely. All I had to do was sacrifice my dignity and my soul.
My hands shake as I pick up the folder and open its contents, prompting a gasp to escape my lips. Inside are pictures of a woman, stripped bare and chained to a filthy mattress, in some kind of underground chamber or something. Years of torment are evident in the lines of her face, but it's unmistakable.
This is my mother.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nathan returns later, ready to violate me some more. Ever since he gave me these photos of my mother, I've been unable to take my eyes off of them. The realization that she's alive, trapped in the hell of sex trafficking, chills me to the fucking bone. All this time, I thought she was dead, and Dad knew the truth.
Of course he did. He must've been the one who sold her.
How stupid I've been, carrying around that urn of nothing but fucking dirt or whatever was in there. All I know is that Mom's been suffering all this time, most likely wishing she was dead like I am now.
Nathan settles into a metal chair across from me, his dark gaze fixed on me, sending chills down my spine. "W-Why did you give these to me?" I manage to stammer, still clutching the folder tightly in my lap.
He tilts his head slightly, as if pondering my question with a disturbing sense of detachment. "Because how can we establish a relationship with secrets between us?" he replies, his eyes raking over my exposed body.
"Relationship?" I ask incredulously.
"Trust me, Princesa," he continues, his voice eerily calm. "You're better off with me. I'm not a man that's going to lie and keep you in the dark."
Yeah, just torture and rape me.
He reaches down and grabs the heart pendant of my collar. "Diego knew about your mother. I guess he was just never going to tell you." A malicious grin twists underneath his mustache as his hand slowly trails down my neck towards my breasts.
I flinch away from him, my heart pounding in my ears as panic clenches my chest. "What are you talking about?" I whisper.
"He knew, Vanessa," he repeats. Taking the folder from my shaky hands, he points to a man in a black suit in one of the photos. "This is Gabriel. The man runs a huge sex trafficking ring from Mexico to all parts of the US. He only works with big business men, which included your father at the time. Eight years ago, your father gambled at one of his casinos in LA and lost your poor mother. He joined Diego's clan in order to steal from him. Then, a few months ago, he paid five million dollars to buy her back, and he was murdered before he could retrieve her."
My mind races as I struggle to piece together what he's saying.
"Now you may be a little young and mindless cumslut, but you can figure it out for yourself," he continues, watching my reaction carefully. "There was no way in hell someone like Diego wouldn't trace where his stolen money disappeared to. And if I could easily find this information, so could he. He purposely kept it from you. His own wife."
No. He's lying. Diego wouldn't do that!
And then the realization strikes me like a bullet to the heart, stealing the breath from my lungs. That day on our honeymoon when he randomly asked about my mom...when he offered to put Mom's ashes in a bracelet...he must have known. He must have known all along.
And he kept it from me.
"W-Why would he do that?" I choke out.
Nathan shrugs. "Perhaps he didn't want you to be angry that he's the one who prevented you from seeing your mother again. But if you ask me, he doesn't give a damn about you, Princesa."
He passes me a photo from his pocket. I immediately recognize the back of Diego's head, and sitting across from him is a man in a suit with short, blonde hair. Glancing back up at Nathan, I furrow my brows in confusion.
"Currently, your husband is meeting up with the Russian mafia for a business deal, knowing that his wife has been kidnapped. See, I guess with you out of the way, there's no longer bad blood between them." His cruel laugh echoes through the room. "When you told him to let you go, he just said fuck it."
A lump forms in my throat as I stare at the picture again. "You know my brother, business comes first. But don't be sad, I'll make sure to pass the message along that I'll be taking good care of you."
Diego isn't that heartless, right? I know I told him to let me go, but I didn't really expect him to just move on with his life knowing I'm being assaulted and tortured. Does he not love me at all? Was it Stockholm syndrome that convinced me that I was more to him than simply something that could be claimed and conquered?
And now I'm forgotten.
Like a lost, broken toy.
The shards of my shattered heart pierce me with a searing pain, each fragment a reminder of Diego's betrayal that cuts deeper than any physical wound.
I meant nothing to him.
But instead of tears, I feel a surge of raw, unbridled rage that swallows any other emotion.
They're all the same. Heartless monsters. Monsters that lie, kill, and take whatever they fucking desire without an ounce of regret like they rule the whole goddamn world.
And sadly, they do.
At least...Diego ruled my world. He became everything to me. He stole my heart, my innocence, and then he molded me into a criminal like him.
I killed for him. I allowed him to drag me into his darkness. I allowed him to condemn me to hell just so in the end, we would always be together.
And he betrayed me.
My body practically vibrates with rage, which seems to fuel Nathan's excitement. From the lust in his eyes, I can tell what's about to happen. And I'm two seconds from begging him to just choke the life out of me this time.
That's until I suddenly notice the gun on his hip.