Authors: Becca Moree
A woman was brought into the starter trailer today. They drug her unconscious body so ruthlessly through the trailer. She was caught trying to escape. They took her to a back room. I could hear her cries of pain. It sounded awful. I’m not sure what all they did to that poor girl back there, but they were covered in blood when they left the room. I’m scared for her, she needs a doctor, cowboy. I wish there was something I could do, but I can’t even protect myself.” She sounds so damn defeated. My heart aches for the innocence that was ripped from her by fucking Fred and the C.O.D.
Why in the hell didn’t I go to her? I was drawn to that damn trailer all fucking day but refused to let myself go there. I knew what would happen. I knew the odds were that Fred would hurt her pretty damn badly today. But usually he holds off on the other shit. Part of me understands why he didn’t. My Red is a very beautiful woman and pretty damn irresistible. Fuck, I hate that she went through this. I hate that I didn’t save her from this.
As my hands run slowly over her body, careful of her injuries, which I’m pretty sure she glossed over for my benefit, I wish more than anything that I could take away her pain. She gasps and I freeze. Shit, did I hurt her somehow?
“It’s…. gone. The pain. It’s all just gone. How did you do that? And what about reading my thoughts? Humans can’t do that! What the-”
I cut off her rambles with a quick kiss to her delectable lips. “Fuck if I know, babe, but I’m not going to knock it. I will take any glimpse I can get into that gorgeous head of yours. And as for the pain, I haven’t a clue on that one either, darlin’. All I know is that as my hands moved over your soft body, I just kept wishing that I could take your pain into myself. I’d gladly suffer for you. Somehow, I did.” Arching an eyebrow at her in a gentle yet forceful glare I chastise her silently. “By the way, wanna tell me why you downplayed what was wrong? Don’t ever lie to me about how hurt you are, Red.”
“I... I’m sorry, cowboy. I didn’t want to worry you anymore than you already were. I was okay, promise.”
“No matter, darlin’. Don’t do it again. I need to know-”
I’m ripped from the dream world by the sound of footsteps echoing through my trailer. Big, pissed off footsteps. Oh, holy fucking shit. He knows.
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I’m starting to think I’m losing it. The non-stop torture may have finally broken me. My mind feels sluggish and my thoughts are muddled. The blood running down my back almost tickles. I fight the odd urge to giggle. Who in their right mind giggles while being tortured if not a mad woman?
Blinking back tears I feel pressing against my eyes, I grit my teeth as the air rushes past my head blowing strands of my hair into my face. The whip makes full contact, criss-crossing wounds both old and new. My skin breaks open allowing more blood to dribble down my back. I force myself to swallow down the moan I feel rising in my throat. I won’t give them that. Fuck no, they have taken enough from me already.
Focusing my thoughts I struggle to hold in my cries of pain.
I will not cry out.
I will not scream.
I will not let my tears fall.
I will not show them my pain.
I refuse to give these bastards the satisfaction they get from my misery.
I repeat these thoughts over and over in the hopes that I can hold on to my quickly disappearing strength.
Eyes closed tight, I slow my breathing in an attempt to meditate through the torture. To go to my
. If I can just separate myself from my surroundings, I can make it through this one more time without breaking completely.
A small sigh escapes my lips as the beautiful field materializes bit by glorious bit. Purple flowers bloom like wildfire along the purest green hills. Their light aroma fills my nose giving me a sweet reprieve from the pungent smells that constantly surround me.
Just as a cool breeze gently ruffles my hair around my shoulders, a sudden sharp ache in my cheek drags me forcefully back to the unwelcome reality I was trying so hard to escape.
“Open ya damn eye girlie. I wanna see ‘em when I give you what ya gettin’.”
A rough hand grasps my chin so tight I hear my jaw pop and the pain almost knocks me out. He releases my face and shoves me back down. I grunt and glare up at my tormentor from my position on the dirt strewn floor.
The quick stinging slashes of the whip are almost my undoing. The pressure behind my eyes triples and finally releases without my consent. Wetness covers my cheeks, but no sound has broken past my lips. An evil chuckle fills the room as the unwanted tears fall freely down my face.
“That’s more like it.”
After what feels like an eternity, the whip is put away. I’m dragged by my hair into a windowless room the size of a closet. My back is blessedly numb. My face feels raw. My breathing ragged and painful.
“Maybe the rest of today and a night in here’ll teach ya who’s in charge girlie. Fred ain’t messin’ around with you anymore. While ya in there ya might wanna think ‘bout why ya in there. Learn something for once, ya stupid bitch.”
When the door closes and the lock clicks into place I’m engulfed in the most complete and utter darkness imaginable. This room is one of the worst forms of punishment. I would much rather the beatings, at least then I know what’s going on around me. In here, in this silence and blackness, the nightmares sneak up on me and there isn’t anything I can do to keep them at bay.
I smile to myself despite my fears. He has no clue how right he is. I will learn. I already have. But I’m not focusing on the lesson he intends. I’m focusing on how I got caught. I know where I messed up this time and I don’t plan to do it again. However, I will
stop trying to gain my freedom. Not just for myself but for all the others.
I’ve eavesdropped. I’ve snuck around. I know that there are many, many more like me and my new sisters. I will find a way to set us all free, one way or another I will watch my captors fall.
A fist slams into my side. I follow it and allow the impact without pause. Spinning away from the bastard, I bring my knee up and effortlessly knock the breath from its chest. My elbow connects solidly with its nose. I use the time gained by its stumble backward to draw my twin blades. The moment my blades make contact with the vile creatures neck I grin.
This, an only this, is what I should be doing. Screw the bleedin’ paperwork and meetings. I was made to fight the Fallen and protect the world. To lead my fellow warriors in battle. Not to be a fucking King that sits on his ass all day. If only I could find a loop-hole. A clause that doesn’t involve my bloody death. Something that would relieve me of my rule so that I could live out my existence a happy man.
Becca Moree is an adult romance author who lives in middle-of-no-where, South Carolina with her amazing hubs, her two adorable little girls as well as enough adorable fur and feather babies to qualify as a mini-farm. When asked about all of the animals she rescues, is given, or manages to bring home her hubs just laughed and said “I basically fund her having a zoo at this point. I’ve gotten used to it. I’m waiting on the day I come home to a potbelly pig and 2 rabbits that someone “gave” her…”
Becca is a stay at home mom to her two rambunctious little girls. When she isn’t chasing them around or writing she is working on her custom sewing and embroidery business. (Or reading… reading is a slight obsession!)
Becca has been writing since high-school. Most of her stories start as either a strange dream that refuses to stop repeating until she sits down and story-boards or a random conversation that would get most people committed. She openly admits that when it comes to her stories, while she does outline and use character development sheets, often the story takes off on a completely different path than she planned. She is an absolute passenger to her stories and typically just sits back and enjoys the ride as they tell her their stories.
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