Chapter 2

GABRIELLE, AND ANOTHER BEGINS

When I hear him shout my name to get my ass into his office, a ball of dread in my stomach forms immediately. What the fuck is this about? We hardly ever speak to one another at all except when he’s telling me how fucking hot I am, or some other dirty talk bullshit. Such a fucking asshole. Something is wrong and I’m terrified. I leave my bedroom and walk downstairs to where his home office is. I pass my shit excuse for a mom on her way out and she’s crying. She’s almost running past me so I don’t get a particularly good look, but I would swear she has a black eye. What the fuck is going on?!

“Ellie! Get in here!” God, I hate that name. Mom used to call me that all of the time and I loved it. Now I fucking hate it. I never want to hear that name ever again. I can hear in his voice that he is pissed off about something. As soon as I enter his office, he grabs me by my arms and throws me against the wall.

“Trying to keep secrets? Who the fuck do you think you are!?” What is he talking about? He doesn’t explain and instead slaps me across my face. My ears are ringing loudly, and I start seeing stars when he slams me against the wall again. I don’t understand why he is so mad… what did I do wrong!?

One of his hands takes both of mine and pins them on the wall above my head. No…. no… I don’t want this. And he’s mad. He isn’t going to be gentle. He never worries about me at the best of times but when he is in a bad mood… this is going to get so fucking bad… I don’t even know what I did wrong! His other hand slips under my shirt hem and pushes my shirt up. He yanks my bra down roughly revealing my breasts. It hurts because the bra doesn’t release and neither does his grip on my hands. His hand is cruel as he gropes my breasts, pinching and pulling – none of it feels good, all of it fucking hurts.

He forces his tongue down my throat and when I don’t respond fast enough, he pulls away and slaps me again. I don’t see stars this time but instead blackness starts to creep in and the only thing holding me up is his hand holding mine. The pain in my arms and shoulders is fucking excruciating but he doesn’t care. I’m pretty fucking sure he gets off on my pain. The more I cry, the happier he is. Fucking asshole.

He tugs down my pants and panties before undoing his own pants and releasing himself. Nothing would make me happier than seeing this son of a bitch choke to death on his own dick someday. He reaches between my legs with his free hand where I’m still dry as the fucking desert – but he doesn’t care. He never does. While he pries my legs apart, I mentally go to my happy place. In my happy place he can’t touch me. There are lots of trees and grass and butterflies flying here and there on the breeze and I can hear birds singing different songs coming from all different directions and there are pretty flowers of all colours including wild flowers which are my favourite and…

His kick in my ribs brings me back to the present. I’m now laying on the floor with no fucking idea how or when I got here. Thank God for that. My pants are still off, and I can feel him dripping out of me. Christ. But he is still fucking pissed off. Kick after kick. Is he going to kill me now? Minutes feel like hours, but finally he crouches down to sneer at me. Lifting my head by grabbing me by my hair, he makes sure I hear him loud and clear.

“Got a letter from your college today – did you really think you were going to be allowed to leave? Huh? Stupid girl! Do you have the money to pay for a place to live? Your food?” I dare to look him in the eye and there is so much fucking hatred and contempt in them I wonder if death wouldn’t be better. “You thought you were getting out, didn’t you? Your scholarships pay for school – nothing else and I’m not giving you a fucking cent pretty girl, unless you’re here working for it.” He slams my face into the floor then walks out of the room.

I lay there for a long time – or maybe it is only a minute. I don’t know. Time means nothing anymore. I did think I was getting out. I thought the scholarships covered everything, but clearly, I was wrong. He wouldn’t lie when all I have to do is go upstairs and look at my own fucking paperwork. Oh. My. God. He’s right. I’m fucking trapped. I don’t have any money because he made fucking sure of that. And I know exactly what he means by being here and ‘working’ for it. Wow. He is a real piece of work. Pedophile and now he’s what? Offering to pay me to be his sex slave?

Can you be a paid slave?

Doesn’t matter. I’m trapped. I’m fucking trapped. Six weeks. Six years. Six decades. Six seconds. Doesn’t matter. It is all the same to me – a fucking life sentence if I stay here. Christ – what if he decides he wants to have a kid with me? The thought of it makes me want to vomit, but I fight it. I’m so fucking sore right now after the beating he just gave me; I know I’ll lose consciousness if I puke.

If I stay here, I’ll die.

One way or another, I’ll die. Either he’ll kill me, or I’ll kill myself. The only thing that kept me going all this time was having this fucking goal of college – working towards this, trying to make it a reality. And now it is all gone. I can’t believe I fucking blew it. I’m so stupid. How could I screw up such an important fucking detail?

No. Fuck that shit.

Yeah. It’s a setback. No shit. But what am I going to fucking do about it? Stay here on his office floor and see if he’s up for another fucking round? No. Fuck no! I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do – fuck, I’ll clean toilets or flip burgers – whatever I have to – but I’m leaving. One way or another, I’m fucking out of here.

Now I just need to make it happen.