Messy and Shattered Read online

  There was no bed to sleep on, she had nothing just a floor. That's how we worked. If she was good she would get nice things. If she was bad she wouldn't. I placed her on the floor and sat in the only chair that was in the room; it was white and metal. I waited for her to wake up.

  Chapter Ten - Aimee

  My head pounded. Rather ashamedly, that was my first thought. The next one was of Erin. I swallowed hard to stop myself crying. I had to be strong. I tried to use my other senses before I opened my eyes. I listened carefully, concentrating on the very fine noises. I heard slight movement of clothes and a light sigh. I wasn't alone. I felt my hands shake and I pleaded with them to stop, I didn't want whoever was with me to know I was awake.

  "I know you're conscious Aimee, you can open your eyes."

  His Australian accent came through thick and I knew who it was. I was suddenly terrified what I would find once I let my eyes open. I hated this man beyond words and I didn't want to do anything he asked, but what choice did I have here? I was surprised to notice that I wasn't restrained. I fluttered my eyes open.

  My eyes hurt from the light; it was so bright, I blinked over and over until my vision adjusted. I looked around the bare room. No window, no furniture, just a large white room. There was a glowing keypad-type machine by the white door, and in front of the door sat the man who murdered my little sister. I should be scared of him, the fight or flight instinct would suggest I would be scared, but I had nothing left to lose. He could kill me, it didn't matter to me. In hindsight, it was rather foolish of me to think that the worst thing he could do was kill me. I stared at him with pure hatred and contempt. He stood, his height making me a little nervous, and so I tried to copy and get to my feet. Whatever he had given me hadn't released my legs yet, so instead I just looked pathetic. I heard a little laugh and I shot my eyes at him and saw him smile at me. The sick fuck was enjoying watching me try and fail.

  "You know, if you hadn't drugged me you wouldn't be laughing right now. I would take great pleasure in fucking up your day," I growled at him, he moved closer and I tried in vain to scoot away and he chuckled again.

  "Really think you could touch me before I made you regret the thought? Rather foolish if you ask me, Aimee," he grinned, but it didn't match his eyes, his grin looked forced.

  "Don't call me that," I said quietly

  He moved even closer to me and my hands shook again, I was so sure I could be strong, but deep down, I was absolutely terrified. He crouched down beside me and ran one finger over my cheek and I turned it away from him. He then held my head with his hands, his thumbs pressed against my cheekbones and he looked deep into my eyes. His eyes were soulless and dead; or at least that's what I told myself.

  "I can call you whatever I like, AIMEE." He emphasized my name and I wanted to be sick, maybe it was silly but a part of me thought that was the only thing I owned and I didn't want him to have it on his lips, in his mind. It was mine.

  "Why? Why us? You killed my sister, you fucking killed her you sick fuck! I hate you! She was fifteen!" I almost screamed at him and my eyes sparked with fresh tears. I expected a cocky and smart answer. Instead, he pulled me in with my lifeless limbs and held me in his arms. It was uncomfortable and confusing and I tried to push away; his grip felt strong and somehow I felt my body move against him as I sobbed and said over and over "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...”

  He looked at me and I noticed a garment in his hand that he had kept from my view before, it was a white baby doll corset-type top and white matching panties. He caught my look.

  "Ever heard of Einstein’s theory on clothes?" I stared at him completely baffled but I decided it wasn't story time and I wasn't some dumb little pet. I happened to know the answer; I had studied Sociology at Uni. He might be trying to appear intelligent but I was strong and he on his best day would never be as good as me on my worst.

  "Yes I do, he said choosing clothes was a distraction; took away the power of concentration. What is your point, murderer?" I snarled and he still held me; his fingers pushed a fraction harder.

  "See, smart girl. If you call me that again, though, I'll make you regret it. This is all you'll have to wear. Change into it once you get the feeling in your legs back"

  He pulled me in closer and whispered into my ear.

  "I’m sorry for whatever happens to you" and I felt new sorrow, still for Erin but now also for my future. He caused this future and I knew that no amount of hugs or fake apologies would make me forgive him. My future was uncertain and I knew I could trust no one. I knew I had to be patient and wait to make my move.

  I heard a voice from nowhere and realised there was a speaker in the far corner.

  "Stop fucking cuddling the bitch, and get your arse out here, you need to explain to me what the fuck you did and why I shouldn't kick your fucking arse!"

  The voice was angry and sharp with a foreign tang to it, and I looked at the murderer - and now, it seems, my captor. I caught his eye roll and he let me go. He didn't say a word as he walked to the door and took the metal chair with him, he tapped some numbers on the keypad and the door opened. I was alone. Finally, I could cry.

  **

  It seemed like hours had gone past, but I had no way of knowing the time. I could finally walk and move. I looked at the garment he asked me to wear and left it on the floor. I looked around the room, looking for anything out of place; I was relieved when I found a small door; I opened it slowly, cautiously; inside lay a toilet. No sink, no shower, nothing except a toilet. I wondered why they wouldn't just fit a sink in here, but was glad I had a toilet at all, the idea of asking to go felt beneath me and I wasn’t planning to soil myself anytime soon. When I walked back out into the white cell, he was back. He held the garment in his hand and raised his eyebrow at me.

  "Can you just tell me what the hell you want with me?" I kept the mantra in my head: ‘don't be scared, don't be scared.’

  His eyes shot dark and his anger bled through them. I noticed he had a cut lip and realised the other man had decided words weren't enough.

  "I want you to do as I fucking ask. Put the thing on or I’ll put it on for you, and trust me sweetheart I’m not in the mood to be gentle about it."

  I glared at him, maybe I was exceptionally stupid. After all, I knew what he was capable of - I had witnessed it - but I didn't care. I pulled the garment from his hand and he smiled a little in the corners of his mouth; that was until I threw it to the ground and spat in his face; such a disgusting thing to do but if I tried to hit him he would over power me, and honestly, I enjoyed watching his look of disgust. It lasted only a second but long enough to know he was mad.

  He wiped the spit off, and instead of looking angry, he grinned.

  "If you wanted your spit in my mouth, you only had to ask, Aimee."

  Suddenly he pulled me into him and I was slightly confused. He breathed into my ear

  "Do. As. I. Fucking. Say."

  I gulped hard and my pulse raced. I stood, my hands shaking, and I refused to falter or cry… or let him know I was nearly desperate to say 'okay, I’ll do it'.

  Before I could think any more, he grabbed me and pushed me against a wall; he placed his hand on my throat hard and stared deep into my eyes.

  "You look just like your sister when you're scared, those sad little eyes. You'll end up like her if you keep defying me. Sweetheart, I was kind to your sister ..." he leaned in and breathed over my lips "... I would make it extra slow for you, I promise"

  I heard a small whimper escape through my suffocating lungs up to my crushed throat. He pulled some scissors from somewhere, my vision got shaky and my heart almost stopped. I felt a tear escape my eye and I hated myself for it. He brought the scissors to my black tank top and cut both straps and then cut the middle of the cotton, the cold of the scissors scorched onto my skin. He watched as it fell to the floor. Next was my white shirt which he cut easily. He looked at me, his hand still slightly choking me. He licked his lips and my skin felt
dirty. He brought the scissors between my breasts and cut, my bra following my other clothes. I felt as more tears ran down my face, I felt so ashamed. I moved a hand to cover myself when he pushed harder against my throat.

  "Don't make me hurt you, Aimee."

  He finally cut my lace panties and I was completely vulnerable, completely naked and in my own mind… I was completely his. He pulled the white lingerie down over me and pulled the panties up my thighs, and as he reached my privates, he brushed his hand a little close and my breathing became louder to stifle a cry. When I looked into his eyes, it didn't match what he was doing. It confused me. He looked... scared, sorry and guilty. His actions were unremorseful and arrogant. I was finally how he wanted me, he let go of my throat and I felt the burn where I knew a bruise would turn up. I was a fighter, I coughed hard and he smirked at me. My cough was harsh and strong - he enjoyed hearing me catch my breath - after a few minutes I could manage to breathe clearly.

  "What's your name?" I asked almost sweetly

  "My name? You can call me Draco. And no, before you ask, that isn't my real name."

  I smiled at him, manipulating him for a fraction of a second, enjoying the power play.

  "Draco, I have an idea. How about..." I moved closer to him and ran one finger over his chest as I leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. He looked uncomfortable but he allowed it "...You do the world a favor, and drop dead." I went to lean back and he grabbed my wrist.

  He held it, pushing his strength into it wanting me to cry or be sad from the pain; I pushed the pain away and kept smiling at him. He wasn't going to win. Finally, he laughed.

  "You've got lead balls, Ms. Davies, I’ll give you that." He released my wrist and told me to sit on the ground. I did it because I wanted to not because he told me. I rubbed my wrist as he brought a meal over to me. It looked disgusting, it was lumpy and white.

  "Eat" he simply said.

  "What is it?" I asked playing with it with my plastic spoon he had given me. I guess he trusted me not to spoon him to death.

  "Just eat it, for fuck’s sake," he said, with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

  I was so hungry, but I refused to eat that. He held the bowl tight and I crawled away from him. He shook his head and took the bowl with him as he left the room for a few minutes. I had won; I smiled in triumph and saw the lights on the keypad shine meaning he was coming back; hopefully with something less gross to eat. He came back with a hockey stick, a heavy, wooden hockey stick.

  "Okay, princess, this is how it's going to go. Every day you refuse to eat that, you'll be given it again the next day until you do eat it. I don't care if it’s gotten hairy and grown three legs - you won’t be given anything better and every time you don't eat..." I tried so hard to crawl away but I wasn't fast enough, he grabbed my ankle and pulled me towards him, I watched as the hockey stick rose and heard it slice through the air until it made contact with my thighs, the pain was red hot. I whimpered and I almost heard him whisper he was sorry. I knew I must be mistaken, because he hit me again in the same spot, "...two hits every time you refuse. So your actions cause this, not me. Do as I say and you won’t be harmed. I am trying to protect you, trust me."

  He walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

  Trust him, really? I don’t call beating me protecting me; but if it was, what was the alternative?

  Chapter Eleven - Rahul

  That stupid little boy. He thought I wouldn't find out. It's cute really. I know everything. I couldn’t have come so far in this goddamn business if I didn’t. He worked hard to concoct a stupid story. The girl overpowered him? Right, of course the fifteen year old with no upper body strength overpowered him. He said he had no choice but to stop her before she alerted anyone. Good job I have eyes and ears everywhere. I had placed cameras in that room before the girls had even gotten there; I had video feeds of both of them. I had the video of him killing my little virgin girl, but I pretended to believe him. After all, that's the plan. I knew if I kept it up that I would be well rewarded, I would get my resolve eventually. He is going out today, to meet a 'friend.' He has no fucking friends. The plus side is that I get sweet Aimee all to myself. Draco was such a damn fool. He hadn't had any fun with her. Hit her a little and been a little rough, but I think she needs more. She wasn't scared of Draco, but she would be terrified of me. I waited for Draco to leave and watched her on my monitor, she sat there rubbing her bruised thigh; I couldn't wait to get in there, make her wish that it was her Draco had killed.

  Chapter Twelve - Draco

  It had been three months since I last saw Jethro. I checked in every three months with him per my instructions. I drove out to a desolate area based on the longitude and latitude coordinates he had given me. He was parked in his black sedan and I parked up my pick-up truck and walked over to the car.

  I enjoyed meeting with Jethro, he kept me sane. Sometimes you forget that this isn't who you are and you're just playing a role, that's what they told me when I joined. The two principle problems with this line of work were maintaining your identity for long periods and reintegrating back into society. Usually I didn't have many issues; I had killed and maimed and it was a job I had to do. In the end we won, it just took sacrifices. The past few days with Aimee had been hard. She refused to eat and her thighs looked worse and worse as I had to keep beating her. I had to be 'Draco' when I was with her, the guy that Rahul expected. He had cameras in that room, and according to him, I was already too soft on the girl. The first time I hit her, I apologized under my breath. I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to; I needed to remember I wasn't this guy, the trouble was that I was starting to enjoy it, and that's when I knew I had to meet Jethro.

  I opened his car door and got in.

  "Nice to see you, Jethro"

  He simply nodded and asked what had happened in the last three months. I told him about Rahul meeting more girls and that he had become more violent, including one prostitute he had brought back and gagged while he burned her body with cigarettes and then strangled her to death while inside of her. He made me clean up the mess. I told Jethro about other leads I had gained, including a buyer who was second in command to one of the largest illegal brothels in the world. Then I told him about Erin.

  "You realise I should pull you out for that. You have a license to kill under protection and immunity against any crime you commit on these jobs but based on your description and the look in your eye I would say you at least need a psych evaluation. I know you don't want that, you've worked too hard. We’ll keep this between us. You know you can trust me, you can relax with me." He lightly patted my shoulder as a show of support and even though I was strong and resilient, what I did to Erin wouldn't leave me. No matter what, I would never forget those eyes. Killing out of necessity wasn't new to me, but I wondered if it was really necessary. Maybe I had another option, but I had seen how Rahul had become more violent. Maybe I was cracking because I simply couldn't watch another one.

  Jethro was a smart man, young and focused. He had been an agent at the CIA for a number of years, from what I knew of him he had been undercover once and I believe it didn't end well. Since then, he had been a contact controller which basically meant he checked in with covert agents who were deep undercover for extended periods.

  He told me they had gotten further with working out a way to pull out the big boys in the sex slave industry. Unfortunately, he told me it involved the girl I was currently training. They were going to use alternative contacts and sources to have word escape of our young British beauty; a British girl is exceptionally rare to find and even though she wasn't a virgin - or I had assumed not - she would still get Rahul and I a hefty sum. Jethro went over his plan and had me listen intently.

  Chapter Thirteen - Aimee

  I sat in my corner; I had decided it was mine. It had been days I was sure. I couldn't be sure, but it must have been; my bruises were a reminder. I couldn't walk anymore. My thighs felt like they were bruised on
the inside. I rubbed them and they stung. He brought in the food and I didn't eat it, now it was moldy and stiff. When I saw it last it had green stripes of mold running through it and black, tar-like edges. I used my spoon to try and move it but it had set like concrete. I couldn't eat it, I refused to. He had said the next step was he wouldn't let me have any water either. I hadn't been allowed to shower yet. I spent most of my time alone. At first it wasn't so bad but then it was quiet and dead and I felt so desperate to have something. It had been too long, I was sure Draco usually came in by now. I heard the door open and my mouth almost smiled at the thought of some company. Then I remembered my sister’s blood on that marble floor and suppressed my smile.

  I looked to the door only expecting one face. I looked at the muscular man in front of me, and I knew I had seen him before; at the hotel when our room was switched; even then he made my skin crawl. He moved closer and I tried to scurry away, his thick brown lips widened to show rotting brown teeth and his eyes were as black as coal. I knew he was going to hurt me. I knew it in the pit of my stomach and I knew I wouldn't recover.

  "Hello Aimee. Oh, come on. Scurry away from me but have nice little banter with your sister’s murderer? Seems a little unfair, you fucking bitch..." He got up close to me and sat on the ground and pulled me into him, my heart clambered a mile a minute and my eyes burned with tears. He grabbed my hair and pulled it hard "... You see, I wanted that little innocent sister of yours; she was so perfect, not like you. You're used and therefore ugly. Look at you, skinny little bitch aren't you. I could snap you like a twig. I want to show you what your little sister missed out on; what she could have had. Draco is watching. He likes it, too. You're a fool." His voice was pure hatred, he was evil and death and the worst of everything mixed into one. He stood up and he pulled me by my hair into the middle of the room, I felt as blood dripped from my scalp. He knew I couldn't stand and he leaned over me with his foot and stamped hard onto my face, I cried out in a scream and for the first time I couldn't fake how I felt; my arrogance disappeared, I was scared. I felt as I sat in a pool of something. My heart felt flat. I looked at him as he took his foot away and noticed the cuts he had made into my bruised thighs. It should hurt but I couldn't feel a thing. He leaned over my body and began biting me. He ripped off my baby doll garment and sank his teeth around my nipple drawing more blood. I was certain it would scar. A constant reminder of the payback I had to dish out later.