“I’m not sure, I…I was…dancing in my room, I must have tripped over
my bed frame and fallen off the bed.”
The doctor looks at my chart with a frown on his face, and I can feel my
guys around me vibrating with anger. I can’t look at Constantine now, his
piercing gaze wants to incinerate me and demand truth. But this is the only
truth I can give right now.
“She’s always been a clumsy child.”
The doctor looks to my dad and gives a slight nod, but I can tell he’s not
buying it.
“Would you all give me a moment alone with my patient, please?”
My father only looks at me for a moment, but I know exactly what it
promises. Lie. Lie or this leg will be the least of my problems. I give him a
barely-there nod, squeezing the hands I hold to reassure them. Alex stays
the longest, his hand resting on my unharmed foot.
I can see how he feels about me, the way his blue eyes want to cry again
and keep me safe and hold me. But he won’t. Not yet. He’s not ready.
Soon it’s just me and the Doctor in the chilly hospital room, and as he
shuts the door, I steel myself against my nerves, fortifying my lungs to give
me enough oxygen to tell the Doctor what he needs to hear to let me go
home.
“It’s just us in here, Ms. Knight. Either the bed you claim to have fallen
off of rivals the one in that fairytale with a hundred mattresses, or you
aren’t safe and need help. Now, we both know you didn’t break your leg in
three places by dancing around your bedroom, but I can’t really do anything
for you unless you can tell me what did happen.
“This is a safe place. Whatever you tell me will stay with me and will
allow me to help you.”
I see the disappointment in his eyes when I lie again, but apparently
that’s what I’m good at. Disappointing people. I always disappointed my
mother, not being able to keep my dresses clean. I always disappointed my
father, not being able to listen to him as well as I should. No, this was my
fault.
The doctor signs my discharge papers and leaves them on my side table.
My father doesn’t come back so my boys get Constantine’s Mom to pick us
up.
That is the first night they start sneaking into my room, Constantine and
Cameron taking turns to check on me at night. It becomes a regular
occurrence, and they saturate my dreams always, embedding themselves in
my skin.
Amelia, age 16
I wake up in a start, my breathing erratic from the nightmare that hits me
so often. The dream that shouldn’t terrify me, because it’s only my father
and myself sitting in my room, but nothing else happens.
It doesn’t need to, though. Too much has happened already in this room
to fuel all my nightmares.
“Shh. Go back to sleep, Baby. We don’t have to get up yet.”
Cameron pulls me back down and wraps an arm around me, combing my
hair and rubbing my arm to help me calm down. His hand makes
goosebumps pop up all over, tracing onto my stomach through the thin
cotton of my cami.
His kisses have gotten more frantic lately, more desperate. Him and
Constantine have been having a hard time controlling our makeout sessions,
and I think I’m ready to do more. I want their touch to erase all the bad I’ve
gone through, want to feel them so deep inside my body that I can’t erase
the memory.
His hips shift against me, the sleep shorts I’m wearing doing little to act
as a barrier between us. I already talked to the school nurse at the beginning
of the school year, and she helped me get birth control. I know my father
would never allow it.
I tense as he enters my mind, but Cameron is quick to ease me past it, his
mouth so warm from sleep as it kisses along my neck. I carefully peel off
my tank top, baring myself to him for the first time, nervous about
everything.
Will he still think I’m beautiful when he sees all of me? My skin is no
longer clean and smooth. I’ve made father angry a lot of times.
Cam’s eyes darken as they take in all the little marks, but he doesn’t give
me any judgement or disgust. He just rolls me over onto my back and
hovers above me, offering me sweet words instead.
“I love you, Amelia Poppy. I always have, and I always will. You’re
beautiful. So damn beautiful.”
He tastes all of the skin he can find, forcing my eyes closed as my body
absorbs his kisses. My nipples harden as his tongue wraps around them, and
his hips start moving against me, making me squirm.
With shaking hands, I reach down to his boxers, wanting them to be
gone.
“You sure, Amelia? I don’t want to rush you.”
“I need this, Cam. I need you. More than I can say. Please?”
I feel like I’m begging, but I don’t know what I’ll do if he turns me
down. I shouldn’t be nervous, this is my Cam. The only thing that would
make this better is if my Constantine were here, too.
Alex was nearly there, I think he was about ready to kiss me. He broke
up with Ashley over the summer and has been acting a little differently
towards me. I can feel the tides shifting. I think he’s worried about his
parents, and what they’ll think.
It’s not exactly normal for him to be dating the same girl as his two best
friends.
When Cam finds what he’s looking for on my face, his reluctance
crumbles and he slips his boxers off before pulling down my shorts and
panties.
He lays on top of me, every inch of his sun-kissed skin touching mine in
a perfect plane. I like the weight of him on top me, the way he pushes me
into the mattress and makes me feel trapped. I would willingly be trapped
here for as long as he wanted.
His hands skate to my hip, to my knee, carefully pressing on the inside of
my knee as it travels up to my inner thigh, pressing my legs apart to make
room for his hips. I’m still shaking a little from nerves, and I can tell he’s
nervous, too.
Not because we’re not ready, but because it’s our first time and because
we know already that it won’t be the last time we do this. No, our stories
were deeply intertwined from the first day of kindergarten. Our souls are so
mixed up that you couldn’t tell whose is whose anymore.
He kisses me again, then takes a moment to look at my body. I blush
under his exam, letting my own eyes travel the length of his body and my
fingertips brush against the hardening planes of his abs. He’s been working
on that farm all summer and his arms and stomach offer undeniable proof of
his strength.
My eyes get stuck on his cock, afraid he won’t fit. I’ve touched myself
before, but one or two of my fingers is a far cry from the girth and length
he’s offering me.
“I’ll be gentle, as much as I’m able Amelia. I don’t want to hurt you.”
His fingers, trembling as well, move to my center and run up and down
my slit as an ache starts to bloom deep within me. I can feel my slick
coating his fingers as he explores me, warming my body up enough to take
; him within it.
My eyes are trapped in his as he replaces his fingers with his cock,
slowly pushing in and breaking past my barrier. It pinches, but having him
in my body already feels better than anything else I’ve experienced in this
jaded lifetime.
He doesn’t last long, but it’s enough for our first time. When he collapses
on top of me, he spends some time just holding me and comforting me,
promising me without words that we’re permanent. If only that were a
contract so I could have gotten in writing.
A few hours later and he’s long since slipped away, back to his house to
get ready for school before his parents notice him gone. My body is sore
and achy, but I can’t take the smile off of my face. Every touch from
Cameron felt like a lifetime in the making, and I get to experience it all over
again with Constantine.
And hopefully, someday Alex. I had faith that he’d get there, I could feel
his soul just as deep within me as I could Constantine’s and Cameron’s. I
had reassured him over and over that he was mine whether he was ready or
not, and that I’d wait for him.
He needed patience, and he was worth waiting for. I could see the
longing in him every time one of the other boys kissed my forehead or
wrapped an arm around me. He was starting to grab my hand more often,
testing the waters.
I hear footsteps outside my door and instantly start panicking, because I
never re-dressed after Cameron left. I fell back asleep and forgot.
I start sweating, shaking for a whole other reason.
The door flies open, and I can feel the thunderous rage on him from
where I sit, wrapped as modestly as possible in my bedsheets.
“You little whore. You think I wouldn’t notice that you’ve been spending
time with all those boys?”
His boots stomp across the hardwood of my room and I back against the
wall, trying to keep space between us. Space he ignores.
He grabs my hair, wrapping it firmly and methodically around his fist,
before dragging me out of bed and dumping me on the floor. I’m ready for
the kicks, I’ve been in this position before.
“Well if you’re going to be a tramp anyway, I guess you won’t mind if I
benefit from it, right? Whores like to make money, right?”
He sneers at me and I close my eyes against the foul stench of stale beer
on his breath. His eyes are crazy, and I instinctively know that everything
just changed.
I know better than to cry out, any noise only encourages him to do
greater damage. He drags me down the hallway as I scramble to keep the
sheet around me. We get to the guest room and he drags me inside. It looks
different.
“This is your room, now. You see that big mirror right there? That’s a
special feature I had put in. I’m going to make some good money off your
behavior. I already got a bunch of offers after that little show you and your
stupid boyfriend put on this morning.”
He starts laughing at my guilty, scared expression. Big, terrifying belly
laughs.
“What, you think I didn’t know about all those late-night visits? Girl, I’ve
had a camera in your room for the past year. You won’t be going back to
school, we can’t have you running your little mouth. Did you know that
high school can now be done online? You don’t have to step foot outside
this house anymore, little girl.”
His spit flies all over my face, burning like acid as my gut starts
churning. He leaves the room, hurrying back in to remove the sheet from
me before exiting again and locking the door. Three times, from the outside.
I let myself cry for a minute before I start looking around. The window
has bars on it, and he’s added access to the guest bathroom. There are no
towels, no clothing, no blankets or sheets on the bed. I’m still completely
naked and I feel so exposed.
I use the bathroom, wiping away the little bit of residual blood from my
first time with Cameron. When I’ve washed my hands I walk around the
room, feeling eyes on me.
I stare at the large mirror my father was going on about, falling back
when I hear movement and laughter from the other side of it. I look up and
see a small speaker, then sounds.
Awful sounds from a voice I don’t recognize. I can tell he’s touching
himself, somehow seeing me. I cry out when I realize it’s a one-way glass
mirror. I can’t even hide under the bed because It’s only a mattress on the
floor, and it’s been tacked down.
I fly around the room, looking for anywhere I can hide. But the bathroom
is in full view of the mirror, there’s no door. And only a few squares of
toilet paper so I can’t even use that to cover myself. The shower has a glass
door, and there’s nothing else in the room.
I curl into a ball on the mattress, trying to use the wall and my own body
to hide.
Amelia
Three months later
I’ve adjusted to being cold all the time, of the feeling that trickles over
my skin anytime one of my father’s clients enters the hidden room. I can
tell when they watch me, the microphone in that room an extra added evil
meant to terrify me further.
even that is starting to not bother me anymore. It’s a regular occurrence.
The only thing that causes me discomfort now is the loss of my boys. I
have to wonder what they think happened to me. Were they worried when I
stopped showing up at school? Have they tried to see me? I’m on the
second floor with bars and nothing else on the side of the house so they
can’t even get to the window.
My father offers me the laptop, which he monitors from the secret room
as I complete my schoolwork everyday, ensuring I’m staying on top of it so
no one gets notified that I’m not attending. The loneliness is painful. I get to
escape when I dream, once again feeling the warmth of hands holding mine,
of teenage kisses lingering on my cheeks and lips.
I cry every time I wake up to my reality, to the cold, white starkness of
my life now. I scoot away from the blood stains on the mattress. My father
won’t give me any pads or tampons, he said that some men pay extra to
watch me bleed.
Just seeing the stains is enough to make me gag, because of how
thoroughly violated I am.
Loud crashes downstairs startle me and I immediately retreat to the
corner, putting my back to the wall as I hide my face in my arms, unwilling
to show my face today. I sit there trembling until I hear the tumblers turn in
the locks, trying to make myself even smaller than I already am.
Which is pretty easy to do considering how little my father gives me to
eat. He tells me his clients don’t want to see a fat girl.
“She’s up here.”
A close voice makes me flinch and I hold myself tighter, sobbing at being
faced with a stranger. Will they expect more than just a visual show now? Is
that why he’s in my room this time?
“I’m not going to touch you, kid. Amy! Amy, I need you in here.”
The man leaves and I hear lighter footsteps enter, and a soft, feminine
voice. Wait, I know that voice. I look up at Cam’s mom, flinging myself at
her as she cries and holds me.
“I’ve got you, sweet girl. Shhh, it’s okay.”
She peels off her sweater and wraps it around me, giving me blissful
coverage for the first time since my father brought me in here. She holds me
for a bit, then helps me to stand and brings me down the hall to my old
room, getting clothes for me before walking me to the bathroom I used to
use that has towels and soap.
She helps wash me, scrubbing my hair and putting lots of conditioner in
it. When the hot water turns off, I’m wrapped in a soft towel as she dries my
hair, carefully combing it and helping me into some leggings and a t-shirt.
Still shaking, she walks me back to my room and helps me into a sweatshirt
that Cam left behind months ago.
The faded smell of him on that sweatshirt make my knees buckle and she
helps me to the bed, wrapping me in my comforter and rubbing my back.
“Amelia, I’m so sorry. The boys have been trying to get you out of here
for months, it took the cops some time to make a case and get the search
warrant. You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here.”
I nod, not ready to talk because I haven’t used my voice in nearly three
months except to cry.
I hear warm voices in the hall, arguing, making me flinch.
“Shh, it’s just the boys, Amelia. I told them to wait but it seems they’re
too eager to see you. Would you like to see them? I can stay if you’d like?
Or I can tell them to come back later?”
I peek my head up from my blanket cocoon, tears blinding my eyes as I
peer to the doorway to see my three beautiful boys all crowding each other
and their eyes locked on me. Frozen, like they thought I would crack and
blow away if they so much as breathed on me incorrectly.
I nodded at Amy, hoping she understood. As soon as she was climbing
out of the bed, Constantine was there, scooping me out of it. To go three
months without any human touch had been torturous, and now feeling being
wrapped in a thick blanket, surrounded by the other three parts of my soul, I
was able to just relax for the first time in months.
Constantine carries me downstairs, blanket and all, Cameron behind him