Page 110 of Chained

I finally saw her for what she was. A fucking whore. Father had been right; she'd spread her legs for anything that moved, anyone who offered her something in return. I just didn't expect it to be him. I didn't expect to walk into that parlour room after he'd fucking summoned me there and see her straddling him. To see his cock buried inside her. But his eyes searched for me to make sure I'd seen. He wanted me to know that everything in this fucking house belonged to him, even the woman who'd stole my heart.

It wasn't enough for him to take my mother and my sister. To have had both their cunts wrapped round his cock. He had to take her too.

He said she begged for it. He spent the entire night beating me with the buckle of his belt because I cried. I cried like a fucking little girl and he couldn't stop laughing. Said his belt was a way to make me a man.

I'll show them. I'll show them all what kind of man I can be one day.

20th of September 2016

Dear Diary,

She's gone.

I slam the book closed, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spill over every single page. What the fuck is this place? Who does this to their children? My eyes fall to the velvet bag beside me, every inch of me screaming to put everything back in the box and put it back in its place, but I have to know, I need to see what's inside.

Opening the small straps, I hold out my palm and empty the contents into my hand.

Tiny fragments of teeth fall out. My eyes widened at each one. I can't stop the way my hand jolts, the way each one falls to the ground as I scream.

Teeth. Fucking teeth. I knew he was a monster. I always knew it, but this, this is too much. It's too fucking much. That poor girl in the journal—I clamp my eyes closed. Don't think of what he did. Don't think of her pain. You won't survive the guilt, you couldn't save her. You didn't know her. I try to breathe through the panic that builds in my chest, my thigh throbbing from the shard that's been digging into my thigh, the pain finally surfacing as the adrenaline crashes. I can't do this. How can I kill him when no one else has succeeded? Has anyone else even tried?

I drop to my knees, scrambling to pick all the teeth before placing them back in the bag and shoving it back in the box on the bed. The journal slides down his silk bedsheets, landing on the floor. With a sigh, I bend down to pick it up—and that's when I spot the box beneath the bed.

Everything inside me runs cold, like there's a chill in the air, but no windows are open. Reaching out, I brush my fingers over the wood.

"Hello?" I whisper. "Is anyone in there?"

I wait. Eyes fixed on the brown wood, but no one responds. I let out a sigh of relief, but it's quickly shattered.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My eyes drag back to the box.

No.

No, no, no.

"Oh God, no." I let out a sob, dropping to my knees. I try to pull the box from under the bed, but it's too heavy. My fingers slide over the lid, praying for a way to get whoever is in there out. I can feel the holes that have been drilled inside for oxygen. I remember when it was me inside a box like this, and how I'd begged God to let someone find me.

"I hear you. I hear you, and I'm coming, okay? I won't leave you," I whisper over and over. But no matter how much I try, I can't get them out.

I can hear their muffled screams—they're gagged. Oh fuck, they're gagged, and I can't get them out. Every inch of my body aches as I pull, but it's no use.

"I can't do it," I sob, tears drenching my cheeks. "I will come back for you, I promise I'll come back and I'll get you out. I won't leave you in there."

My fingers grip against the small holes, praying for them to take my hand, just so they can feel the touch of someone who isn't him. They push two fingers out, and I curl my own around theirs.

"I promise, I'll come back."

Time moves faster than ever before. I hear the sound of his steps bounding down the corridor. The key sliding into the lock. I pull away—trying desperately to place the covers back over the side of the bed the way he'd left it. My eyes fall to the box on the bed, the door opening before I get time to put it back. He'll know I snooped. He'll know I looked.

But there's no time. There's nothing I can do. I quickly swipe it off the bed, kicking it under the cover that flows down the sides. Please let it be enough to hide it.

"You disobeyed." He tilts his head as he steps inside, each step slow and careful. His eyes never leave mine. "You're neither stripped nor ready."

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I thought—I thought you'd like to undress me," I try to recover quickly, moving closer to him. "You seem angry. I hope our special night hasn't been ruined."

His hand moves to my cheek, thumb slowly brushing my jawline. "I'm not angry." He leans in closer, closing the distance. His eyes almost close, but then he freezes. His hands begin to slowly close around my face, fingers crushing against my jaw. "Looks like instead of preparing yourself for me, you've been busy snooping."