His Collection

TWELVE

Filthy, dirty and pathetic; I had never felt like this before, and had never been through something as disgusting and inhumane as that. Curling into a ball on my bed, I cried, mentally voicing out how stupid I was. Sunlight filled the room and Lance's face as he stood over me, watching at how I cried into my palms. It's been a day since I had spoken a word to either Marina or him, or had even ate anything. All I did was cry. That was all I knew to do to cope.

He had raped me. He had broke into me as if he had permission. What's worse , Kyle is probably dead. Gone forever!

Refusing to meet eyes, I grab a pillow and pull it closer to my face, then I let my muffled swear words give him the damn hint.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Yes! Yes! Leave me alone!

I keep crying. I wasn't going to answer, especially when he knew the damn answer. "Fuck you," I wanted to scream aloud but somehow I couldn't bring myself to speak. My throat had cancelled out my voice from the fright he put me through.

"Tell me you do, and I'll do it," he added.

No reply.

"Talk, just say something. You haven't even said a word to Alice."

More sobs.

"Blanca...forgive me. I didn't -I had not thought that I would have done that to you."

He touched my dress, and it only made me tuck it under the sheets. My jeans were taken away, and I felt as if now I was far from safe of being under him again.

Marina came in, then stood next to him. I could smell the grilled vegetables, and knew it was dinner time once more.

There was no point of feeding me, they should have been aware of that by now; I was planning of starving myself to death. If I couldn't even make it out to the woods for a wolf to dismember me, and Lance had no plans on murdering me, then killing myself would be that way out of this misery. Something in me had broke, and I couldn't tell whether it was my spirit, or heart.

"Blanca, come on, let's eat," she merrily spoke out, and then sat on the bed trying to remove the pillow from my face. I'd kick her right in the stomach if she wasn't such a pet monkey with a diminutively damaged brain.

By now, Lance had had enough. He took hold of my wrist, lifted me out of my soaked pillow, and stared me in the face, trying to see my eyes but I held them shut.

"Say something. Please," he growled, and I shook my head. He ordered Marina to leave the meal, and to get out. After setting the plate down on the bed, she then scurried away as if she had somenthing better to do in her room.

"Talk to me," his voice became soft, and so did his grip. I shook my head as my eyes kept dripping the constant shame I was feeling. Never had I felt that way about my body, or existence. Repeating the request once more, he then sat on the bed a foot away from me, and placed the plate of food between us. Now that I had seen him, I couldn't look away. He was right there with me, right next to me once more, and all I wanted to do was to be cry in my mother's arms as if I were an infant who had no time for words.

Was that the last time my mother held me?

"At least eat." Lance said while picking up a slice of carrot and placing it over my lips. It was warm, and my stomach wanted it, but I snapped my head away. Lance let go of my wrist, and leaned in while saying, "Or do you want me to force the food from my mouth to yours?"

He knew that would have set me straight. My round eyes turned to glass, and I slowly sat up. There wasn't going to be a fight, at the moment I had no fire to fuel my spirit.

"You'll never forgive me," he stated as I chewed at the assorted vegetables. The more I looked at him, the more it did seem as if it had been a bad dream; he didn't look like the kind of person to ever hurt someone like that...but then again, looks can be deceiving.

If I won't ever forget what you did, how can I forgive you?

"That's not why I brought you here, it wasn't to sleep with you." Lance gave a hopeless smirk at his own words, then looked at me. "Really, it wasn't. I just wanted to talk to you some more. I would have brought the other guy, but he needed medical attention."

Nothing changed --on the outside, my face was blank, and droopy, however, inside I was crying even louder for Kyle. As Lance spoke I did thank the heavens that he did let Kyle go and be taken care of;  he would have died out here with those wounds yet who knew if he was alive or not right now.

"So just talk to me, please. I want to hear your opinion on some things."

Eyeing him, I wanted to break the plate in two then reconnect them through his throat. My opinion on my current dilemma couldn't be made any clearer than with that thought. Surprisingly, it did set a chill down my spine how dark my thoughts had gotten.

"Talk, Blanca." Lance spoke softly while his hands balled up within the sheets.

I opened my mouth a bit, and his eyes showed a pleasing shine, but nothing came out my mouth. Slowly I shook my head, and the small smile that had formed on his face faded.

Mentally, I could hear my own voice directly sending the message clear: I don't ever want to talk to you.