Traffic

Chapter Thirteen

"Wren, be a doll and go get Marsha and Candy. I want to film them tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"Patty, will you set up my equipment in the bedroom?"

"Yes sir."

"Ah, Candy, Marsha, good, you're both here. I want you two to be filmed tonight and I'm going to have you start off as if you just came in from a swim. So, Marsha, change into this bikini, and Candy, get into this one."

Kelly looked at the clothing Hank had laid out for her and Marsha to wear and a knot grew in her stomach. This would be her third time this week having to sleep with one of these girls and it made it hard for her to shake it off and talk to them afterword. She hated it with every fiber of her being and wanted it all to stop, but if she did well, she was praised instead of punished. Wren had been punished the night before for not sleeping with Hank and it scared Kelly the way his eyes seemed to turn black with anger when she defied him. He had locked her in her room and just barely let her out because he needed her to fetch Kelly and Marsha.

Kelly obeyed, despite her hatred for her new master, and changed into the bikini, heading to the filming bedroom.

Two hours later, Kelly lay in the bed, hatred spewing from every pore in her body. Marsha had cleaned up and left to go to sleep, but Kelly couldn't move. Every sound she heard set her on edge and she couldn't calm down. Hank had called her names she had never heard before when she 'did it wrong' and it infuriated her so much that she took control simply to get it over-with. That had only made Hank angrier. He hit her, but didn't lock her away, so that was a mercy in Kelly's mind, but as she lay there, she plotted his demise.

I could stab him. No one would miss him. He's a scumbag. All these girls would thank me and Wren would be free to find her girlfriend and Marsha could work at a restaurant and Patty and Becca could find their families—I would make so many lives better if I just stab him where he sleeps. He would wake up in hell where he belongs.

I could claim self-defense and never get arrested. Everyone would believe me. I could go do it right now. Marsha would never stop me from taking a knife from the kitchen. I could be freed forever. I could go home. I could see Fred and Trace and mom again. I could sit at the table and do my homework and never complain about the Pythagorean Theorem ever again. I could read my books and see Jessica and—

I'm going to do it. I need to get out of here. I'm going to kill Hank and I am going home.

Kelly slowly pulled herself from the bed, her body tired and sore, and reached for her bathrobe. After she wrapped it around her, she made her way silently to the kitchen. Marsha had gone to bed and Patty was with Hank, so she only had Becca and Wren to worry about stopping her. Thankfully, she could hear both snoring quietly in their rooms as she walked down the hallway.

She had waited long enough that Hank was finished with Patty and Kelly could easily tell her to leave the room so she could do what she had her mind set on doing.

She reached the kitchen door and pushed it open, walking through the darkness to the counter where she reached for the long, butcher knife. She held it firmly in her grasp and walked, her bare feet cold against the floor, down the hall to Hank's bedroom.

She reached his door and pushed it open, her silhouette framed in the doorway as she stood, holding the knife that glinted against any bit of light that hit it. Patty lay in the bed, Hank's arm draped around her, but she was wide awake.