Club 'DRUNKEN CHERRY' (FIGHTERS AGAINST DARKNESS #1) (CHECK ON AMAZON!)

Chapter 11 "VIOLET"

Because of the overload with emotions my tired eyes welled up with tears, but I kept them not to seem to be weak and hopeless. I had to be a fighter and even a cunning negotiator.

Continuing to study the furniture, I noticed that a few wooden chairs upholstered in silver or gold brocade were placed in the corners of the room. (I immediately thought how much money were blown off on that hall, and, probably, the guests and the owner liked it. Otherwise, what for all that chic?) Huge black piano and other musical instruments like tom-toms, harp and violoncello were standing in the far right corner of the hall. Not far from me I saw a small settee, which was also upholstered in brocade as well as the chairs, and where different kinds of whips and belts were lying.

My glance was wandering restlessly over all that madness until it froze on a velvet burgundy chair in which Kyle was sitting. His hands were tensely pressed in the arms of the chair, and he looked completely broken.

My heart bled for him. He didn't even look at me as if admitting that he ceased to fight with those bastards.

Maybe Kyle was still under the influence of drugs? Or maybe he knew what was waiting for me there.

I mentally wept with my powerlessness, because nothing could be done. I wanted to come closer to him, to shake him, to say that everything was well, and we shouldn't give up... But then rough hands of Mr. X stopped me, and I cried because his nasty thin fingers painfully tightened on my delicate skin. He tore my robe with his one hand and threw it aside away from his eyes. Mr. Grave only clapped his hands to his successful show, like a satisfied spectator and at the same time a critic, who knew how shitty Kyle Jamieson felt that day. However, as well as I did.

Burning with shame, I was standing naked in the middle of a huge room, unable to resist the grip of the dark lord Mr. X. One of his hands held me by the waist, and another one brazenly wandered over my breast and neck, showing Kyle how much he lost. He had no right to do anything without their permission and knowledge. He should become more obedient.

I felt that Kyle was boiling with anger, but I prayed to God with every fiber of my soul that Kyle didn't make an incautious step. I didn't want to see that he could be hurt. I couldn't stand up this.

Sometime after that, having looked at me at last, Kyle suddenly froze. He made a wry face, apparently knowing what they were doing to me. He could only watch them humiliating me and "having" my dignity. Although he could get up and kick their asses but then he would be chucked out of the club. And I was sure that he would have had no chances to see me again.

Kyle quickly jumped out of his chair from desperation and impotence, but Grave's strong hand stopped him, placing him back.

"How long will you be torturing me?" Kyle roared about the whole hall, like a little wolf whom a pack of hunting dogs was tearing with their tushes, who were Grave and that crazy psycho Mr. X.

"I thought that it would be more funny, having given both of you the choice," Grave said loudly, rejoicing that he caught Kyle into a trap.

"Which choice?" Kyle howled again, realizing that Grave was just making fun of him. "You're fúcking me around yourself together with Violet. After all, she's your spy, huh? And you're still taking piss out of her!"

Grave suddenly doubled up with such a hysterical laughter about the hall that I thought he was going crazy. He was laughing an obnoxious way, sounding like a mix between a donkey hee-haw and a pig snort, that Mr. X couldn't help to hold himself and immediately joined him.

They were laughing like idiots while there were tears in my eyes. I understood what Kyle was driving at. He thought that I betrayed him and just nickered at him. I was broken.