TW: Suicidal thoughts
Bex POV
I'm not sure how long it's been. A few days, a week, a year? What I do know is I can't keep going like this. I can't survive much longer. I want to but I'm just so fucking exhausted.
I try to think of Enzo and Marco, but I know the truth. Marco is dead. They showed me camera footage of him being wheeled out of the condo in a black bag. I'm not dumb, I know what that means. He is dead and the thought of it makes me numb. They did the same thing to Enzo, they showed me a picture of him strangled to death.
I know the other boys would try to find me, but if the Mexicans killed Enzo and Marco, I bet my life savings the others are gone too.
Everything hurts. My head, my heart, my body. At first, they had me dancing in a strip club. I would do private rooms too, luckily they weren't allowed to rape me, but they touched me and nobody did nothing about it. I have never felt so humiliated in my life. If stripping is what you want to do I have no complaints, and the girls in there were so awesome and strong for dealing with that bullshit.
But maybe because I was a prisoner, Miguel would make me entertainment for the nastiest men in the club. He would put me in nothing but panties, and leave me there for hours, dancing to survive, but hating myself for it. Just thinking about it will make me puke.
It's not like that would be the first time today. For some reason a while ago, I have no concept of time, they pulled me from the strip club and put me in this fucking room. I am chained to the ceiling and I have been since I got here. I can't feel my arms.
They have been beating me to the edges of my life. Tazoring me, hitting me, slapping me, kicking me. My nose is broken, my ribs are broken, my shoulder dislocated. This is hell.
They barely feed me, just give enough water to keep me alive and once in a while some bread. I can't sleep. I'm too scared, too sad, in too much pain.
A bit ago was the worst. Three guys came in asking about Marco's intentions, which I find weird because he is dead. I wouldn't tell them though in case some of his men are still going to carry out his plan. It was the usual beating, I even thought it was better than normal because there were no whips involved.
But then it went to hell. They started slashing my skin with a knife and that was that. I haven't cried since the first night, but I let it all out. It was too much. I thought I was dead right then and there. It almost seemed like they were purposely making it bad for a show. Why would they do that? Nobody was watching.
They gave me something after to stop the bleeding, but nothing for the infection I will have or the pain. Since, I have been crying and puking and that leads me to now where I am currently trying to loosen a nail in the chains where my hands are. I can't feel my hands or arms, but I can see them moving. The dislocated shoulder makes the pain horrible and this task fucking impossible.
Miguel Gonzales is to blame. For my pain. For Marco and Enzo's death. For my future death. I don't know much but what I do know is that I am going to kill him or hurt him as much as possible, and hopefully they will kill me.
I don't want to be alive anymore, I can't be. I'm twisting and twisting that damn screw until finally it pops out. Yes. Thank you lord Jesus.
Just as I plan how best to use a screw as a weapon, as if the world read my thoughts, none other then Mr. Miguel Fuck You Gonzales walks in.
"Hello my sweet Bex," he says walking right up to me. "How are you doing today?"
I hate him so fucking much. Obviously I am doing really shitty thanks for asking. I don't answer and defiantly turn my head.
He slaps me hard across the face, and then grabs my hair harshly. "You will not speak to me like that brat. Today I am doing you a favour. I am selling you to my brother, he owns a sex trafficking ring and thinks you'll be a great addition to his collection."
As I am about to answer, the door slams open, and what seems like 20 of Miguel's men flood in. "Don, we need to go," one of them says in Spanish. "Another Mafia has infiltrated us, we don't know who yet, but they have bombs, we are outnumbered we need to go now."
"FUCK!" shouts Miguel. He looks back at me and then at his men. "Leave the girl, she is useless anyways. Lets go."
They all leave the room, leaving me to the hands of some unknown Mafia. I can't go through this torture again. I need to get out of here before the new Mafia takes me.
A few moments later, an army of men flood into the room. They are dressed in all black, with black face coverings, and massive guns. "We found her," says one through an intercom.
I don't know who they are or why they want me but I start begging. All my dignity is gone. "Please, please don't take me, just leave me here and let me die, please, I did nothing wrong."
All my resolve is gone and I start weeping. One guy approaches me and I try to scurry back, but my arms are still in the chains. I think he's going to hurt me, or worse rape me. I am wearing scraps of clothing, barely anything. He surprises me when he reaches up to the chains and rips them from the ceiling, and then takes a bolt cutter from one of the other men and cuts them.
The second he does I fall back into the corner. I haven't used my legs in so long, the weight of my body can't be supported. But when I fall, I start to feel all my injuries even more than before. The guy tries to approach me again, but I flinch back.
I am so scared I can't talk or move or do anything. The screw is long forgotten. I wouldn't be able to take down all these guys in the state I am in, especially with a screw.
"Holy shit, look at what they did to her. They are gonna have a very painful death." says one of the guys.
What the fuck does that even mean.
"We should sedate her, she won't come with us willingly. Look how scared she is." says another guy.
Umm excuse me. Absolutely in no way will I let these jack asses sedate me.
Next thing I know a different guy stabs me in the neck with a needle and everything goes black.
3 HOURS LATER
"Wake the fuck up Bexley."
I open my eyes slightly, the blissful sleep I had stopped the pain, but nope, it comes back in a rush. I let out a harsh groan of pain. "I know, I know. You will get pain meds soon but Boss needs to see you." says a dude above me.
That is when I take in my surroundings. I am lying down, across the back seat of a car staring up ahead at some guy leaning over me. It's weird though, I am not restrained or being held down in any way.
"Please don't hurt me." I whisper.
"Believe me, I would rather get stabbed a thousand times then hurt you and deal with the consequences." he says. And then he drags me out and I can't think properly because of how much pain I'm in.
Weird thought though. What did he mean consequences for hurting me. And the pain I'm in is from the lasting injuries, he actually dragged me out in the least painful way as possible.
I am so confused, so numb to my emotions and just accepting the pain, that I let two men hold on to me from the side and help me walk into a building, but are basically lifting me because my legs aren't working. I keep my head down because I am too exhausted to lift it, so I don't take note of the building we are going in.
As I'm looking at the ground, I see a bunch of feet lining the edges of my vision, as if we were in a hallway and people were standing on each side along the walls.
But then, I am pulled into reality when I hear the voice that I will recognize forever. The voice that makes my heart beat 10 times as fast and that can make my sum my pants or make me the happiest girl in the world. The voice I never though I'd hear again. Because the person it belongs to is dead.
"Principessa?"
I look up and stare at Marco, half shock, half relief, I don't know. All these emotions overwhelm me at once. He is not dead. I am safe. I am safe with him. Enzo is behind him, crying fat tears but with a huge smile on his face.
Marco is alive. Enzo is alive. The boys are here too. I am safe and Marco saved me and he will protect me and my Marco is alive.
I don't think about anything except this incredible scary ass man literally trembling a few feet away from me. I was grieving for him, but now I don't have too. I need to get to him. I step forwards fast, out of the men who are holding me up.
Reality crashes my bubble when I fall instantly in a slump to the ground from the pain and the fact that my legs are too weak to hold me.
I am so happy, so relieved, so sad from what I have been through, my head is so messed up that I start sobbing like I have never sobbed before. Loud, ugly, cries of pain and sorrow and joy. Warm familiar arms reach me and wrap around me carefully, making me cry harder. Marco, who is there holding me, comforting me, is alive.