Shhh... Gianna's Side (13 page)

“Get the fuck up or I will make you get up, and trust me, you do not want that to happen,” he roared, making me swallow the awful taste in my mouth from anxiety.

I didn’t recognize his voice.

I didn’t know the man before me.

And for the first time since this whole ordeal…

I was terrified.

I laid there and tried to shake off the nervousness. I was hoping he’d get angrier and just give up and leave the room. But the G part of me, the part that I tried to ignore, the part of me that still belonged to him, that he still owned, wanted him to touch me; to make me do it because then
at least he would have been touching me, and I wanted so badly to have his hands on me. How fucked up was that?

I waited for his next command, trying to internalize everything I was feeling, but I knew he could smell it on me. My desire for him, even after all those years, was still just as strong, if not stronger. I heard his footsteps and then felt the tips of his fingers drag from my ankles up to my calves and thighs; he stopped right at the edge of my panty line. His two fingers lightly tapped back and forth, and I shuddered.

“Isn’t this what you want, Miss Edwards?” he asked, reading my mind, exactly like I knew he would.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say and God help me, I wanted him to keep going.

“Hmmm…” he hummed, and then harshly slapped my pussy. “When I ask you a question, I expect a goddamn answer,” he clarified, and then slapped it again. “Isn’t this what you want? What you’ve always wanted…MY FUCKING ATTENTION!” he yelled, slapping my pussy over and over again, awakening an ache that had me withering beneath his touch. 

I couldn’t take it anymore as my body continued to betray me. “Yes! I wanted your fucking attention! That’s all I ever wanted!” I screamed.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Miss Edwards!”

I heard the sound of the belt before I felt it crudely hit the backs of my thighs. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to suppress the scream, not wanting to give him more satisfaction to what he was doing to me. The belt hit my calves next and I scratched at the mattress, next it was my feet that got hit repeatedly, and I bit my cheek so hard I tasted blood. It wasn’t until he hit my back over and over that had me screaming and begging for him to stop.

“Awe…come on, don’t you want to play? Ten lashes per year that I spent in prison, that seems fair to start off, don’t you think?” he threatened, striking me a few more times.

“FUCK YOU!” I yelled, making him hit me harder.

If he kept going, he was going to start to draw blood and I think he realized it, because he stopped. All I could hear was our erratic breathing.

“Is that any way to talk to your teacher? Where is your respect?” he jested, breaking the silence. “Who am I, Miss Edwards? Don’t make me ask you twice.”

I hesitated for a second. “Mr. Nichols.”

“No…not Mr. Nichols. Who am I? I know you want to say it. Here is your chance…call me by my name, just like you love to do.”

I whimpered. “I don’t want to play these games. Just do what you want.” My stomach churned and I could practically taste the bile at the bottom of my throat, not from what had just occurred, but from my body wanting its nourishment.

The only thing that ever kept me going.

I felt cold metal on my back and I froze. I heard fabric being cut and realized that he was cutting off the only clothing I had on. The solitary comfort he allowed me was now being stripped away. Once he was done, there was no movement or sound for several minutes and I wondered if he was admiring my body.

“Get up,” he demanded out of nowhere. I moved slowly, not wanting to upset my stomach, and the second I stood, I fell to the floor. With my ass in the air and my forehead resting on the concrete floor, I rubbed the clamminess and sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm.

“Get up!” he shouted, making me jump.

I braced myself on the side of the bed and used all the energy I could muster to pick myself up off the floor, and immediately grabbed my stomach once I was standing.

“Are you hungry?” he asked and I chuckled at his reasoning of what was wrong. I shook my head no.

“Walk,” he ordered.

I stumbled on my feet the first few steps. “I can’t see.”

“Just fucking walk straight until I tell you otherwise,” he ordered and I nodded.

We made our way out of the room and walked through what seemed like a long hallway. I couldn’t see a damn thing in front of me, but the stench in the air made my nauseous state even worse. I heard him open a door and then I instantly smelled the outside. Fresh air!

“Where are we going?” I asked, nervous that he was going to kill me and dump me in the woods somewhere.

He grabbed my hair, pulling my neck back. “Did I say you could talk?” he chastised in my ear.

He let go with a hard shove and I almost fell to my knees. “Walk.”

I tried to keep the pace that made him stop shoving me, but I only made it a few more steps before I fell to the ground. I couldn’t control it and heaved bile and liquid that smelled horrid.

“What the fuck is going on? I thought you were throwing up before from shock. What’s wrong?” he asked me.

“Alcohol…I need a drink. Please…” I breathed out between my dry heaves.

“What the fuck? Why?”

“I’m an alcoholic…” I confessed. It was the first time I had ever shared that with anyone, it may have been the first time I had admitted it to myself out loud. “My body is going through withdrawal and if I don’t get a drink soon, I could have a seizure and go into shock. So unless you feel like killing me today, I could die,” I explained, spitting out the ruminants from my mouth.

“Why the fuck are you an alcoholic?”

I followed his voice and looked up at him through the blindfold. “Why the fuck do you think?”

“Get up,” he commanded. His tone changed, it was much darker. Angrier.

“I can’t…it hurts to move…please…” I begged and started to cry. I couldn’t help it. My body was physically giving up on me.

“Get the fuck up!” he yelled, not caring or sympathizing.

“Ahhh!!” I screamed, trying to compose myself enough to stand. I stood, grabbed my stomach, and leaned over.

“Walk. We’re
almost there.”

We walked for what felt like miles. My bones were stiff from not moving them for days; the withdrawal made it worse and more intense.

“Stop,” he said from behind me.

That’s all it took, I stopped for a second and fell to the ground in pain, going straight into a fetal position.

“Miss Edwards,” he belittled from above me.

I hated it when he called me that and he knew it.

He slowly removed the blindfold from my eyes but I kept them closed. I didn’t want to look at him; if I did, then this whole ordeal was real. I wasn’t ready to come to that realization. I couldn’t look into the eyes of someone I thought I knew; he wasn’t there anymore, and looking at him would crush me.

“Ugh…” I let out and rolled onto my back, gasping for air as my chest heaved up and down. I’m sure I was quite a naked site. I could feel the blinding sun on my eyelids and it instantly caused my head to pound.

“Gianna,” he whispered, trying to get my attention. “Look at me.”

I shook my head no.

“Open. Your. Eyes.” I continued to shake my head no.

The unexpected, freezing cold water on my breasts bolted my body to a sitting position and my eyes immediately opened. I had to block the sun from my eyes with my arm; I thought my irises were on fire. It took a few seconds for my vision to finally adjust to the sunlight and I looked around, noticing I was in an empty field with a creek a few feet in front of me.
I guess that’s where I will be bathing.

I took a deep breath and looked in the direction of my
captor.
I stared at his feet and saw his work boots first, and then I slowly worked my way up his body. He was wearing jeans and a white V-neck shirt, his muscles tightly fit around the sleeves and his torso. He was much bigger than he had been before, he must have spent most of his time in prison working out. 

He looked older, there were soft wrinkles around his eyes but it only added to his appeal. His hair was longer and more pieces fell around his face, framing it. He was as handsome as ever, even more so. I quickly wondered how his appearance worked out for him in prison. And that’s when it clicked…he was going to punish me for what I did.

For what we did.

Is Mack here, too? Had
he taken both of us?

“I’m sorry,” I confessed. The words left my mouth before I even realized I had said them.

He narrowed his dark blue eyes at me, they were blank, lifeless, and empty, there was no emotion behind them. However, I did see some remnant of the man I used to know, his eyes flashed with forgiveness and just as fast as it appeared, it disappeared.

I hated him.

For everything.

“Get up,” he commanded, never taking his eyes off mine.

“I can’t,” I replied with sincerity.

He threw a bar of soap on the ground next to me and gestured toward the creek. He was going to allow me to bathe myself, and despite my repulsive appearance and smell, it was the last thing I wanted to do. I grabbed the bar of soap and crawled toward the water. I couldn’t stand up and I knew damn well he wasn’t going to help me. My hands were the first thing that touched the freezing cold water and the farther I crawled, the more dirt came off my body. I attempted to wash myself as best as I could.

He must have sensed I was ready to get out. “Your hair, too. You hurled all over it.”

I shot him a look of hatred and he laughed at me. “I can’t…please…” I shamelessly begged for mercy. He wasn’t going to show me any, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

He stepped forward, closer to me to where his boots were getting wet. “Please? Are you asking me to take pity on you because you’re a fucking drunk? Whose fault is that, Miss Edwards?!” he sneered, screaming at me even though I was only a few feet away.

No one could have prepared me for what happened next. He ran over to me, grabbed my hair at the top of my head, and dunked me head first into the water. He left me under there for several seconds and I thought this was where he was going to kill me. He was going
to drown me. Before the last breath escaped my lungs, he brought my head back up. I gasped for air and spit out the water from my mouth, trying not to choke. 

“You think just because you apologize it makes everything okay?!” he shouted into the side of my face, and dunked me back under the water before I even realized he let me up.

“Ahhh!” I breathed out when he allowed me to resurface.

“You stupid fucking slut! You stupid cunt! You are nothing but a conniving, dirty, fucking liar! You manipulate everything around you, and the fact that you are trying to do it with me right now–” he yelled and got close to my face “–makes me want to fucking kill you.”

He shoved me back under, but this time, he held me there until I lost the ability to hold my breath. Bubbles of air resurfaced as I fought him with every ounce of willpower and strength I could muster to get him to let me back up, he did, only to dunk me repeatedly.

“Please! I’m so fucking sorry! Please!” I pleaded, trying to catch my breath and voice. He roughly pushed me away with disgust and I fell backward into the water. My foot caught on something and I felt a sharp pain run through my ankle.

“Shut the fuck up and wash your fucking hair, Gianna! Don’t make me come back over there,” he warned.

I found the bar of soap and washed every inch of my body and then my hair, until he told me to stop and get out. It was frigid when I got out of the water. I was still hysterically crying at that point fro
m the confrontation. He threw me a towel and it was barely enough to cover my breasts. 

“Walk,” he once again ordered.

It was as if I was having an out of body experience. I watched myself limp through the field, and then through an old, abandoned asylum. I never once stopped crying. We walked into a new room; I knew it because it didn’t have the same stench. There were bars on every window, but at least there was light. A dirty mattress lay in the middle of the room next to a few bottles of water. In the far right corner, there was a bucket and the dreadful realization that it would be my bathroom.

“Get on the bed.” He sensed my apprehension. “Miss Edwards…” he cautioned. I slowly walked toward the mattress and sat on the edge.