Page 60 of Bonita Brynne
When would I get out of this place?
“When God? When will my dad and the club find me?” I hollered but doubted I was heard.
Soon, the girl would come…. I hoped. Even with a missing pinky, I thought she was cute. She seemed younger than seventeen. We were about the same height, five foot seven. Was that tall for a girl?
She hardly made eye contact, but when our gazes connected, I couldn’t breathe. She shouldn’t be there like a servant. Where were her parents? Had she been stolen like me?
“I swear God, my club better rescue both of us.” I fisted my hand and shook it up to the ceiling. If she didn’t have a family, she could stay with me. I would be her family and protect her.
At the sound of the door unlocking, I popped up. Twice a day, she brought me water and food. She never said much, but I had a feeling she wanted to talk. She was just afraid to with the guards standing in the hallway. Maybe today, she would be brave and take a risk.
The door opened and she entered. There was a new bruise on her face.
Anger spread in my chest. “What happened?” I pointed at her face.
“Sir wants you to shower and get cleaned up.” She set a sack of food on the mattress and a water bottle.
“Am I going home?” God, I prayed she said yes.
“I need to handcuff you so you can get cleaned up.” She always avoided answering my questions. “Lift your arms.”
I did, wincing through the pain in my ribs.
She took off my shirt and unbuttoned my pants.
“Hey. Stop.”
“You can’t shower with pants on,” she snipped.
“Don’t take off my boxers.” My heart rate kicked up.
“Have to.” She tugged my pants down roughly, and my pecker flopped out, shriveled in fear. “Step out of them.”
Crap! “Tell me what’s going on?” I whispered as she put the metal cuffs on my wrists. Thankfully, she didn’t look at my body. The only girl who’d seen me naked was my mom years ago when I was too young to bathe myself.
“You’re leaving in the middle of the night.” She spoke so quietly that I barely heard her.
“Home?”
She nodded. “Do what they say.” She went to the door. “He’s ready.”
Two masked men entered the room and grabbed me by the biceps. “Come on.”
I did as they said and didn’t struggle. They took me into the grungiest bathroom I’d ever seen and shoved me into the shower stall. Why hadn’t they let me use the toilet instead of a pail, which was humiliating? I hadn’t taken a dump because I didn’t want her to see my turds when she emptied the bucket.
“Be quick,” one muttered. “And scrub all his crevices.” He laughed.
Quick about what?
She turned on the water, and the rush of cold made my dick shrink even more. “Sorry,” she said as she poured shampoo on my head and washed my hair. “I don’t want to do this, but they’re forcing me. If I don’t do as they say, I’ll get beat or worse…”
I lowered my head to help her out. She wouldn’t get hit on account of me. “How can I help you?”
She stopped and stared into my eyes. The sadness in her blue orbs almost made me cry. “You can’t.”
Our faces were a breath away. My chest tightened. I wanted to help her, maybe kiss her. “Yes, I can.” Though I hadn’t kissed a girl before, I would figure it out.
“I wish you could.” Her soapy hand moved down my neck, and her eyes remained locked on mine.