Chapter Six

Cecilia

Once the filming stopped, I waited with my head held high. I waited for tall man’s retaliation. I waited for whatever they had planned. In my position, I was at an obvious disadvantage and yet I refused to show weakness. With three sets of eyes staring through hockey masks my direction, I remained silent.

For a few minutes, they all gathered around the middle-sized man, watched, and critiqued the video they’d just shot of me. I heard my own voice.

Did it sound strong or would my parents think I was giving in?

Finally, it was the short man who ushered the other two from the room. Before stepping to whatever destination was beyond the threshold, he hit the light switch, covering the room in darkness, and then the three of them were gone.

I was alone.

Time passed.

Too much time.

My sigh of relief at being left alone waned with each passing click of the nonexistent clock. I assumed it was daytime, but I had no way of knowing. Not even light penetrated the plywood-covered windows.

Every now and then I heard a rumbling. It didn’t last long.

Was it thunder?

Was it a train?

I hadn’t heard that noise while in the closet.

Every muscle in my body ached from the way I was bound. Thirst returned first, quickly followed by hunger. I opened and closed my lips and moved my tongue in an attempt to generate saliva. And yet none of those things were my most compelling need—it was the pressure growing in my bladder.

Attempting to think of anything besides my need to relieve myself, I tried to fidget. However, any attempt to move against the rough and scratchy ropes proved painful. My hands and feet had lost feeling. My only option for rest was leaning my head sideways or forward and even caused pain in my neck.

I strained to hear sounds coming from beyond the door, but there were none. At some point, the light coming from below the door disappeared.

Had they left me?

Would they come back?

What if someone else found this place?

What would happen?

I hadn’t even considered being completely alone while in the closet, but now, with the resonating silence, the fear of abandonment continued to grow.

How long would they leave me like this?

The men had said I was a hot commodity and there was a bidding war. If all that were true, surely, they wouldn’t abandon me, not like this.

As I contemplated my three captors, I decided that I wanted the short one to return. There was something about him, a sense of compassion. I wasn’t sure. Compassion was probably contrived in my wishful thoughts. Nevertheless, there was something about him that made it seem that he was in charge. I prayed that when the door opened, it wouldn’t be the tall one with the leather belt.

With thoughts coming and going, I recalled one of them saying something about the boss.

Who was this mysterious boss?

And what did they mean that I was going on the dark web?

I’d hated my image in tabloid news my entire life, but even the lies they published about my drug usage—I never had, my addiction to alcohol and pain killers—nope, or my sexual exploits—another no, didn’t compare to the idea that a video of me bound, nude, and pleading to my parents would be viewed by an unknown number of people.

What kind of people viewed videos on the dark web?

As I remained in my thoughts, I struggled with what I’d said. I was twenty-nine years old, and I was calling out to my dad and mom for help.

One thought led to another. My mind moved from life decision to life decision with no clear path. Sleep finally took me away from my pain and torment, taking me to places where smiles and frowns were visible, where people cared for me and I cared for them.

When I woke, my cheeks were wet with tears and my temples throbbing.

I’d been dreaming about my mother.

What was she going through?

And my father’s reaction to the video.

Of course, he’d be relieved that I was alive, but what would he do to find me?

And my grandfather.

While I didn’t operate in the other family business, I knew my grandfather wielded great power. Would he burn New York to the ground to find me?

Was I even still in New York?

It was as these questions circled around my thoughts that I realized there was again light coming from under the door. The men were back or at least one of them was. It wasn’t my pain, thirst, or hunger that was my breaking point, the thing to make me call out to them.

It was my bladder.

“Hey, come in here,” I called.

No response.

“Please, come in here.”

No response.

I had a new thought—could someone else hear me if I yelled?

Why hadn’t I tried that?

My scream echoed off the walls, reverberating in my temples. I hadn’t really said a word, just a high-pitched yell.

Nothing.

“Fine.” My voice remained loud. “I’m going to keep screaming. Someone will hear.” My bladder reminded me of my need. “When I piss all over this chair, you’ll have to clean up the mess.”

My breath caught at the sound of the doorknob. I must have said the right thing. Again, I was only seeing a silhouette standing in the light of the open doorway.

“Untie me. I need to pee.”

My eyes squinted against the light as the silhouette hit the light switch. The overhead fixture wasn’t large or even that bright. However, its contrast to darkness suddenly seemed overwhelming. As the man came closer, I realized he was the short one, the one I’d wanted.

What do they say about being careful about what you wish for?

“Please untie me.”

He didn’t say a word as he walked around the chair. Three circles were completed as he continued to stare through the holes of the hockey mask. Finally, he came to a stop in front of me.

“No.”

My heart dropped. “Please, I know you’re in charge. I’ll go back to the closet and stay quiet.”

“Scream all you want. No one can hear you but us. Yell to your fucking heart’s content.”

Another hope dashed. “Where are we?”

He didn’t answer my question. Instead his response shook me. “Pee.”

“What?”

He tilted his face. “Come on, princess, piss yourself.”

His declaration was unthinkable, degrading, and demoralizing. “I-I...”

“Okay,” he said, turning away. “I can wait.”

“Why are you doing this?” My question stopped his retreat.

He turned back to me. “You’re a job, princess, nothing more and nothing less. Don’t flatter yourself to think you’re any different than any other rich bitch. And for the record, you’re not better than the poor ones either. So get off your fucking high horse.”

“So it’s your job to humiliate me?”

“No. That’s my bonus.” The man again turned away.

“You can’t touch me, can you?”

His head shook, but he didn’t turn back.

“If you could, you would.”

Laughter that chilled my skin rang through the room.

“So fucking conceited,” he said as he turned. “I don’t need to fuck you to know you’re an ice princess, and I’d get better action from my hand.”

“I’m sure you do.”

His hands at his sides balled into fists, but he didn’t step closer. Finally, he spoke, “Prove it.”

I couldn’t feel my hands or feet, my body ached with pain I’d never before known, and this asshole wanted me to prove something.

“Prove what?”

“Show me that you’re not some spoiled brat, that you’re capable of behaving, and that you don’t place yourself on some pedestal.” He tipped his head toward my core. “Piss yourself.”

This was beyond my comprehension.

“My position isn’t degrading enough for you?”

His head shook.

I closed my eyes, wishing I could hide behind my eyelids.

The sound of his footsteps alerted me that he was walking away.

How long would he leave me like this?

If I complied, would he untie me?

Releasing muscles, I did what seconds before seemed incomprehensible. As tears coated my cheeks, I allowed myself to urinate. The strong odor that came from urine that had been held too long filled the air.

Once the gate was open, I didn’t stop.

Warm urine filled the vinyl chair, coated my thighs, and dripped to the floor. The relief couldn’t outweigh the overwhelming sense of degradation.

When I opened my eyes, short man was back, in front of me. All I could see were his expressionless eyes. “Are you happy?” I asked.

He scoffed. “Not yet.” With that, he turned and began walking toward the door.

“Hey, I did what you wanted.”

He didn’t stop as he turned off the light.

New tears of frustration bubbled in sobs from my chest. “Stop. Untie me, please.”

The door closed leaving me alone with my humiliation, aching body, and the stench of urine.