Her terrified eyes shifted from mine to the two pills lying on the floor and back. Holding my gaze, she felt for them and closed her fist around them.

“Hold them out to me.”

She did, her hand trembling, her eyes locked on mine.

“You want to swallow these, or do you want me to shove them up your ass?” I sounded calm, as if I had full control of myself. Little did she know that was when I was at my worst. When rage owned me.

She studied me, perhaps unable to speak.

“Ass it is,” I said, making to rise and dragging her with me. But by the time we were standing, those pills had disappeared down her throat, and she gripped my forearm, trying to relieve the pressure on her hair. “Open.”

She did, and I turned her head this way and that to make sure she’d swallowed. She had.

I released her, and she stumbled backward.

“I owe you one,” I said, referring to a punishment, but from the look on her face, she didn’t get it. I headed to the door.

“Wait.”

I unlocked it and pulled it open. I’d bandage my hand while the pills did their work.

Gia moved toward me and then stopped.

“Go lay down,” I told her.

She’d be out soon. The dosage was probably too high. She was a little thing. I’d guess maybe 115 pounds soaking wet.

“Please let me go,” she managed.

I took her by the arm and walked her to the bed, picked her up, and placed her on top of it.

She pulled her knees into her chest, and my eyes fell again on the scab that had formed on her hip. Something about that worried me. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what I found once the wound fully healed.

I met her gaze again. Our eyes locked, hers searching, uncertain.

She reached for the blanket, pulling it toward her. Her fingertips touched mine when I took hold of it and dragged it away.

Warmth was a privilege earned, and she had in no way earned it.

She shivered. “Please. I’m so cold.”

I looked at her and shook my head.

“Don’t fight me, Gia,” I whispered. “You won’t win.”

2

Gia

I drifted in and out of sleep. There were moments of lucidity, and it seemed I’d just be gone for a while, as if I’d stepped away from the conversation, then picked it up again like it hadn’t happened at all, like I hadn’t just nodded off. How long did this go on?

I recalled my last night with Victor. I’d sworn to myself that I would not be a victim. I wouldn’t allow him to make me one. The memory of it made me shudder.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.