A GENTLEMAN'S LOVE.

1.3.ESCAPE

Suddenly, it was painful, pain cutting through me more deeply than ever before. Too painful to bear, invoking explosions of screams which were then swallowed by the thick walls. The man was pushing himself hard and forcefully inside me, and I couldn't take the pain. The pain was unbearable. Felt like being stabbed with sharp knives over and over. A thousand times.

''Take it out, take it out, I begged as bolts of pain exploded within me. My screams filling the room did not stop the man; instead, it became even more painful as the man got harder and stronger, pulsing inside me like a possessed Alpha, propelled by my screams. He lashed at my back, thrilled by my screams. The objects and toys that felt appealing at first sight now looked like weapons used for torture. Nobody heard my screaming, not even the man violating my innocence. And even if they did, no one would come to my rescue. I was doomed, and I knew it.

I panted in agony, shaking my head. “Please stop,” I begged as heat crawled up my face and my body gave up. Weak and numb with no more energy to fight back. I can't breathe. He withdrew and thrust again and again, huffing and sweating on my back. Then came the humiliating and shameful insults. ''Oh, you are so sweet, and you are mine first.'' The man kept licking and violating my body. My cries of pain and agony were ignored. He scowled, his ugly face grouchy as he came. I could feel the stickiness of his release on my back, leaving a disgusting impression on my mind.

Arousing pain and shameful feelings in me. It was dreadful. All I could do was cry. ''You are so dirty for a child.'' The words hit my brain like a shockwave, and they imprint on my mind. ''I am dirty.'' and it seemed to take forever to erase it. The man kept saying dirty, humiliating words as he violated my innocence painfully. Destroying my soul. The man used me to fulfill all his s****l fantasies until early the next morning and left before the sun came up. Too shameful to be seen in that neighborhood. Most were probably married. They always left early. The man closed the doors behind him, not looking back at the fragile, limbless body covered in blood. He walked away, his head held high, with no guilt. The fact that he acted as if it were all normal, a common occurrence, broke my heart.

He left me there on the cold floor, broken and in pain, covered in pee, blood, and semen. Bleeding from the head to the toes. Every part of my body was bruised and aching. I lay there in pain, crying my eyes out. I felt dirty and disgusted with myself. The horrible names my greedy uncle called me. They all came true. Maybe he had seen into my future. I lay there covered in blood and tears, mute, resting my cheeks on the cold, dumb floor. Time passed, in minutes, hours, and days, and the silence seeped into my heart, weighing heavily and meddling with my spirit. Making me wish to be dead.

My feet felt cold. I couldn't feel my toes. I forced myself to stand up, but I couldn’t. My wounds were not healing. I could smell the rot of festering wounds in the air. If not for Enzo, that would have been my end, like all the others before me and after.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around my knees to hold in my body heat. The air was cold, the floor was cold, and my feet and hands felt numb, frozen. My body felt weak, my runny nose and throat felt dry and painful. Every attempt to open my mouth brought a bitter, painful taste to my throat. I huddled in the silent room, hugging my knees; the dark wasn’t worse than the cold; I couldn’t get warm. I couldn't sleep. I curled and fell into a nightmare. I kept running, but the monsters caught me every time.

My back ached, my shoulders protested, I couldn't get up, my stomach screamed, and I couldn't force sleep anymore. The hunger was unbearable. I cried out in pain, and that was when he was allowed to come for me. Tortured, starved until you are begging, and when you are about to die, they then come in like heroes. That's how they broke and controlled us.

I heard the door open, then someone talking. ''Go get him, I think he is now ready'' I heard Anton talking. I felt warm hands on me as he gently turned me towards him. His eyes were red. ''Enzo ?'' I called his name weakly, and a tear dropped from his eyes. ''I am sorry I couldn’t stop this. I am sorry'' he kept apologizing, embracing me gently.

Anton scowled as he walked out of the room, '' So fake, clean him up. He stinks, and then the room once you are done. He walked out, murmuring about how he trusted no one.

My ribs ached, and I winced in pain as he tried to make me stand up, but I fell, and he wrapped his arms around me in time, holding me close to his chest. Enzo's body was warm, so warm I burrowed into him, needing the heat, seeking to feel safe in his embrace, and the tears came. I cried my heart out, hot tears leaking from my eyes, and he gently wiped my face. I could see a sign of relief on his face; he was waiting for me to cry out. He said comforting words, trying to calm me down. Crying was a good sign. I would survive.

Disoriented and dizzy, he carried me into the bathroom and helped me bathe, cut my hair, and apply medicine to my wounds. I had to get myself together. Nobody was coming to save me. I managed to convince myself, and with that mindset, I ate something. I don’t remember what it was, but it was warm. I remember feeling the warmth, then falling asleep. I slept well until the next morning. Enzo must have mixed something in it. That night I didn't dream.

I woke up on a small bed, soft and warm. It had to be Enzo’s room. His clothes were hung there. It was simple but neat.

I usually slept for fifteen minutes at most, then dreamed of monsters and woke up screaming each time. But this time I slept. He comforted me throughout the night. I ended up staying with him in that little room. I never felt safe anywhere else.

My breath wheezed, and I sneezed. The morning air was cold. I ran my hands through my face and winced from the pain of cuts; my lips were ripped. I sat up, ignoring the pain in my ribs, and walked towards the mirror to look at myself, my reflection. I stared at my pale, hollow-eyed, battered reflection, blinking away the tears that welled in my eyes. My arms were bruised, the lash cuts were everywhere, my tummy, my back, my arms. The disgust and pain I felt while looking at myself were overwhelming. I walked back and curled up in bed. I couldn't let anyone see me like that. I stayed blank and quiet for weeks, contemplating my fate, whether to kill myself or escape.

For a month, I healed slowly. Faked weakness and studied the place. The club was owned by a very bulky man with a bad reputation for hating our color. ''Beat them to submission, he had ordered.'' Maybe that's why everyone treated us as slaves, even though slavery had been abolished. The humiliation. I couldn’t stop thinking about it; I couldn't stop remembering. That’s when I decided to run. And take him with me. I couldn't leave him behind.

That morning, when I decided to escape, a risk I was willing to take was for both of us. I wasn't the only one needing rescue. He didn't know, but he had to be rescued. Compared to my chocolate skin, his skin was much lighter than mine. He was born here. He was one of them. They should have treated him better, but he suffered just the same. There was no difference; color didn't matter.

Enzo came back injured and bleeding, not very much different from what I went through. I helped him bathe, cleaned his wounds, and applied medicine. I could see it in his glazed eyes. He was suppressing himself, trying to be strong enough for both of us. He couldn't let himself cry. Only much later did I find out why. His story was much more disheartening. He wasn't much older than me when his drunk wife, beating, manic father, sold him to the club. He couldn't let himself cry; there was no help coming. And he knew it.

And once I let the idea sink in and settle into my mind. I felt free and calm, and finally, I changed my mindset. Setting us free was something within my power, or so I thought. Hope trickled into my chest — there was hope. There was an opening, a chance to slip away.

I wasn't that learned, but not only was I brilliant, but I also had a very vivid mind. I never forgot what I had seen.

For the months I planned, I gathered all the information needed for our escape. The club building structures, all the entries, and exits were all stored in my mind like a present memory.

I managed to form connections with almost all the workers and knew perfectly when the guards exchanged their rounds. The only thing I was not sure about was that Enzo had not saved enough to bribe the guard on duty that night, but the escape had to happen. It was now or never.