Before I was brought to America, I had spent the first four years of my life within a secluded estate in Berlin. Back then, I wasn't Angel Lastor, but just little Angel and Jude was my everything while I was his.
We spent every hour of every day together. Even during his lessons, I'd be next to him, learning along with him even though I understood nothing until eventually, I understood everything and realized the tutors were all half stupid. Jude always got mad at me whenever I told them that, saying it was rude to call people stupid.
During his free time, we'd play video games and when we got bored of that, we'd tell each other made up stories from our childish imagination. Ben, our bodyguard and my godfather, would often stay with us at night to make sure we slept, otherwise, we'd spend all night playing and talking.
The only times I was ever apart from Jude was whenever he had to attend events, and when he returned, I'd make him tell me everything that happened while eating dessert together.
Jude loved dessert and I loved hearing his stories. It made me the happiest, hearing his stories, even if I had to be alone while he was experiencing them.
When it was decided Jude would move to America to formally begin his studies and attend to the responsibilities he was old enough to bear, he had refused to leave me behind.
They had to physically rip him away from me because he wouldn't let me go. Even when they managed to part us, he continued to fight those who tried to drag him away and only calmed down when they brought me back to him.
It went on for days. He's always been so dramatic, my brother. They only relented to his violent fits when he took me to the roof of the house and threatened to kill us both if they took him away. So I came with him.
I was such a weak and sickly little thing that it took me years to be able to walk by myself. I only ever saw the world from the window and through the television, which was why I had been so excited for the move, even though Jude was dreading it.
It was the first time I was ever allowed to leave the threshold of the house and I couldn't wait to finally exist in the world. I even decided to only speak English because I learned it was the language Americans favored to use the most.
But then we arrived in New York, and I spent the next two years a prisoner of my own home once again. Until the time came for me to start my own studies, outside the lessons I took with private tutors.
It was Father who told me. I remembered it so clearly, that day, because it was the first time he had ever spoken to me. Until then, our only interactions were the Sunday dinners we had together as a family whenever he came home, but no one was allowed to speak at.
Father had gently explained to me how I was born to become everything my brother needed. How the purpose for my existence was to live in service to him. How I must become the pillar to the empire he would one day rule.
Then he asked me what scared me the most. I had readily answered him.
Darkness and being alone.
Even now, I feared these two things the most. My mind became overwhelmed when I couldn't see, and I couldn't bear being anywhere by myself for too long.
After my first week of school, in the middle of our regular Sunday dinner, Father told me I was to begin lessons with him from henceforth.
I was so excited. School had been such an incredible adventure and I couldn't wait to learn from Father like Jude.
When he brought me down to the tunnels beneath the mansion, even though it was dark, I wasn't scared because Father was there. Until he wasn't.
He'd shown me the cell he said now belonged to me and told me to get in. Then he closed the door and bid me goodnight.
I cried for hours. Begged. Screamed. Pissed myself. But he only returned later to bid me a good morning and told me I had done so well. Then he asked me once again what I feared most. That time, I lied and said nothing.
Every Sunday after that, he'd lock me in my cell overnight. Sometimes, whenever I made a mistake, he'd keep me there for longer.
The longest was a month, when I was nineteen and I told him I would no longer whore myself out for his profit.
It has been three days since I woke up in utter darkness.
The cell was smaller now than when I had been a child within it and there was no longer enough space for me to sit or even spread my arms.
The stench of my own filth made it a struggle to breathe. My throat was dry and I tried to ease it by swallowing my saliva but it hurt. I was only given me one glass of water a day and nothing else in an effort to weaken me so I couldn't escape and at night, Father would come and beat me just to make sure I didn't even try.
My injuries were getting worse and I needed to tend to them or they would get infected. Jude had been coming since the first day and again today. I had heard him screaming my name out somewhere close by and fighting the guards, but they had taken him away and everything was quiet again.
It was night again. I could tell because the room was growing colder. Father would be here again soon. The thought of being beaten till I lost consciousness filled me with dread.
Is my dignity worth this torture?
I wanted to keep resisting. I didn't want him to break me but I was so tired of fighting. Either way, I was losing. I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to see Jude.
Crying, I banged against the door again.
"I'll do it," I whispered, my eyes burning. There were no longer tears. I had shed them all. "I'll do it. Please, just let me go. I wanna go home. Please."
No one answered my pleas and I lost consciousness again. I woke up hours later when the door was yanked open. My knees gave out, seeking salvation from the floor. I sensed him raise his arm but I caught the belt with my hand before he could strike me, struggling to even wrap my fingers around it.
"Stop," I whispered. "I'll do it. Just stop, please."
He didn't say anything and just left. One of his guards picked me up and I pathetically clung to him, relief filling me. He took me to my room where Lucille was waiting along with two maids. They kept their eyes down but no matter how much they tried, they couldn't hide their disgust. Towards me, or my father, perhaps even themselves, I didn't know. I didn't care. They didn't either anyway.
They drew me a bath and washed me, ignoring the bruises and cuts splattered all over my body. Afterward, they tended to my injuries and I let them feed, dress, and groom me, too broken to even cling to my pride.
Before they left after tucking me in bed, Lucille placed a syringe beside me. It was morphine. She always gave me morphine, as if it could numb all of my pain.
* * *
I stared out the window, clutching the envelope in my hands. My legs wouldn't move and I was struggling to breathe. The panic attacks had been coming and going since I was put in the cell, lingering even now that I was granted freedom.
I needed to drown myself before it drowned me.
I looked at the seat beside me where a syringe laid. Waiting for me to shove the needle in my veins.
I screwed my eyes shut and let out a series of breaths, telling myself to shut it off. I convinced myself that I was doing my duty. That this was what I was supposed to do. That I was molded for this purpose. That my only use was to be what Father wanted me to be. But no matter how much I told myself all those things, I still felt disgusting and I was no better than the whore who gave birth to me.
I reached for the seatbelt and tied it around my arm, gritting it between my teeth. Tentatively, I picked up the syringe.
My veins were popping and I stopped thinking, pushing the needle into me and letting the drug enter my system.
I let go of the seatbelt, letting out a sigh as my nerves loosened and the pain inside me was replaced with warmth. With one last steadying breath, I exited the car, entering the restaurant.
I caught sight of Jeremy Cranes, the CEO of Cranes Industries, a company that invented and patented a portable device that can produce drinkable water out of salt water, lake water, even piss.
It has been hailed as one of the greatest inventions of this century and the best thing about it was Jeremy Cranes wasn't selling it. He was giving it away.
At 76, money was no longer in his mind. He wanted to leave a legacy. To make a difference. To help those in need. But my father, ever so the opportunist, saw the great potential for profit and has been hounding Cranes for the past year to strike a deal with him. But Cranes was a tough guy to break and turned down every offer he made. Out of cards, Father decided to throw in his last ace. Me.
Gritting my teeth, I smiled at Jeremy Cranes as I sat on the chair across from him.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting, Jeremy," I murmured.
He gave me a tight smile. "It's no trouble, Miss Lastor," he said, glancing behind me. "Where's your father? I thought he was joining us."
"Oh, he got stuck in the office," I said. "But don't worry. I was briefed about the purpose of this meeting. Should we order and discuss the deal?"
He sighed. "Miss Lastor-"
"Angel," I said with a wry smile. "You can call me Angel, Jeremy."
He cleared his throat, nodding. "Angel, I'm going to tell you what I've told your father already. I'm not selling my company."
I reached for his hand, giving it a light squeeze. I detested the feeling of his skin against my fingers.
"Hear me out. That's all I want," I said softly. "And if by the end of this dinner you still don't want to sell, then I'll personally tell my father to leave you alone. Deal?"
He looked down at my hand and I leaned closer, leveling my eyes with his and making sure to hold his gaze. I worked up the smile that never failed to have men and women alike under my command. This old man was no exception.
His eyes were transfixed on me, as if he was a blind man who had only just regained his sight and I knew right then, this was a done deal. I just had to get him to sign the papers.
* * *
The walls adorned flowers on them, painted in a light shade of purple. There were seventy-eight flowers. I knew. I've been counting them over and over again for the past hour while Jeremy Cranes fucked me from behind.
I was numb. Barely conscious. I had morphine to thank for that. But still, I could hear him panting. Feel him touching me. Taste him in my mouth. I wanted to scream at him to stop but I said nothing.
He suddenly shifted, pulling me up while he laid back. He told me to turn around and I did, keeping my eyes focused on his bearded chin as I moved up and down, wanting so badly to cut his fingers off as they roamed all over my body. He grabbed the back of my head and I tried so hard not to vomit as he forced his tongue between my lips.
He pulled out of me and shoved me down, climbing over me to straddle my head and forcing his cock down my throat. He demanded I looked at him and I forced my eyes open, looking up at him.
When my gaze met his, he came and I immediately drew my head back. He spilled his disgusting cum on my face and breasts, muttering about how beautiful and what a whore I was all in the same breath.
As I looked at him, I genuinely wanted to kill him and almost as if he could hear my thoughts, he recoiled from me, fear slithering into his eyes.
I closed my eyes, easing my breathing as I suppressed the urge to tear this filthy scum to pieces until no trace of his worthless existence remained. Father would not be pleased if I caused him trouble.
Jeremy was saying something to me but I couldn't hear him. I had shut myself off. I was too much of a coward to let myself witness what I was letting this man to do me.
No longer able to stand breathing the air he was polluting, I forced myself to get up, wrapping my arms around my broken body as I headed for the bathroom.
"We're done here," I said, turning to look at him. "Sign the papers and get out."
I got into the shower and turned on the water. I let myself fall to the floor, pressing my forehead against the wall. And then I let it out. The tears. The sobs. The scream. The vomit.
* * *
A limo was parked outside the hotel and Father's bodyguard stood beside it. He held the passenger door for me and I wordlessly got in.
I didn't look at him. I didn't even breathe. I just gave him the envelope and got out, hurriedly walking towards the other guard who was standing beside the SUV waiting for me. I snatched the keys from him and didn't waste a second and drove away, heading back home.
I tightened my hold around the steering wheel, struggling to hold back the urge to scream as tears streamed down my face in a relentless current.
When I arrived at my building, I felt weak. When I entered the apartment, I fell. I didn't bother standing.
I hit the ground. I hit it again and again but all it did was break my fingers. I didn't stop. I wanted to tear the fucking world apart.
"What did you do?"
I froze, slowly lifting my head and finding Jude standing in front of me. He fell to his knees, a hand reaching to touch my face.
"What did he make you do, little Angel?"
"He wouldn't let me go." I closed my eyes, clutching my head as I bent over. "He locked me up and wouldn't let me go. It was so dark. I was so scared. I had to. He wouldn't let me go. I just wanted to come home."
He grabbed me by the shoulders, holding me up so he could look at me. I couldn't. I couldn't let him see me.
"Why?!" he screamed at me. "Why didn't you call me? Why did you go with him? Why did you let him do this to you again?"
"I'm sorry," I cried. "I'm sorry."
"This has to end."
He let me go and got to his feet. When he turned, I saw the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans.
"Jude..." I called, staggering to my feet. "Jude, no. Please." I held onto him, keeping him from moving. "Please. Just stay with me. Don't leave me."
His arms came around me, holding me so tightly that I could feel the harsh beating of his heart. And then he screamed and I cried harder because I knew, he could feel my pain.