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Authors: Amy Rachiele, Christine Leporte
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returns and I flinch when he reaches down to pick me up again. The room spins as a wave of dizziness wins over my senses. He carries me to the bathroom, shutting the door with his foot. He strips me naked, removing the clean clothes that were just put on me. I let him. I take the opportunity to really examine my body. I am bruised all over—legs, thighs, stomach, breasts, arms.
The mirror is above the porcelain sink. I stare at myself, unrecognizable with puffy eyes, cheeks, and lips. I look like I went three rounds in a boxing ring. Horror rips through me at my own reflection. Priest steers me away and faces me toward the tub instead. I stand unassisted on my favorite rug while he checks the temperature, dipping his hand into the water.
Neither one of us has spoken. I don’t have the energy to say anything. And the only thing I could say would involve letting him know how much I hate him.
Taking my hand, he guides me into the warm water and I sit down. Waves and ripples of water envelop me. I close my eyes at the relief that just a simple tepid bath offers on the throbbing parts of my body.
Grabbing a cloth off the shelf behind the toilet, Priest kneels again, this time outside the tub by my side. In all the years I’ve known him, he has never knelt before me in such a submissive way. Two times in an hour; his guilt must be heavy.
Wetting the cloth, he gently rubs all of the areas of my body, cleaning me. Is this an apology? Is this his conscience rising to the surface? Is the boy I knew as a child coming forth through the callous man’s body?
My head slumps back against the tub and I let him clean me with feather-light touches. I’m so tired, my body so worn, that I allow myself to drift into a semi-sleep. It isn’t contented like it should be, my mind running rampant with what is to come next. My head reels with all the things I can’t forgive him for and for all the things I can’t change. For so many years, I let him control me just like the others here who are hiding in their rooms afraid. If we were just a minute or two earlier, Kylie may have been able to get me to a hospital. But in a twisted sadistic way Priest always prevails no matter what form he comes in, friend or foe. The master always wins.
Chapter 10
Carlo
“The house always wins,” I mutter to the lanky guy I’m dragging out of the casino. He was counting cards. Gilly caught him on the bank of monitors in the lower level. He attempts to slip out of my hold. Now he is in front of me. My fist is full of his orange shirt.
“I didn’t do anything!” He’s stumbling out because he can’t keep up with me. “You can’t do this!” He tries to steal a glance behind him to talk to me face-to-face but I shove him forward, knocking him into the sliding doors. Out on the sidewalk, I take hold of his shirt, again spinning him around, his blond curls flopping forward on his head.
“Do I look fucking stupid to you?” I accuse. “Do you think we’ve never had a counter here before? We didn’t get to where we are by letting pieces of shit like you run our tables down. Go find another casino to cheat. Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops!”
Stupid son of a bitch! I walk back inside shaking my head. Same shit, different day.
I see Alex, his long legs stretched out to the side as he drinks a beer from the bar.
“So?” he asks.
“So what?” I wonder.
“What about what happened today? Mike is coming by to take a statement from your pop.”
I shrug my shoulders. I really don’t know what to think about what happened this morning. Caesar is a sicko or fucking brilliant. He got the cult fuckers arrested… and himself.
“Caesar will pay off a cop. He’s probably already out.”
“He looked fucking ridiculous in that get-up. All blue and shit, like he is some saint.” Alex lifts his beer to his lips, chuckling. I put my hand on his forearm, stopping him. A light bulb goes off in my head.
“Jesus Christ! This isn’t
The mirror is above the porcelain sink. I stare at myself, unrecognizable with puffy eyes, cheeks, and lips. I look like I went three rounds in a boxing ring. Horror rips through me at my own reflection. Priest steers me away and faces me toward the tub instead. I stand unassisted on my favorite rug while he checks the temperature, dipping his hand into the water.
Neither one of us has spoken. I don’t have the energy to say anything. And the only thing I could say would involve letting him know how much I hate him.
Taking my hand, he guides me into the warm water and I sit down. Waves and ripples of water envelop me. I close my eyes at the relief that just a simple tepid bath offers on the throbbing parts of my body.
Grabbing a cloth off the shelf behind the toilet, Priest kneels again, this time outside the tub by my side. In all the years I’ve known him, he has never knelt before me in such a submissive way. Two times in an hour; his guilt must be heavy.
Wetting the cloth, he gently rubs all of the areas of my body, cleaning me. Is this an apology? Is this his conscience rising to the surface? Is the boy I knew as a child coming forth through the callous man’s body?
My head slumps back against the tub and I let him clean me with feather-light touches. I’m so tired, my body so worn, that I allow myself to drift into a semi-sleep. It isn’t contented like it should be, my mind running rampant with what is to come next. My head reels with all the things I can’t forgive him for and for all the things I can’t change. For so many years, I let him control me just like the others here who are hiding in their rooms afraid. If we were just a minute or two earlier, Kylie may have been able to get me to a hospital. But in a twisted sadistic way Priest always prevails no matter what form he comes in, friend or foe. The master always wins.
Chapter 10
Carlo
“The house always wins,” I mutter to the lanky guy I’m dragging out of the casino. He was counting cards. Gilly caught him on the bank of monitors in the lower level. He attempts to slip out of my hold. Now he is in front of me. My fist is full of his orange shirt.
“I didn’t do anything!” He’s stumbling out because he can’t keep up with me. “You can’t do this!” He tries to steal a glance behind him to talk to me face-to-face but I shove him forward, knocking him into the sliding doors. Out on the sidewalk, I take hold of his shirt, again spinning him around, his blond curls flopping forward on his head.
“Do I look fucking stupid to you?” I accuse. “Do you think we’ve never had a counter here before? We didn’t get to where we are by letting pieces of shit like you run our tables down. Go find another casino to cheat. Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops!”
Stupid son of a bitch! I walk back inside shaking my head. Same shit, different day.
I see Alex, his long legs stretched out to the side as he drinks a beer from the bar.
“So?” he asks.
“So what?” I wonder.
“What about what happened today? Mike is coming by to take a statement from your pop.”
I shrug my shoulders. I really don’t know what to think about what happened this morning. Caesar is a sicko or fucking brilliant. He got the cult fuckers arrested… and himself.
“Caesar will pay off a cop. He’s probably already out.”
“He looked fucking ridiculous in that get-up. All blue and shit, like he is some saint.” Alex lifts his beer to his lips, chuckling. I put my hand on his forearm, stopping him. A light bulb goes off in my head.
“Jesus Christ! This isn’t
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