To Be Owned...

This story is very heartfelt to me and it goes out to anyone who has ever had to fight for the will to live.

For my very own Angel.

PB for the friendship and making my life seem a little less extreme.

*****

Loretta

"Who are you? What the fuck are you doing in my club?" The dark harsh voice growls in my ear.

I'm fucked this time.

I've spent countless hours huddled in my exact same spot hiding under the internal stairs at the back of this club. A broken window latch my entrance and exit. My one true peace from a life on the streets and now it's all about to be taken away from me.

I squirm and wriggle forcing his hands to slip off my too narrow shoulders as I break my way out of his soft but firm grip, nows my chance to run. Freedom only steps away.

A hard arm wraps around me from behind, dragging me up to stand on my tiptoes. Gasping I look up into the most startling pair of blue eyes and shock hits me in waves. This man looks like an angel white-blonde hair, delicate but manly features, strong firm nose, soft full lips.

"You're a girl? What the fuck?" He grunts getting the first close look at my drawn face.

Yeah, I'm a girl I think sarcastically to myself, waiting for the pawing to start, the hands rnovelg across my body, taking what isn't freely given. For the abuse and rape to start all over again.

Pressure buzzing in my ears, lack of air making the room spin, spots forming behind my eyes. Oh, shit, my mind scrambles I'm going down, the familiar blackness invading, the fucked up part of me that started me down my road to homeless. The imperfection that has caused everyone I have ever trusted to turn their backs on me.

Epilepsy the silent relationship killer.

As my thoughts blur and my vision starts to fade I hear a grunt and a muttered curse word as my body starts to drop for the count, only the strong arm wrapped around my neck supporting me.

My last conscious thought plays through my mind, please let me die this time...

Miki

"Seth! Get the fuck in here." I below. What the fuck is this? This little slip of a woman, hiding under my stairs and now cradle in my arms like a baby just had the seizure of all seizures.

Where the fuck did she come from and who the fuck let her in? She's filthy hair mattered in dirt to the point that I can't tell what shade it is, too large clothes sagging off her frame, tiny little bare feet and hands her toes and fingers twitching and jerking with the last movements of the seizure that by rights would kill anyone else.

I don't have time for this, I have a business to run for fuck's sake. I can't stand around and hold on to this girl forever no matter how right her light frame feels in my arms.

"M, what's up?" Seth slowly walks closer to me a look of puzzlement on his face. "What you got there? Oh wait is that a chick?"

"Yeah, it's a chick and before you ask nah dunno who she is or what the fuck she's doing here. I'm running late to meet the Italian's take her to the back room and put her on the bed. I'll deal with her later." I bark out passing her over to him at the same time.

"Want me to clean her first? She fucking stinks." Seth's face screws up looking down at the slip of a girl.

"Don't fucking touch her." I bark out the sudden protective streak I feel towards this girl has me gritting my teeth this is the last fucking thing I need.

"Sure thing boss. Whatever you say." I can see the amusement on his face over my reaction. To be honest, I don't really give a shit I seen her first so I'm going to be the one to figure out this puzzle. I always did love a good puzzle.

"Lock the door," I yell out over my shoulder as I head for the door. I don't want anyone messing with her I silently add.

*****

Hours later

Loretta

I come to slowly, my brain fogging, my mouth opens on a scream, the agony of knives stabbing into what's left of my brain, my whole body aching from the roots of my hair to the soles of my feet. Not an inch of me is relaxed every muscle jumping and twitching, stretched to the max after yet another fit, a seizure that takes every ounce of my self-control away, every spec of my self-defence, the burden I've carried with me since childhood.

I glance around the barely lit room, my eyes struggling to take in the sight of a tall shadow propped in the corner watching me. I scramble back on the soft bed until my back hits the wall. Shaking in fear, I'm alone in the dark with a man, my worst fear comes back to haunt me. Slowly I slide my hands over my clothes, I'm still dressed for now. So this sick freak must like his prey awake and alert just like the other one. He wants me vulnerable, unable to use my body to fight in my post-seizure state.

"Don't look at me like that girl... I haven't touched you." The same deep voice from before growls as he stands to walk towards me. He pauses in his step as my arms instinctively come up to cover my face in defence of the blows surely to follow.

A harsh, disgusted grunt breaks free from his mouth.

The disgust I understand, I am disgusting, I'm covered in filth the most of it intentionally put on my skin the dirtier I am the less likely anyone will touch me. For a split second, I feel shame over my appearance. It doesn't last long the next words out of his mouth drive every feeling but dread out of my system.

"I've called a Doctor to come check you over." He slowly quietly states from the same spot. Not moving any closer to me.

My heart jumps, my head shakes, my mouth opens in denial not that I use words, I haven't been allowed to use my own voice in so long I can't remember the sound of it. My brain screams no, it's denial to going back, No Doctors they will lock me up again, I've spent the last two years of my life living on the streets fearing someone finding me. Of the relentless dark, of all the medications, of being nothing but a plaything to use and abuse. I won't have it again, my eyes dart around the room looking for anything I can use landing on a packing knife sitting on a stack of open boxes. With a blink of an eye, I dart off the bed and scope it up, slamming my back against the wall, pressing the sharp point to my wrist, holding it firm, not in a warning but as an example of what I'm willing do to end it.

A barked "What are you doing girl?" Drags my eyes up to his now furiously harsh face.

My head shakes, my fingers tremble as I press the blade firmer, pleasing with my eyes, begging the only way I know how to now.

"You don't want a Doctor? Ok, ok, put the knife down and no Doctor." His words are soft-spoken now, pity dripping off them, trying to convince me to trust in him. I won't the last person I tried to trust had me locked away for years.

I shake my head again, my eyes turning downward to watch the knife cut a little deep the blood pool under the blade, my whole focus on finally finishing my life of misery.

I fail in my one tracked focus to notice him approaching me again until hard fingers clamp down on my wrist squeezing hard, painfully hard and with a sob the blade falls from my fingers. Another sob soon follows, and then another over and over I cry, shaking so hard my bones are rattling in my body, pouring out the agony of a life I no longer want to live. The heavy shaking unstoppable the cries and sobs never-ending.

Strong arms lifting me from the floor, cradling me gently, rocking me on the spot for what feels like hours.

Whispering soft nonsense in my ear. Protecting me from myself.

After a while, I start to listen to the words and a strange feeling flutters in my chest, hope I think. Is this what hope feels like?

"Now, now girl, it will be alright, you are safe here I promise. I won't hurt you." The words sink into my soul. My shaking trails off to the odd jerk. My sobs occasionally trickling out.

He clears his throat, shifting from foot to foot, unclear what to do with me now I've stopped crying my heart out. I make this man feel awkward, the thought almost makes me smile, this strong, hard man is awkward around a homeless fucked up, filthy, tiny me.

I tap his arm to signal him to put me down with a tilt of my head. He slowly stands me on my feet like I'm fragile, made of glass and ready to snap. It's not that far from the truth.

"Would you like a shower?" The random question burst from his throat as though he can't control his mouth around me. Something I've noticed before my lack of words often makes others feel more open. They tell me all the dark horrible things they know I'll never repeat.

I look down at my dirty clothes pulling them out from my skin and grimacing.

Looking up at him, I shrug. As I convey the uselessness of washing and only having dirty clothes to put back on.

He gets it this man, he understands my unspoken words. "I'll grab you one of my t-shirts until we get you some clothes."

Ok, I nod my head still look downward at my feet. He gently picks me up again and carries me to the side of the room into a little door tucked in the corner I didn't notice before. He swings it open and stands me on my feet in the middle of the small bathroom. Pausing in front of me I feel his eyes on my face questioning, wondering what in my life has pushed me to the point of wanting to end my misery, I doubt he would even be able to fathom the horrible things done to me, the things I've been forced to do to protect myself, to survive the best I can.

"So umm. Do you need help?" Once again the man is feeling awkward around me, unsure how to treat me.

I'm fast to shake my head in a vigorous no. The thought of anyone's hands on me, removing my clothes has me almost gagging. I've never let anyone willingly touch me before and I'm not about to start with this strange man. Even if he has been nice so far, I don't trust anyone. Everyone is out to use and abuse when they can. It's life as I know it protects yourself.

"Ok, I'll be in the other room." He spins on his heal fast, exiting the small room as quickly as he can and taking all the warmth with him.

My tired body starts to wilt, the shaking back full force in the chilly air. I lean forward and start the shower and turning it to the hottest setting. Peeling off my filthy clothes I stuff them in a small bin under the sink, the smell of them making me grimace. I save the plain black bra and panties taking them in the shower with me to clean, needing some small item of my own still.

Standing under the hot spray as I tilt my head back, letting the heat pound down on me, soaking the layers of dirt, turning the water brown and sludgy. I lather my hair three times with the apple-scented shampoo, scrubbing as hard as my weak limbs will let me. Repeating the process over my body dragging the bar of soap over and over again on my skin. washing away the only barrier I've really ever known.

Exposing my soft pale skin to the light of the room almost sets panic in.

I step out of the shower wrapping a dark blue towel around myself, I spot a comb new in a packet sitting on a shelf beside the sink, I start to try and unravel the birds nest of knots and snags. Growling I yank and pull as the comb gets stuck. Smacking my hand in frustration on the sink.

I pause at a soft knock on the door, looking down at myself to make sure the majority of my scars are covered, besides my arms, tracked with long thin scars crisscrossing across down the way to the tips of my fingers.

I slowly pull the door open a little.

"Everything ok? I brought you a shirt." He tells me as he flaps it in the gap in the door. Nodding my head I take it from his fingers and step back to pull it over my head. I pull the door further open to show him the comb stuck in my hair.

Without a word, firm but gentle hands turn me towards the sink as he starts to work on the mess, little tugs, and brushes of fingers the only things I feel to even let me know.

"I'm guessing you won't tell me where you come from?" He asks, nope I won't so a small shake of my head is the answer. "How about a name? I can't keep calling you girl forever." He says it as though I'm not going anywhere. Like I'm here to stay. A little pool of warmth starts to build in my stomach.

Automatically I start to shake my head, it's not that I won't give him a name I just won't talk, not just to him but to anyone. Talking always brought pain. I glance at the foggy mirror in front of me an idea popping in my brain.

Reaching forward with one shaking finger I trace my name in childlike writing on the surface.

"Retta?" I nod to his question. "OK, Retta you can call me M or Miki. One day Retta you will tell me how you came to be living under my stairs in my club, but not today, it's time to eat and get some sleep." I slowly nod my head.

Miki

What the fuck have I gotten myself into now, I wonder watching the woman across from me poke at a piece of carrot floating in her soup. She's definitely a woman, young and petite, I would say about 20 maybe a little older... Which makes me at least twice her age. I have the strange compulsion to lecture her on playing with her food, but to me, she isn't doing it for any reason but curiosity, its as though she doesn't understand what it is.

Sighing, I place my spoon down beside the bowl and wipe my mouth on a neatly folded napkin. I sit back to study her poke and prod her food chasing the vegetables around and around in the bowl with almost childlike curiosity.

Without all the muck and filth coating her she's quite beautiful, heart-shaped face, arched eyebrows, deep blue-green eyes, full pouty pink lips and a button nose, her hair unmatted, shiny and thick a light brown almost blonde the shade that would end up with its own natural highlights with time spent under the sun.

I see the scars she keeps trying to hide by pulling on the t-shirt sleeves, deep old wounds that had never healed properly never had medical care. Even with her reaction to the idea of a Doctor checking her over I know she didn't do them to herself, it wouldn't be possible for her to cut that deep and that precise across both arms, somebody did it to her, somebody tortured this slip of a woman, and judging from her reactions, her inability to speak, general mannerisms and physical signs it went on for a very long time.

I want to avenge her, to cause as much pain to the ones who hurt her as they did to her, strip them of their dignity and place a blade in her hand. Let her seek her own little slice of justice, in the world I live in, the code I live by an eye for an eye is fair play. I'll find a way to make this better for her, I don't know why I care she's just one more homeless in a city with more than its fair share. But this girl is different she is under my care now.

"Try it Retta, its called soup, its a mixture of vegetables, water, chicken and herbs, nothing that will hurt you." I coax.

With a puzzled look, she lifts the spoon to her lips, opening her mouth with a flash of white teeth and I shift in my seat for what she does next has every depraved thought in my mind coming to the surface, instead of tipping the spoon full of soup into her mouth as anyone else would do I spot the flicker of a little pink tongue dipping its way into the pool of soup on the spoon, lapping away like a cat.

For fuck's sake, my cock instantly jerks, beating with a life of its own watching that slide of her nimble little tongue dip in and out. Bringing my hand up I rub my face, this is too much the girl is unknowingly sexy, provoking the beast in me.

My self-control stretched to the point of snapping I grunt. Gaining her attention.

Loretta

I pause, he made a funny noise, he's looking at me. I feel shame, all of a sudden it washes over me. I upset my angel man. I don't want to upset him, he might try and hurt me if I do, every time I've upset anyone before pain always follows.

I hunch my shoulders, tucking myself in smaller, I stare down at the bowl the food forgotten, the need to protect myself rising high within me, I glance up at him, seeing a look of puzzlement I freeze.

"Like this little one, you scoop the soup up and put the whole lot in your mouth." I follow his spoon with my eyes, watching the path it takes to his lips. I feel a flush run up my cheeks it feels almost wrong watching him with such intensity. I like the way it makes me feel good and bad.

I nod in agreement and try it his way. Much easier, I smile just a little it feels foreign on my face, new and different.

"Good?" He asks and I nod my head it really is good, I've never had soup before they stopped giving me liquids after I had a seizure and nearly died mid drink of juice.

We finish eating in silence and end up just looking at each other across the table, I feel awkward, utterly out of place, I'm not used to people caring about me about my well being, I feel the need to show this pale angel my appreciation. There is really only one way I know how to do this, it's what everyone has always expected of me, so I don't know why this time is different why this time I feel shy about my body, maybe he will be gentle like the man I remember from a long time ago, he was always soft and he tried to stop the others from hurting me as often as he could, until they sent him away... Then things became so much worst, more pain, more angry words, more fingers pulling and twisting.

I look at the man across from me and I know he's not like the bad men, he is different, smart, well dressed and pleasantly spoken. I need to stay here I can't let him send me back.

I stand from the table, offering him a shy look I back up towards the end of the bed, grabbing the bottom of my T-shirt as he watches lifting it over my head, shaking on the spot, I know what my body looks like, I know what they have done to me, I hope I can still please him, I think deep down I really want to, I want to show him my thanks for treating me like I'm worthy of help.

I lay down on the bed and lift my legs, bending them at the knees, sliding my feet across the soft bedcover until I'm open and bare to his view. Closing my eyes I wait.

Miki

I sit in stunned silence, she is beautiful, scars, burns, so thin her rib cage and hip bones stick out, still so utterly perfect. So utterly fucked up, this whole situation, somebody has hurt this girl over and over forced themselves on her body for their own sick twisted pleasure, taken what wasn't theirs.

I'm fucking furious, my heart is pounding with hate for the degenerates that forced this girl against her will, the rage is all-consuming, fist-clenching, teeth grinding it's all I can do not to move, not to voice my rage in a physical way. To rampage and demolish everything in sight.

I know she isn't offering her body because she wants me, she's doing what she has to survive, what she has done for a long time. This fuels my rage, even more, rage at myself for wanting her, for the split second of thinking how good I'd make it for her, of making her forget everyone who's touched her before me, and most of all rage at her not realizing how wrong this shit is.

I stand and grit my teeth walking to the side of the bed, I grab the corner of the blanket and drag it over her body. My words coming out harsher then I want but it can't be helped. "You don't do that anymore girl, you don't offer your body to anyone, no more. Not to me and not to any of my men... Is that fucking clear?" The last words come out on a roar of uncontrolled furry that has her shaking and whimpering on the bed.

Pacing before her I try to calm myself, never have I felt the need to tamper my emotions more, I need her trust and screaming at her isn't going to make this situation any better.

Running my hands through my hair I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, it just made me very mad that you did that, I know you don't understand yet but you can't do that now, you don't need to repay me for food or shelter with your body, you don't need to repay anyone with that, no more getting naked for anyone unless they make you feel special and you like them. We will find you some work to do around here instead when you are well enough. This is your room now, your home if anyone hurts you tell me straight away Retta." I tried to explain it to her as gently as I can as simple as I can.