King of Slaves (Jenna's Story) (The Slave Series Book 5) (48 page)

“You know… like sexual favors or things like that… because I’m not a hooker, you know.”

Okay, so I’m not the most articulate person when I’m under pressure and, yes, I was freaked out by this new uncle popping into my life and starting to make decisions on my behalf. If there’s one thing I’ve found to be true in life, it’s that when something looks too good to be true, it usually is. Nobody just gives almost four thousand dollars to someone they just met – that doesn’t happen in real life. I knew there had to be a catch. A major one.

“You’re my niece, Black,” he said with a frown.

“So…? We both know we’re not blood related, and I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were stupid.”

“Everyone knows men fantasize about sex with their nieces and daughters, all the time.”

The look of disgust on his face was almost comical. “What the fuck are you talking about? What kind of sickos do you associate with?”

“Ohh, come on, like you’ve never watched porn and seen scenes of incest.”

For a moment there I worried he was going to throw a complete hissy fit on me, but despite his face being almost tomato red and his hands forming into fists, he managed to keep his calm, although his voice was a bit strained.

“I can assure you that my interest in you is not sexual. I just hate how my brother failed you and I feel that our family owes you for letting you down. Since he’s not stepping up, I am.”

   I blinked a few times. “So you’re not going to ask me to spread my legs for you?”

“No.”

“All right, good, just had to check.”

“And just so we’re clear,” he huffed out. “I don’t have to pay for sex and to be honest, I prefer my girls a bit less Goth.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that.”

I felt stupid. He was right to be offended. I’m not exactly the hot cheerleader kind of girl, and this dude is gorgeous. To accuse him of wanting to have sex with me seemed a little ridiculous, as I have never been with anyone remotely that hot. But then again, I haven’t really been with anyone. Seeing my mom practically prostitute herself made me commit to being different, and guys generally find me cold and reserved.

“I’ll just pack my bag and then we’re leaving. It’s a long drive,” Gabriel said and went into his bedroom.

I turned my head toward the entry door. I could run, right now. Maybe the police and Gabriel wouldn’t find me. I could go to a new city, maybe hitchhike to New York. Anything was better than two weeks in the hands of some brain twister who would reboot me like a computer and cure me of whatever virus he thought I had going on.
What a bunch of crap.

My shoulders sank when what-if thoughts filled my head. Hitchhikers end up raped and killed all the time. New York might be fun in the summer, but they have cold winters and where would I sleep?

So yeah, I was still standing in the same spot when Gabriel returned with a military backpack tossed over his shoulder.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“Sure,” I lied and started walking toward hell.

CHAPTER 4

Camp RTC

Gabriel

You would think a three-hour-long drive should give you plenty of time to talk, but Black wasn’t very talkative, and at some point I grew tired of asking her questions that she avoided answering.

From Tacoma all the way to Olympia she didn’t say a single word but just looked passively out the window. That’s why it startled me when she finally spoke up.

“So what’s your family like?”

I had been waiting for that question and had an answer ready. “You mean
our
family.”

She didn’t comment on that so I continued talking. “They are crazy on bad days and amazing on good days, like most other families, I think.”

“Tell me about the good days,” she said in a low voice and fidgeted with her pants.

“Do you remember I told you how my dad died when I was five?”

“Yeah.”

“When I was seven my mom married Steve, your grandfather, and we moved into his large house in Medina with him and his three children.”

“Brent, Brittany, and Melody,” she said to my surprise.

“Yes, how do you know their names?” I asked.

“My mom told me.”

“Oh, okay. Anyway, Brent was already seventeen, Brittany was fourteen and Melody was ten, so a lot older than me, but I was like a fun younger brother to them, and they were good to me.”

“And your stepdad?”

“Let’s just say that Steve is not my favorite person.”

“So there’s nothing amazing about him then?”

I tilted my head from side to side as if to weigh evidence. “He’s a brilliant businessman and he’s been a good provider for my mom and all us kids.”

“But you don’t like his personality.”

“God no, the man is a tyrant.”

“And your mom?”

“My mom is sweet and considerate, but too much of a people pleaser. She always tries to make everyone happy. From what I heard, your biological grandmother lives somewhere on the east coast. She left Steve and the kids when Brent was around ten, I think. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll like my mom a lot.”

That last comment made Black turn her head away from me. Once more silence fell upon us and lasted until we drove into the camp area inside the Rain Forest, ninety minutes later.

I got out of my car and stretched my limbs, taking in the beauty and the lushness of this amazing place. Going to the rainforest had actually been on my list of things to do while in Seattle for the summer, and I was looking forward to some long hikes while I was here.

Black on the other hand looked completely out of place with her Goth looks against all the green around us. Somehow the contrast made her dark appearance seem even more dramatic.

“Hello.” I recognized Bruce when he came toward us from the biggest of the cabins. There was one large main house and ten small cabins placed in a large circle. In the middle there were stones placed in circles for campfires, and to the side a playground with a set of swings, a sandbox, a slide, and some monkey bars. It all looked very family friendly but I saw no people around.

“Welcome,” Bruce said and reached out to shake our hands. “Good to see you made it here so fast.”

“The traffic was good,” I told him and got my bag from the trunk.

“Follow me.” Bruce let the way into the main house and walked us through a large common area with a cozy fireplace and toys, books, and board games laid out. “Come in to my office,” he said.

Once we were seated around a table in his office Bruce started talking to Black.

“As I told you on the phone, we follow a program that has proven successful. Our methods are somewhat unorthodox but our results speak for themselves and that’s why people come here.”

“Okay,” Black said with mild interest.

“We’ve already determined what you want to achieve from your stay. You said money, but we boiled it down to your need for a place to stay and money for food. Which really translates into your understandable need for safety and certainty.”

She nodded.

“In a minute my colleague Therese will come and take you to our neutralizing zone, while I will go over the payment and the sleeping arrangements with your uncle.”

“What’s a neutralizing zone?” I asked, a bit worried.

“It’s just a room where Black will change her clothes and get rid of her jewelry and things. Regression, as the word implies, means going back in time to a younger version of oneself, and obviously Black didn’t have nose piercings or colored hair when she was a small child.”

Her hand flew up to a piercing. “I’m not taking out my piercings or changing my hair.”

The expression on Bruce’s face was stern. “Yes, you will. When you leave in two weeks you can dress in black as much as you want to, but while you’re here there will be no façade of make-up or black clothes to hide behind; we want to see the real you – which reminds me, what is your real name?”

Black crossed her arms and pouted, so I answered for her. “Darcia Emma Nielsson.”

“And do you prefer Darcia or Emma?”

“Neither,” she said.

“Well, pick one,” Bruce told her, unimpressed with her attitude.

“I told you I don’t li–” she started but I interrupted her and said, “How about Cia?”

She closed her mouth and after a few seconds she gave a slight nod.

“Cia it is,” Bruce said. “

She was still pouting when Therese came in to escort her out of the room.

Therese, in contrast, was a happy kitten in her mid-twenties with long auburn-colored hair to her mid-waist. She had cute dimples and when she gave me her hand she placed her other hand on top and gave me a warm smile.

Maybe these two weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all… Nature, hiking, and some fun with Therese might turn out to be a good kind of vacation.

When we were alone in the room, Bruce took my credit card information and gave me more instructions.

“It’s important that you understand what is expected of you. Cia doesn’t really want to be here and most likely doesn’t think she needs our help. Our methods can seem strange at first, especially since it’s a combination of traditional therapy sessions and practical assignments.”

“Okay.”

“We use role-play to re-enact childhood situations – the purpose of course is to feed the brain with a new version of what happened in the past. Once we start taking Cia back to her childhood I must prepare you to expect strong reactions from her. There will most likely be triggers, so if you know of anything in her childhood we should be aware of, then I would like to know about it.”

I squirmed a bit in my seat. “I’ve only know Black – ehh, I mean Cia – since yesterday, so I can’t really tell you much about her childhood except for what she told me.”

He held his pen over his paper and looked at me expectantly.

“Go ahead.”

“All right, ehhm…” I held up my hand and counted on my fingers. “Her mother was an alcoholic. She ran away when she was fourteen; her father Brent, who is my stepbrother, rejected her and basically told her he wished she hadn’t been born.”

Bruce didn’t flinch or show any sign of emotion, but just took notes.

“She has survived by working in a motel where the owner allowed her to sleep at night. That’s all I know.”

“Good.”

He was still writing when I remembered another detail. “Oh and she got through high school and didn’t want to be in a foster family because she said; she didn’t want anyone to abuse her. She wouldn’t tell me, but I got the feeling that her mom abused her in some way.”

“Thank you.” He took a few moments to finish his notes before he looked up. “Now, G, your role will be the parent and since you’re male you’ll take the role as Cia’s father. Do you have any children?” he asked.

“No.”

“Did you have a good father yourself?”

“For the first five years I did.”

“Elaborate please.”

“My biological father was awesome and fun. But he got killed in battle and then my mom married my stepdad who isn’t a very nice man.”

Bruce tapped his chin. “What do you mean by that?”

I scoffed. “Well to be frank, my step dad is a perfectionist who mentally tortured his children.”

“Including you?”

“No, mostly his own three kids. My mom always protected me, so I never got the worst of it like they did.”

“Did he hit them or abuse them sexually?”

“No, nothing like that. It was more about verbally demeaning them a lot. I mean, the guy is old school and believes in shame, blame, and punishment.”

“Physical punishment?”

“Yeah, but nothing extreme… just a quick spanking or a slap on the face. It’s the hateful words that he’s mastered.”

“All right. Now, with Cia, you should expect her to challenge you. Especially as we move her up in her years.”

“Years?”

“We’ll start her out as a baby and you’ll care for her.”

My brows shot up to my hairline and then I broke into a laugh. “Come again?”

Bruce didn’t even smile. “You will be assigned a cabin and it’s your job to offer Cia the nurture of an infant. You will make sure she gets fed, you will put her to bed, sing her a good-night song, and take care of her needs. Just as you would an infant.”

I scratched my neck and searched for something to say, but I couldn’t stop smiling, wondering if this was a prank of some kind.

“You understand that I met my niece yesterday, right? We don’t have a close relationship and even if we had, what you’re asking is bizarre.”

“As I said,” Bruce said dryly. “Our methods are hands-on and somewhat unorthodox, but the good news is that I’ll be following Cia’s process closely and I’ll be here to support you. The more she cooperates and shows healthy behavior, the quicker she can progress to the next level.”

“And what is the next level?”

He pointed up to a board on the wall behind me. “Those are the age group definitions that we work with.

“Infant is from birth to twelve months.

“Toddler is from one to four years.

“Child is from five to ten; and preteen is from ten to thirteen, where we reach the teenage years.

“Of course after that comes young adult, adult, and elder adult, but with Cia those are irrelevant. Her problems seems to derive from her childhood and that’s what we’ll focus on.”

“I see…” I took a deep breath. “So the next two weeks you want her to go through role-plays of being a baby, a toddler, a child, and a teenager.”

“Yes, and a preteen too,” he added and pushed up from his chair.

“And you want me to act as her father?”

“Yes, she will call you Daddy or Father and you’ll refer to her as Cia, honey, or whatever endearment you find works for you and her.”

He held out his hand to signal he wanted me to get up from the chair and walk with him.

“Do all your clients go through this program?”

“More or less,” he said.

“I don’t think Cia is going to like it,” I said slowly and followed him out the door. The thought of the Goth girl I had come to know was incompatible with what he wanted her to do. The image of her walking out of Starbuck yesterday and flipping a finger at a guy in a car came to mind. Cia was hard, edgy, and angry. There was nothing childish about her.

We walked from the main house to one of the small cabins, and Bruce entered and spread his arms. “This is it. Your room for the next two weeks, I trust that you and Cia will be comfortable here.”

I looked around and bit my inner cheek. It wasn’t that it was bad or anything… but it was just one room with a queen-size bed, a closet, two night stands, and a chair.

Bruce opened the door to the bathroom. “All our cabins have a bathtub, and you’ll need it to give Cia a bath before bedtime.”

“Wow, hold on. You can’t be serious?”

Again, the man looked very serious.

“A bath before bedtime, and don’t try to get out of it because all cabins are video monitored.”

“But surely you don’t expect me to physically touch my niece while she’s naked?”

“Let me absolutely clear about this; there’s nothing sexual in any of this.” Bruce gave me a patient glance. “I want you to think of her as an infant, and give her the paternal love and care that she didn’t receive as a child. She might resist it, but it’s critical that you do it. You will bathe her, wash her hair and body, and dry her afterwards. When that’s done, you will dress her in her baby jumpsuit and put her to bed with a lullaby. If you can’t do it, I will have one of the therapists take your place, but I can’t stress enough how much better it will be when a family member does it.”

Fuck!
To say I didn’t like this would be an understatement, but somehow the logic in rebooting Cia’s shitty childhood made sense to me. So as the good soldier I am, I would follow orders.

“But about that video surveillance – who sees those tapes?”