Police Protection Program

Chapter 24

It had been almost 6 months since I had been living in the gang house with Taylor. The experience was nothing like the way I had lived with them in the years before. Instead of feeling that familiar family bond that I once thought I had with these people, I despised them, as they did me. 

They viewed me as a traitor. Which I was, no doubt. They wished that they would have just killed me when they had the chance. I didn't deserve to live in their eyes. I especially didn't deserve to live in the same circumference as them. Eating dinner at the same table as them, sitting on their couch. 

But I had a relationship with Taylor, as much as they, and myself included, hated that. 

My relationship with the leader of the gang had been a hard pill to swallow for the many members. They couldn't understand why Taylor of all people, the man who preached loyalty the most, could invite someone who had betrayed the entire gang into his bed. 

I couldn't understand it either. 

Taylor had some sort of sick infatuation with me. He had proclaimed his love to me many times in the months that I had been staying with him. I simply nodded my head in response every time. 

I hated this man with every fiber of my being. I had tried to escape so many times I couldn't count  them on both my hands. I guess you could say I got tired of being caught and beaten every time. My lip had a permanent cut and my cheek and bruise that was taking a very long time to fade away as a result. 

It was either live with Taylor, or die. I choose the ladder of course but Taylor refused to let me go. He very badly wanted me all to himself. And that is what he got. 

I had been hindered under his wing for six months and counting. I was rarely ever allowed out of his sight for fear that I would try to escape again, or possibly slit my wrists. I had thought of slitting my wrists more than once. Or perhaps taking a few pills. 

Taylor didn't want to risk this at all, and therefore all drugs and pointy objects were kept out of my reach. Sadly, I wasn't creative enough to think of another way to get the job done. I could jump out of the window, but I felt I would just end up seriously injured in a few casts and on bed rest in Taylor's bedroom. That was something I definitely didn't want. 

The last time I had been hurt badly and rendered immobile in Taylor's bed, he had taken full advantage of my helplessness. 

Thinking of those few weeks was enough to make me shudder. 

I peered out of the window of Taylor's room onto the grounds outside. There were a few flowers planted here and there, a bush or two growing. There were men standing guard. 

I saw a sleek black car pull up to the house. 

My throat immediately became dry as Taylor stepped out of the car. He nodded his head at the men before making his way to the house. 

I attempted to mentally prepare myself for his entrance. 

This was a one sided relationship, of course. Every interaction between the two of us was a strained act put on by me. I realized in my first few weeks here that putting up a fight against Taylor wasn't a benefit to me at all. That simply left me battered, and I wasn't sure how many more beatings my body could take. 

I couldn't make myself feel an inkling of anything for Taylor except hate. I was astonished that I was able to keep up this act for six months. I didn't believe that I could do it for much longer though. I needed to think of a plan, and a good one, fast. 

"Honey, I'm home!" Taylor burst into the room. 

"Hi." I muttered meekly. 

"Did you miss me?"