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He releases me, and I stumble back, my body suddenly heavy.
“Nate,” I groan, attempting to catch myself on the sink.
But my hands feel lifeless. I might as well be a ghost with the way they refuse to grip the ceramic.
Just as I feel myself falling to the floor, two hands catch me. His arm slides under my legs as he picks me up, the other holding my waist.
“I got you.” His words sound as freeing as if metal handcuffs were closing around my wrist.
“No,” I moan as my head falls against his chest.
“You’ll be spending a bit of time with me now, little sunflower.” I hate this nickname. I fucking hate anything that comes out of his mouth.
I hate it all because it makes me weak. He forces me to be weak.
“You’re as beautiful as I remember, Kay. Especially when you’re helpless.”
I try to shake my head, denying I’m helpless even as my heavy eyelids seal my eyes like an unstoppable gate.
“Don’t do this.” My slurred words barely come out. “Nate, don’t…don…d…”
I still hear his response as I blackout completely.
“I forgot how much I love when you beg.”
6
KAYLA
Truth Comes Out - Willyecho
The pounding in my head is unstoppable. I’m sitting down, but I might as well be lying on the floor in a doorway with someone repeatedly banging a door on my head.
Chin to my chest, I can feel blood slowly dripping from my nose, making it impossible to breathe. It tastes coppery on my tongue, and my throat is dry from having to breathe through my mouth.
Despite my entire body being in pain, some parts are clearly becoming numb. My hands and feet, for example. I’m barely conscious, but I can tell it’s because of the ropes around my wrists and ankles.
My hands are tied together behind the back of a chair, and the fact that my head is drooping in front of me pulls painfully at my shoulders, but I don’t have the strength to lift it up. In a herculean effort, I attempt to move my legs to feel for wiggle room, but my ankles seem tightly bound to the front two legs of the chair.
Even I have to admit this doesn’t look too good, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’m in this position.
I can’t place myself in what seems like a completely dark room, and I’m not even sure if my eyes are open or not. I attempt a deep breath, but my muscles are tense from the beating, refusing to let me breathe decently. It’s cold in here, but suffocating. The air is damp, tickling my body every time oxygen passes through my lungs.
There’s a dull sound in my ears, mixing with ringing. It hurts every single cell in my brain until I realize it’s music.
Oh, the motherfucker.
I’m in a pitch-black room, bound to a chair, barely able to keep myself conscious longer than a few seconds at a time…and “She’s My Witch” by Kip Tyler is trying to make itself a space in the already asphyxiating air.
Nate likes his rock songs. He’s got his favorites from every period since the fifties. He’d always say “She’s My Witch” reminds him of me.
Nathan White is back, and he wants to play games.
The thought only drags me back to the darkness, and awareness leaves me again, my muscles slackening as I slip back into oblivion.
It’s the thirst that wakes me up. The song still plays. I could almost hear it starting over and over again in my pain-induced sleep. I can tell my body is trying to protect itself from the agony I’m feeling in every single one of my limbs, and the new attempt at lifting my head is met with so much aching in my skull and stiffness in my neck that I faint on the spot. All I feel is my head dropping forward before totally blacking out.
I want to scream when I become aware of the music notes again. Same song, same old rock and roll beat and fingers smoothly pinching an electric guitar.
