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“You always mess up,” she mutters, her clothing rasping as she moves.
Pain sears through my stomach when she kicks me, and I can no longer pretend to be knocked out.
My eyes fly open just as she pulls back her leg to kick at me again. When she notices I’m awake, her demeanor changes. She’s no longer the pissed-off woman sick of his abuse. She transforms right before my eyes into the sweet woman I saw on the roadside that was so concerned for my health and well-being.
Fool me once, you psychotic bitch.
“You poor thing. Are you okay?”
I flinch away from her when she crouches and tries to reach out to me. Anger flares in her eyes at my rejection, but thankfully she doesn’t kick me again.
Standing, the woman walks away. As much as I try to twist my body from where I’ve been placed on the floor, my tied hands and feet don’t allow for much movement. What I can see tells me a little about the situation.
The house is immaculate, albeit worn and humble. There is no dust under the sofa. The floor I’m lying on smells of pine cleaner, the air around heavy with the same scent. I imagine she gets beaten for no reason most days, and those punishments increase when the house is a mess. In her eyes, if the home is perfect, then she can avoid the beatings, although there’s a good chance his behavior has proved otherwise time and time again.
The man wants a younger woman but isn’t willing to give up the woman he has. It says a lot about his control issues.
“This should ease your mind,” the woman says, reentering my field of vision with a long strip of thick fabric in her hands. “Darkness brings me the most peace.”
I try to squirm away when she lifts it to my eyes. I may not be able to stop what’s coming, but I don’t want to hide from it either.
She grips a handful of my hair, yanking my head back so hard, my neck pops. “Don’t fucking test me.”
Not wanting to bring out the twisted side of her any further, I relax, making it easy for her to blindfold me. When she steps away, I tighten every muscle in my body, waiting for another blow to come.
Instead, I hear her walk out of the room, leaving me there alone. I’m not fool enough to think of this time as a reprieve, but I honestly can’t believe my incredibly horrible luck to have escaped one fucking trio of sick fucks only to end up bound in the living room of two others.
The world has completely gone to shit.
***
Despite being able to control myself twice now when waking in captivity, I’m unable today, jolting awake with a gasp.
Terror fills every ounce of me because I didn’t realize I fell asleep. The first two times I was drugged, but this time is more dangerous. It doesn’t matter if I fell asleep or passed out from what I’ve been through, doing so puts me in even more danger.
The world around me is still dark, the blindfold keeping most light out of my field of vision. Knowing I could easily get it off by moving my head is pure torture because I know I’m safer with it on. They don’t want me to see them. I could identify the woman at this point, but I haven’t laid eyes on the man, and that fact could be the only thing offering a layer of protection to my safety right now.
My stomach grumbles, taking note of the scent of decadent food filling the air before my brain even registers the smell. Time means nothing right now. I have no idea how long it’s been since I was taken, but my body is weak from lack of food and water, my muscles twitching in random places along my arms and legs.
Silverware clinks on plates from what I guess is about twenty feet away, but I have no way of knowing if I’m in their field of vision. I move as minutely as I can, testing the restraints on my arms and legs, but they don’t budge. Thankfully, they don’t tighten like the ropes did after I was first abducted.
“What if we can use her?” the woman asks, her voice meek and soft.
The man grunts as if giving her permission to go on.
“I know she’s not your preference, but the girls at the university are. We can use her as bait to draw in someone you would like to help here at the house.”
Silence fills the air as my stomach turns from a combination of no food and from what I’m hearing. They may have no intention of keeping me, but they also have no intention of stopping whatever search they had.
“It won’t work.” The man sounds pissed at her for even suggesting the idea.
