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God, what has this man done to me?
I’m shivering like mad, my entire skin covered in goose bumps as I sit here huddled in a corner, clutching my legs close to my chest to shield myself from the cold. Nothing I do helps, and nothing in this room will help me warm up. On top of that, there’s no water, no food, nothing.
I look up at the tiny hole I made in the door. Every so often, he peers through to see if I’m still here. If I’m still not ready to give up.
And every time, I look away with my nose held high.
But with every passing second, it’s becoming more and more difficult. Locked in here, I’m losing control of my mind, and all I can think of is satiating my hunger and thirst, and my need for warmth.
Slowly but surely the thought creeps into my mind … would it be so bad?
Would it hurt if I gave up?
Would he hurt me if I surrendered?
Would I even mind if it meant I’d get what I needed?
I swallow, but my throat is still dry as a desert. I can still feel his grip on my throat hours later. But more importantly, I can still feel his fingers inside me.
A part of me wants to pretend and say I didn’t enjoy it. At least, that’s what I tell myself even though I know it’s a lie.
And deep down … I know I’m wondering what else he could possibly have in store for me.
I quiver again, but I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or from the mere idea of him having his way with me. But if I stay here any longer, I might lose my mind.
So I get up from the floor and march to the door, peeking through the hole. He’s cleaning some of his bloodied clothes in a bucket of water on the table without a shirt on. His hands go up and down, rubbing the soap in, and I suddenly become aware of just how muscly his arms and shoulders are.
And just how much I long to be let out of here.
“Please …”
It slips out of my mouth before I even realize it.
But he heard. He definitely heard.
Because his head is turned over his shoulder and his eyes instantly home in on mine.
I stumble back.
Within a few seconds, a key is shoved into the lock.
CLICK!
I step away farther, my teeth clattering.
The door opens slowly. His boots show up first, along with those tight jeans … and then his fully naked, buff, tattooed chest. And I can’t look away, even if I tried.
Warm air wafts into the room through the open door, and I soak it all in. The scent of a crackling fire entering my nostrils almost makes me groan. I didn’t know I could miss the heat as much as I do now.
His eyes have never stopped boring a hole straight into mine, even when his head is lowered and he looks at me from underneath his eyelashes. But the undeniable hunger in them forces me to watch.
“Please … what?” His voice is low and gravelly.
I lick my lips, trying my best not to show how cold I really feel and how desperate it’s made me. “Please let me out.”
“So you can try to kill me again?”
I don’t know what to say, so I opt for a lie. “I won’t. I promise.”
