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EMMIE
My body trembles with the cold, and I curl up in a ball to try to stave it off. It doesn’t work, though.
Nothing works.
The cruel guy in the mask has never returned, and I’m not sure whether I’m relieved about that or not.
While he was here, he left the door open. After trying it more than once recently, I know it’s locked well enough, and I have no chance of escaping unless it’s through that door.
I glance over at it, willing it to magically open, to give me a small miracle.
But unsurprisingly, nothing happens.
Pushing my aching body up so I’m sitting, I wrap my arms around my knees as my stomach grumbles while the plate of bread taunts me from the tray he left.
I’m debating whether I’m going to have to just eat it when the click of the lock disengaging startles me.
Light streams into the room before a different guy storms in, his face also covered. But the second he talks, familiarity washes through me.
“Let’s go,” he barks out, reaching out and lifting me to my feet.
But despite the fact that he clearly wants me to leave the room, my feet remain firmly in place on the floor.
He’s not going to let me escape, so what horror is waiting for me outside that room?
“Emmie,” he sighs. His voice softens despite his grip on my arm remaining unrelenting. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Then why am I here?”
He slams his lips shut as his eyes bore into mine.
“What do you want from me?” I demand, slamming my foot down like a petulant child—not that I think it’s going to get me anywhere.
“Come on.” His other hand wraps around the nape of my neck and he pushes me forward, out of the room and into the blinding light of a hallway.
“Where are we?” I ask as he continues pushing me.
“You ask a lot of questions,” he mutters.
“Wouldn’t you if you were being manhandled by some masked cunt?” I spit out—much to his irritation, if the growl that rumbles from him is anything to go by.
“Careful, Princess. I could quite easily lock you back in that room and leave you to the wrath of the others.”
My lips part to bite back again, but I quickly consider my options and close them once more. If he’s actually intending on looking after me, then I should probably keep my frustrations over this situation bottled up for now. At least until that dick from earlier reappears.
“Where’s the guy from before?” I ask as we approach a closed door.
“Called away. I got left to look after our new little pet.”
He brings me to a stop at the door and releases his hold, allowing me to turn around.
“Give me something,” I plead, holding his eyes, desperately trying to figure out who he is.
I know him. I fucking know I do.
But who?
Is he a Reaper? A Wolf? Cirillo?
