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The decking feels cold beneath my feet, but I commence a slow stagger toward the bathroom. My steps are sluggish with the pins and needles feeling in my legs, but I make sure not to touch Saint as I stumble past him. He inhales through his nose.
When the bathroom is within reach, I open the door, never feeling more relieved. However, seeing the small window above the toilet pleases me more. I do as he says and leave the door open as I shuffle into the tiny space. There is only enough room for a toilet, a tiny shower, and a sink, but it’ll do.
I watch him, arching a brow, hinting for some privacy.
With arms folded, he turns slowly, showing me his back.
Not wanting to alert him to my plan, I shyly reach under my skirt to pull down my underwear and quickly sit onto the toilet. I have to go, but with him standing there, my bladder gets stage fright.
“What’s taking so long?” he asks when there is silence.
My cheeks turn a beet red. “I can’t…pee with you standing there.”
“Either you go with me here, or you don’t go at all. Take your pick.”
Narrowing my eyes, I plot the ways to make him pay for being such an asshole, then decide to hum under my breath so I can pee under the cloak of music. It works. I don’t even know what I’m humming to, but it doesn’t matter because once I’m done, I’m going to slam this door shut and attempt to get the fuck off this boat.
Craning my neck, I see that the window has a latch. It’s unlocked. It’s small, but I’ll be able to squeeze through. Once I’m done, I reach for some toilet paper, my gaze floating between Saint and the window.
I flush and decide to wash my hands as that’ll give me more time for him to lower his guard. When I peer into the square mirror above the sink, I gasp as my reflection resembles something out of a horror movie.
Coagulated blood sticks to my matted hair in clumps. Crimson paints my cheeks, with rivets of dried tears cascading all the way down my chin. My mouth looks swollen and my eyes puffy. So much for using my looks because the only look I’m rocking right now is shit.
The reason that is zaps through my veins, and a surge of adrenaline overthrows me. It’s now or never. Ensuring his back is still turned, I take a deep breath. And then another.
With the water still running, I lunge for the door and lock it, taking back my life. I only have seconds before he’s breaking down the flimsy door. My heart is in my throat as I climb onto the toilet, and with fumbling fingers, I unlatch the window.
When it pops open, I don’t have time to celebrate as I frantically boost myself up and wiggle my body through the hole. I can taste my freedom as I’m almost through, but it’s the last time I will taste it on my tongue because before I know it, I hear an ear-splitting crash and am being hauled backward violently.
“No!” I scream, flailing like a madwoman as I kick my legs. But it’s in vain. “Let me go!”
Saint jerks me back, wrapping his hands around my waist as I clutch onto the frame of the window, holding on for dear life. He is so strong, and eventually, I cave, afraid he’ll rip me into two.
“No.” I sob as he throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all. I pound on his back, thrashing to break free, but he only tightens his hold. When he twists, and I’m able to reach his side, I go on instinct and bite down—hard.
He grunts as my bite clearly stung, but when he rips free from my teeth, I know I’ve just made things so much worse. He is furious. His hulking body trembles in rage as he storms through the boat and slams me to my feet. I attempt to run, but he grabs me by the throat and shoves me backward. My back hits a support pole, and I gasp for breath.
“You want to act like a dog, I’ll treat you like one.”
“Please,” I beg, tears and spittle running down my face. But he doesn’t listen.
With his fingers still clutched around my throat, he reaches for a length of rope and forces my hands behind my back. With the rope, he then viciously ties it around my arms, just under my breasts, so I’m bound to the pole.
“You don’t have to do this,” I plead, but he’s so angry, he won’t listen to a word I have to say.
When he drops to his knees and forces my legs shut so he can tie them to the pole also, my fight dies, and I begin to weep. By the time he’s bound my ankles, tiny snivels wrack my body. I’m bound to the pole by my arms, legs, and feet. I’m not going anywhere.
Yet what scares me the most is how he won’t look at me.
“Saint…” It’s too late to take it back.
His head snaps up, and he launches off the floor, roaring into my face, “How do you know my name?”
“I-I…” I fumble over my words, his once smooth, chartreuse-colored eyes now a flaming amber.
“Tell me!” he yells, his breath fanning the hair from my cheeks.
“I h-heard one of the men call y-you th-that. I’m so-sorry.” I am gasping for breath because my fear is robbing me of air.
