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“You have a smart mouth on you, but in this world, it’s not so smart. My advice? Dumb it down until the only words you’re capable of speaking is yes, sir. You’ll last much longer that way.”
A tear drips from my eye and I feel the beginnings of a sob forming at the base of my throat.
“Isn’t that what I’d want? To not last long? Better than suffering forever, right?”
He sighs wistfully. “You’re right. You’re going to die here anyway. I guess it’s not a matter of how long you last, but rather, how bad it hurts when it’s over.”
My lip quivers. He sighs again, and the frustration has seeped back into his tone.
“Come on, get up. We need to get moving.” He stands and walks a few feet away, looking back down at me. Waiting for me to follow.
Dazed, I manage to sit up. The pain is starting to settle back in my bones, making itself known once again.
“Can I at least shower first?”
Rio’s eyes sweep my crimson-stained body, and he grins at me. “Sure, princess. You can shower. But you can’t get those stitches wet on your back, so it looks like you’ll need my help.”
Shit.
Eyes boring into my ass were more tolerable than being covered in the entrails of a dead man. I kept my back to him while rivulets of blood washed from my skin. I nearly puked when I saw chunks and fragments of bone swirling toward the drain, too.
I mainly stayed out of the water and used a fresh rag and bar soap to clean up. Rio directed me on areas to avoid on my back, but didn’t touch me, and for that, I thanked the She-Devil above.
The hardest part was washing and rinsing my hair without bending too far over and giving him a view of what he called the “money maker.”
Fucking asshole.
The shower was in a quaint little apartment on a higher level in the building, much nicer than the makeshift hospital room below, but still no better than a cheap apartment in New York City.
I assume it’s where Dr. Garrison slept when he wasn’t operating on people brought in from human traffickers. He wore a wedding ring, though I saw no evidence indicating that a woman lived there with him.
Dear God, I hope she's not chained up somewhere.
Now, I’m in the backseat of a van again with a dark sack over my head, sopping wet, and shivering in my bonds like an old engine. The bastard failed to mention that there were no clean towels and got a kick out of watching me use a hospital gown to dry off. Even more so when I attempted to wrap one around my hair.
He wouldn't let me wear it, stating my hair is too pretty to bundle up in an ugly blue gown, but really, I think he just enjoys being a dick.
The clicking from my chattering teeth is swallowed by the hard rock music pouring from the speakers. My thick hair is still soaked, and the heat is on low—not nearly enough to keep me warm. If it weren’t for the lack of body contortion and levitation, it'd look like I’m in the middle of an exorcism from how hard I’m shivering.
It feels like I am. Everything hurts so goddamn bad, and with every tremble, the pain intensifies.
I’ve never been more miserable in my fucking life.
“Don’t worry, diamond. We’re almost to your new home,” Rick croons, the sound grinding against my already frayed nerves. “Francesca is going to love you.”
The ominous tone in his voice tenses my body further. Something about the way he said it makes me feel like I have more to fear from her than any man who comes my way.
“W-who is she?”
He’s quiet for a moment, but it’s not Rick who answers. “The one person you want to impress the most,” Rio says, his voice grave.
“Why?”
“Because she will determine just how miserable your life will be until you’re sold.”
My head drops and I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s only been six days, and I feel defeated already. I’ve been gone for such an insignificant amount of time, and my spirit is already fissuring.
I take a deep breath and blow it out, slow and steady.
