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He isn’t wrong, I need to be rested to go after Eduardo, so I can get my cerecita back.
thirty five
ISABELLA
Struggling to breathe, I groan as I come to. My whole face hurts and feels swollen, and breathing feels stuffy like I have a horrible cold. My mouth is dry, and I have a faint metallic taste on my tongue
That fucking asshole hit me in the face again.
How long was I out?
I struggle to open my eyes and a moment of panic hits when I realize that I am no longer on the plane.
Where the fuck am I?
As I struggle to lift my head, I realize how cold and hard the floor is beneath me. Pulling my head from my chest, I rest it against the wooden post I’m leaning against. Trying to move, I realize I’m not leaning against the post.
I’m tied to it.
Pulling my hands and trying to lower my arms, my wrists burn. Both are already sore and tender from where the rope pulled and rubbed while I was unconscious. I wrap my hands around the rope binding me to the post in hopes that I will alleviate the pain.
The only source of light is coming from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling not far above my head. The cold floor beneath me is concrete. All the walls I can see are brick, and there are no windows.
A basement.
I must be in a basement.
No one is going to stumble across me here.
Tears of sheer hopelessness trickle down my face. I sob, and the pain it causes only makes me cry harder. I try unsuccessfully to stifle my cries, and for the first time I am thankful for the gag in my mouth. It will silence my cries and hopefully not draw Eddie’s attention to me.
My hopes are short lived when I hear the distinctive creak of wooden stairs behind me. Every muscle in my body tightens as I hear footsteps approaching behind me.
“It’s almost time to reach out to your husband,” his voice is close, and he must be standing right behind me, “And we need to get you cleaned up.”
The sound of that turns a knot in my stomach.
“I’m going to remove the gag,” his tone is gruff, “If you scream, you will fucking regret it. Do you understand?”
Tears still trickling down my face, I nod in agreement.
Eddie unties the gag and pulls it from my mouth. Searing fire burns through my jaw as I try to stretch the muscles in my face.
Leaving the rope bound around my wrists, he unties it from the post and uses it to pull me to my feet. My body is struggling to keep up as he pulls me across the basement. While I don’t know how my legs will struggle to climb them, I’m hoping he drags me up them.
Maybe if I scream, someone will hear me.
Instead, he drags me to a shower in the corner. More correctly, a showerhead with a drain in the floor beneath it. Holding the rope with one hand, he pulls a box cutter from his back pocket.
“Behave,” he flicks the blade out, “or I will hurt you.”
My breathing stutters as fear surges through me, followed by silent sobs as he slowly cuts through the fabric of my tank top and my shorts. Tossing the fabric to the ground, his eyes roam over my semi-covered body for a moment before he pulls the razor blade through the lacy fabric of my bra and panties.
His eyes continue to look over my body, and with my bound wrists I am not able to do much to try and cover myself.
Eddie turns the water on, and I screech as icy, cold water washes over my body. Every inch of my skin is suddenly covered in goosebumps, and I am trembling.
Shoving a bar of soap in my hands, Eddie grunts, “Clean up.”
