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I do a mental sweep of my body then. I start at my feet. I wiggle my toes and flex my calves and thighs.
I am sure, though I cannot see, that bruises must be forming on my legs because of how painful they are.
I pause, and I try to take another deep breath, stinging tears springing to my eyes as I stop at my genital area.
But I don’t hurt there at all.
Maybe nothing has happened…yet,I think to myself.
I continue the mental sweep of the rest of my body. Afterward, I come to the conclusion that I must have been beaten very badly.
Snatches of a hazy memory flash through my mind then.
A memory of screaming as I am dragged into a warehouse and thrown onto the floor. I see a hand rising in front of my face, and the pain is crackling, stinging, loud when the hand connects with my face.
More memories come rushing at me so violently that I wish I could cringe away from them.
Because I really don’t want to remember waking up and being beaten with an iron rod. I really don’t want to remember being choked with a chain until the skin on my neck broke.
I don’t want to remember my arms being twisted so far away from my body that they were subluxated. I really start to cry then, choking on my tears every few seconds as my movements make the chain strain and pull against my neck.
The warehouse is cold and gloomy, and a slow, soft wind whispers through a crack in the exterior of the building.
I’m probably going to die here,I realize as I continue sobbing.
The pain in my body is so fierce, so all-consuming, that the tears are forced from me.
“You should stop crying.” The voice is soft in my ear, and I shriek so loudly that I can hear mynahs squawking and taking flight somewhere in the distance.
We must be close to the ports,I think numbly to myself as I listen to the screeching of the sea birds.
The voice moves away from me.
Maybe this is when he rapes me.I shudder and swallow down the bile that has risen in my throat.
But the voice moves further away and mutters inaudible words. I feel fingertips against my ankles and hear the metallic clatter as the chains around my feet are untied. The same happens with my wrists and neck, and I start to sob again as the owner of the voice pops my arms back into their sockets.
This does lessen the pain somehow, and my stomach unclenches.
“Look at me.”
I decide then that it is best to follow the voice’s instructions. Hopefully being obedient will get me out of this alive.
I blink slowly and look in the direction of the voice. I see immediately that it is still the same dark elf who kidnapped me from the Ilnais estate.
Aricen.
Aricen smiles, and there is something about his smile that sends trickles of fear bursting across my skin. My body goes cold, and I clench my jaw to stop it from clattering with cold and anxiety.
“You don’t know me,” Aricen says. He is still smiling unnervingly. “But I know you. I know you, Neveah, because I know Luocre Ilnais.”
“What do you want from me?” I keep my voice soft, submissive.
“What do I want?” Aricen seems to ponder over the question for a few seconds. “I want revenge. You see, several years ago, Luocre Ilnais tore my life in two. By plunging a dagger into the heart of my uncle.”
I don’t wince at Aricen’s confession the way I would have before.
I really don’t have a problem with Luocre being an assassin, it seems,I confirm with myself.
