I glared at him, mustering whatever scraps of defiance I had left. “You’ll never win,” I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. “Someone will come for me.”
Bentley stopped, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The grin faltered for a moment, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. “You still think someone’s coming?” he asked,crouching in front of me. “You think your knight in shining armor is going to burst through that door and save the day?”
He reached out, his fingers gripping my chin with bruising force, forcing me to meet his gaze. His breath was warm against my face, carrying the faint scent of something sour and rotten. “Let me tell you a secret,” he whispered, his voice low and venomous. “No one’s coming. You’re mine now. And I don’t share.”
He released me with a shove, my head snapping back as his laughter filled the room. He straightened, turning to the table of tools with a casualness that made my stomach churn. His hands skimmed over the instruments, pausing over a pair of pliers. He picked them up, turning them over in his hands as if considering their potential.
“Do you know what the most delicate part of the human body is?” he asked, his voice light, almost conversational. He didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s the fingertips. So sensitive, so full of nerve endings. And so easy to break.”
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, my stomach twisting in terror as he moved toward me, the pliers glinting in the dim light. I tried to pull away, the ropes cutting into my skin as I thrashed, but it was no use.
“Let’s see how strong you really are,” Bentley said, grabbing my hand with a vice-like grip. The pliers closed around my index finger, the cold metal biting into my skin. I cried out, the sound raw and guttural, as he slowly applied pressure.
“Please,” I gasped, tears streaming down my face. “Please, don’t?—”
The snap echoed through the room, sharp and final. Pain exploded in my hand, a white-hot agony that stole my breath and sent my body convulsing against the restraints. I screamed until my throat burned, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a torturedsymphony.
Bentley stepped back, holding up the pliers as if showing off a trophy. “One down,” he said, his grin widening. “Nine to go.”
I sagged in the chair, my body trembling, the pain overwhelming every other thought. I couldn’t fight anymore. I couldn’t move. My mind was slipping, the edges of my consciousness fraying as the room blurred around me.
Bentley leaned in close, his voice a cruel whisper in my ear. “You can break, Dove. It’s okay. I’ll still be here, piecing you back together, over and over again.”
The sound of his laughter followed me as the darkness closed in, swallowing me whole.
The world drifted in and out of focus. My body was numb, but the pain lingered in the background, a cruel reminder of what had been done to me. I wanted to wake up, to believe that this was all some twisted nightmare, but every time my eyes fluttered open, I was met with the cold, unyielding reality of the room.
Bentley’s voice pierced through the haze, sharp and grating. “You’re tougher than I thought,” he said, his tone tinged with mock admiration. “But everyone has a breaking point. I wonder how close we are to finding yours.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat was raw from screaming, my body too drained to fight back. The ropes around my wrists had bitten deep into my skin, and I could feel the sticky warmth of blood seeping down my arms. My broken finger throbbed in time with my heartbeat, the pain radiating up my arm like fire.
Bentley moved around the room with a predatory grace, the sound of his boots against the tile echoing in the suffocating silence. He hummed a tune, a haunting melody that seemed to mock my misery. The metallic clink of tools beingshuffled reached my ears, followed by the sharp scrape of a chair being dragged across the floor.
I turned my head, every movement a struggle, and saw him setting up another scene of torment. A thin wire glinted in his hands, coiled and ready, like a snake preparing to strike. He caught my gaze and smiled, a smile that made my stomach twist in dread.
“Electricity is such a misunderstood force,” he mused, threading the wire between his fingers. “It’s so much more than just light and power. In the right hands, it can be… enlightening.”
He approached me slowly, savoring every step, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “But I’ll be merciful,” he said, his grin widening. “We’ll start small.”
I tried to shrink back, but the chair held me firm. The wire was cold as he pressed it against my skin, wrapping it around my arm with a meticulous care that made my skin crawl. He stepped back, his hands moving to the crude battery setup he had cobbled together on the table.
“Let’s see how much voltage that pretty little body of yours can take,” he said, flipping a switch.
The first jolt was mild, more of a tingle than a shock, but it sent my nerves alight. I bit down on my lip, refusing to cry out, even as my muscles tensed involuntarily. Bentley watched me intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and delight.
“Not bad,” he said, turning the dial. “Let’s turn it up a notch.”
The second jolt was stronger, sharper, ripping through my body like a lightning strike. My back arched against the chair, a strangled cry escaping before I could stop it. Bentley’s laughter filled the room, a twisted, gleeful sound that only fueled my hatred.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said, his voicedripping with satisfaction. “You’re a fighter, Dove. I’ll give you that. But even fighters break.”
I gasped for air, my chest heaving as the pain subsided. My vision blurred with tears, the edges of the room darkening as my body begged for release. But I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me shattered. I wouldn’t.
“Do you want to know something funny?” Bentley said, crouching down in front of me. His face was inches from mine, his breath warm and sickening. “The thing about electricity is, it leaves no mark. No evidence. Isn’t that poetic?”
I glared at him through the haze of pain, my voice barely a whisper. “You’ll… pay for this.”
His grin widened, his teeth bared like a wolf ready to devour. “Oh,” he said, his tone mockingly sweet. “I already have.”
