“Can you untie my hands?”
“Nope.” Daniel pushed me forward. “Go on, be a good prancing pony and show us what you can do.”
My knees wobbled, but I shuffled forward. I didn’t know the room enough to avoid ottomans and small coffee tables. My eyes couldn’t look where my feet went. I was basically blind.
Their gaze burned into me as I made my way to the perimeter of the room and followed the wall as best I could. Couches forced me to go around; I bashed my knee on a magazine rack and stubbed my toe on a desk.
I felt like a prized pony on a race-track—keeping my head high, my knees higher, prancing for my life, only to fail and be shot for my efforts.
It took a long time to navigate and vertigo kept playing with my balance. I had to stop a couple of times, swaying uncomfortably. By the time I made my way past V for the third time, silent tears spilled from my eyes and I was on the precipice of breaking.
I wanted it over with. I wanted to be free. I wanted torun.
Run. Run. Run.
Vertigo grappled me again, hurling me headfirst into a vicious attack, scrambling me like whisked cream.
Shit!
I fell, tripping over something and colliding with air. There was nothing to catch me, nothing to stop me soaring from standing to dying.
Time slowed as I tumbled forward. My hands fought against the rope, and my mind screeched instructions.
Keep your head up! Keep your chin high!
My hands were tied. I couldn’t stop my trajectory. All I could do was pray I survived.
The thick carpet cushioned my knees as I slammed to the ground. My shoulders crumpled, and I cried out in agony as the prongs bit into my jaw and chest, biting their way into my flesh.
Am I dead?
I couldn’t tell.
Pain smarted from everywhere.
A shadow fell over me as Cut ducked to my level. “Whoops.” His lips spread into a horrific smile. “Sorry, my foot got in the way.”
And that was it.
That final tiny straw that made it almost impossible for me to keep going.
I withdrew into myself. I felt myself disappearing. My hate fizzled. My hope died. I had nothing else to give. Nothing else to feel. The throbbing of the wound no longer bothered me because my senses shut down.
There came a point when the body ceased feeling pain. The receptors were tired of transmitting an important message—only to have that message ignored.
I’d neglected my body for far too long and now it’d abandoned me.
Cut paused mid-chuckle, understanding I’d reached rock-bottom. Without a word, he unbuckled the fork and left me alone on the carpet.
Silence reigned heavily in the den. No one moved.
I didn’t care if I never moved again.
You won.
I don’t care what you do anymore.
They’d taken my innocence. My vengeance. My love. My life.
