Would I be just another name added to a list?
A pained cry left my lips as I started furiously rubbing the rope on my wrists together, hoping to fray the ends. I couldn’tgo out like this. I wouldn’t die in this basement, surrounded by vomit and rodents. I was going to live or die trying to escape.
It didn’t take long for blood to soak the rope as the fibers rubbed against my skin, tearing the flesh.
“No,” I hissed, barely holding back the tears. “Come on!”
But no matter how long I rubbed, the only thing I was doing was hurting myself.
Sniffling back the snot and tears, I desperately looked around for anything I could use to saw through the ropes, but there was nothing.
I had no way to defend myself if he came down here again, and after what I did the last time, I knew that wouldn’t work again. I could fight as hard as I wanted, but I would never get the upper hand like that a second time.
As if my thoughts summoned the devil himself, a door opened at the top of the stairs and footsteps descended once again. I sat up as best I could, trying to calm my racing heart as the man turned the corner and strode toward me, eating an apple.
“Well, look who’s awake,” he grinned. With a pocketknife, he sliced into the apple, cutting off a bite for himself. As he chewed, he grinned at me, holding out the apple. “Want a bite?”
My eyes drifted to the apple, the knife still in his hands, but I said nothing. If I could find a way to get my hands on that knife, I might stand a chance of getting out of here alive.
“You know, that was a stupid move you made earlier. I have to admit, I didn’t think you had that much fight in you.”
Tossing the apple aside, he shoved his thumb in his mouth, sucking the juice from his skin. Heart hammering, I desperately tried not to watch as he closed the pocket knife and slipped it into his front pocket.
I calculated all the ways I could get my hands on it. If I could draw him in…If I allowed him to take what he wanted, maybe Icould grab it. But that would mean letting this disgusting man between my thighs.
I nearly vomited at the thought.
His hand slid up my bare leg again, and I flinched, shuffling back as he laughed at me. I squeezed my eyes closed, fighting back the terror as his hand continued to travel up my leg. I had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
The knife. You have to get the knife.
But even as I thought it, I realized that with my hands tied to the pole, there was no way I would be able to reach into his pocket and take it.
“Are you gonna fight me like last time?” he whispered, his mouth just inches from my ear.
My eyes flew open, and I didn’t think as I spat in his face. The hard lines of his face tightened in anger as he swiped the spit from his cheek. Then his hand flew to my hair, gripping the strands tightly.
“That’s it, baby girl. Fight me. Make me hard.”
I pursed my lips, pulling away from him as much as possible as he leaned in and licked a trail down my neck. Then his hand was on my chest, shoving the material aside as he groped my breast, squeezing hard.
“Fuck, these tits. So fucking perfect. I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of this.”
A whimper left my lips, but I quickly swallowed it.
But not fast enough. He leaned back, smirking at me with a gleam in his eyes so evil that a part of me broke. Standing in front of me with one leg on either side of mine, he trapped me in, making it impossible to fight him off like I did last time.
The ominous sound of his zipper lowering sent me spiraling. I thought of Ryder, of my bed and a perfect lazy Saturday with him. Anything to distract myself from the horror in front of me.But the moment his musky smell hit me, I knew there was no escaping.
He grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I cried out. But the terror was not nearly as bad as the reality as he forced himself inside me. I gagged as his length hit the back of my mouth, but that only seemed to fuel his desire.
Crying and twisting, I fought as hard as I could, trying to pry my mouth away from his body.
“Fuck, baby. That’s it. Take me deep inside you.”
His jeans smacked against me, something hard hitting my bone.
The knife.
