The kind of place I never even knew to dread dying in. This isn’t the life I ever could have expected for myself, not by a long shot, but now I suppress a sob. That’s all the bit of pride I can muster, to at least meet my death with some grace and dignity.
“Tie her to the bed,” says the snarling voice of the man who hauled me into his car, the cruel little goblin of a man.
There goes the last bit of my resolve, and I’m screaming again. I can handle the idea of being killed, my body never found, my mom left to mourn a daughter she doesn’t know is dead. I could, at least, make peace with that.
But being put on a bed by these goons, I know that spells trouble of a far greater magnitude, and fear jolts through me. I struggle, my arms nearly torn from their sockets as I yank against them, but they’re both taller and stronger than me by quite a lot.
What greets me isn’t the soft cushioning of a bed, however, not even the rough fabric of some dingy old mattress. It’s just hard metal springs of a bare bed frame digging into me as I’m pushed onto it and stretched out.
I’ve never felt so degraded and so terrified all at once. Every last bit of me wants to scream but my voice is hoarse. I can barely even breathe, and the throbbing of my bullet wound seems even worse now. I don’t know if it’s all in my head or what, but every part of me aches, like I’m being pulled apart.
“Shaddup!” screams the voice of that cruel one, the leader, right before he hits me across the face, knocking the feeble sounds from my lips.
As I sputter and cough from the blow, the two men tie me up so tightly that my poor wrists feel like they’re being sawed through by the rope. Every part of me is either in pain or in extreme discomfort, and I find myself just wishing I could disappear into the ground and be back home.
But when the word comes to mind — home — it isn’t my apartment I’m picturing. It’s Mikhail’s safehouse. Boring, bland, and filled with such red hot lust and passion I can barely contain myself. My home is him, now.
“Let me go,” I beg, almost sobbing the words out. But for my misery the leader yanks my hood off, ripping a few hairs from my head in the process.
“I said shut up!” he shouts, and I’m looking up at his beady-eyed face, so wild with anger, his hand garnished with a ton of glittering gemmed-rings upon it, poised and ready to hit me. “You speak when I tell you to, da?” he asks, getting up in my face, grinding his teeth.
I turn away from him, able to see around the building I’m in. I notice weird details about it, like how it’s not an abandoned factory as I thought, just some near-empty warehouse. I try to drink it all in, memorize every inch of it, just in case.
Just in case you discover telepathy? My inner voice asks, and I don’t even have the energy to fight back. I’m going to die here, and this disgusting man’s beady eyes are going to be the last thing I see.
But I guess instinct kicks in, some sense of self preservation, because I nod. I can’t die in here, and I’m going to do whatever I need to in order to survive.
That glaring troll grabs my face and twists me toward him, his own lips curled in an almost freakish manner.
“Tell me who was protecting you, huh? Who saved your ass from the hotel that night?!” He screamed that last question at me, trying to intimidate me in his pinstripe suit with his fist in the air.
I shouldn’t be so surprised by the question, but I am, and it takes me a second to even realize what he’s asking. He wants me to incriminate Mikhail, to say something against him. I don’t know why, but I guess it’s because he protected me, and that these were the guys that he’d warned me about. It sends a shiver down my spine, but I shake my head.
“I don’t know! I blacked out!” I say, and it’s truthful enough. I just hope I sound honest saying it.
“Don’t lie to me!” he screams at me, grabbing hold of my hair and wrenching my head forward to the limits of my bindings. “Tell me who it was!” he bellows, pulling out a knife from his pants pocket.
I feel like I’m going to be sick, even though I haven’t eaten in a long time. I can’t help it, I just start coughing, my stomach constricting with how scared I am. I’ve never been so afraid in all my life, and I beg myself just to tell him, to give him Mikhail’s name, but I know I could never do that!
I’ve fallen hard for my former kidnapper, and I know he was trying to save me. I saw him, wanting to protect me again from these thugs. How could I betray him after all we’ve been through?
Tears sting my eyes as my retching subsides, but I keep shaking my head. I don’t know when the words start spilling out, over and over, but I’m aware of myself saying, “I don’t know, it’s the truth,” over and over again.