Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Cold air blows on my shaking and naked body. My hands fist, and I arch my neck, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
Sagging in the restraints, the tears start to fall from the corner of my eyes while I try to calm my racing heart. It’s about to leap out of my chest. My breathing comes in short, rapid pants, and the room seems to spin. I think I’m going to be sick.
A bright light is turned on above me as if I’m strapped to an operating table and they’re about to perform surgery on me. It makes me flinch. It’s so blinding, and my body trembles at that thought.
My eyes are tightly closed, trying to block out the light when it’s moved to no longer shine down on my face. A hand grips my cheeks, and I start thrashing around to try to knock it off, but my arms are tied down by my sides, and the one around my neck makes it hard to move my head. The fingers dig into my cheeks, prying a whimper out of me, and my eyes spring open.
I look up into a set of red eyes, framed with a devil mask and two red horns. Fresh tears run down the sides of my face, and I sniff. “Pl-ease.”
Trying to catch my breath, I arch my neck, but his grip just tightens, smashing my cheeks into my teeth. He lets go, and I sag into the sticky leather. He reaches out and a clear mask is placed into his hand that has a long tube attached to it. He places the rubber mask over my mouth and nose. His tatted hand holds it in place, pressed into my face. I try to lift my hips off the table, but all it does is dig the straps into my skin.
My eyes go to the guy who had handed it to him, but all I see is the back of him. Jeans, black hoodie, and mask…the same as him.
“Please—” I sob. “Let me go.” My voice is muffled by the mask. Cold air covers my face, and I hold my breath, afraid to breathe it in. His free hand comes up, and I flinch when he touches my forehead, running it down over my hair. His touch is soft, almost lovingly compared to the way he gripped my cheeks.
My lungs start to burn, and my chest heaves as I continue to hold my breath. Tears fall from my eyes as I open my mouth and gasp in a deep breath, unable to hold it in any longer. Crying, I take another deep breath, and a calmness comes over me. A tingling sensation runs through my body to the tips of my fingers and toes. My body relaxes on the table. It’s as close to a high as I’ve ever experienced.
His hand continues to brush through my hair while I breathe in whatever is coming from the mask. My eyes grow heavy, my mind foggy. My vision goes in and out, and I blink several times before the devil mask becomes nothing more than a blur of white and black with red eyes and horns.
Is this what hell looks like?
I swear I hear a voice say “That’s my good girl” as everything fades away, and my tightly fisted hands unclench. But that’s just my mind playing tricks on me. I haven’t heard that in years. And the man who used to call me that is dead.
THIRTY-SEVEN
ASHTYN
I wake up, a moan escaping my lips. Rolling over onto my side, my hands come up to my face, and I cover my sensitive eyes to block out the bright light. When it doesn’t work, I grab the soft fluffy blanket, pull it up and over my face, and relax into the comfortable mattress.
My eyes instantly spring open, and I sit up gasping, shoving the covers off when everything comes rushing back to me.
I was awake, tied to a table, and the mask…he placed something over my face. My hands come up to my face once more, and my fingers quickly run over my skin, feeling for cuts or pain of any kind that will tell me if anything is broken.
My hands drop to my sides, and I let out a deep breath, but my ease quickly turns to panic when I feel something on my stomach.
I shove off the covers to see I’m naked. My 666 brand covering my pelvic bone is on full display. I always keep it covered with makeup when at work and washed it off when I take a shower back at home.
But that’s not the part that makes my heart skip a beat. No, it’s a small white bandage over my right hip. It’s got tape over it. The way I’m sitting, it’s pinching my skin.