Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
I’d tried to do the right thing, and it landed me in a stranger’s possession.
All I could do was hope I got out of this alive.
–Chapter Six–
Harper
I was pacing the cell when a blinding white light flickered on, illuminating everything around me.
I blinked rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the sudden change.
Now able to see, I summarized I was in a basement. I glanced around in search of any possible exits, but couldn’t find a single one.
The area outside the cell drew my biggest concern and brought fear boiling to the surface. It looked like something straight out of a B-grade horror film.
There was a gynecological chair sitting in the center of the room, looking like it had been handcrafted in hell, with a plastic drop cloth underneath it. Four blue nylon straps were attached to it, and some type of bloody bar was set on top of it. A thick black chain hung from the ceiling behind its headrest.
Aside from that, there was a large industrialized shelf against the back wall, lined with various containers along the top. All were labeled Oxygen Bleach, which explained the chemical smell. A few syringes, dildos, and gags sat on the bottom.
Attached to the opposite wall was a stainless steel sink with more plastic lining its inside. An antique chest, massive metal dog cage, and solid folding chair were the only other items in the room.
My mind raced with every possible scenario for why someone would need a setup such as this.
Heavy footsteps echoed around the basement as they descended a set of worn wooden stairs off to the far left.
I scampered to the opposite back corner, not wanting to be right beside the bed.
My heart sank the second I saw his face. If he was allowing me to see who he was, he had no intention of letting me go. Not alive, at least.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he greeted, smiling brightly.
His cheerfully sunny disposition threw me off-kilter. I studied him, disgusted by the way his eyes seemed to devour my body from head to toe.
He didn’t look anything like I thought he would.
I expected to see a man physically flawed and rugged, but what I got was the opposite.
His hair was nearly auburn and neatly styled, while his build was more on the athletic side. He had a face meant to charm and deceive.
“Do you approve?” he asked, approaching the cell door.
I kept my mouth clamped shut, refusing to say a word. Had he not kidnapped me, I may have found him attractive. Good looks didn’t mean shit if the person underneath them was a deranged psychopath.
“Playing the silent game? I guess that’s better than begging to know why you’re here, but I’m going to tell you anyway, soon.”
He unlocked the cell door with a tiny golden key, and stepped inside.
“Go sit on your bed,” he commanded softly.
That was it?
He expected me to be obedient?
Shifting my eyes between him and the bare mattress, I shook my head from side to side. “That’s not my bed.”
He smirked. “Of course it’s your bed. This is your home now.”
“My home?” I parroted, releasing a bitter laugh. “You’re fucking crazy.”
His dark brows furrowed, mouth turning down at the sides. “I’ll let that completely ridiculous insult slide just this once because you’re new, but please don’t make me ask again.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go fuck himself, but something in his voice had my brain warning me to be cautious.
Keeping a wide berth to maintain personal space, I did what he wanted.
Now standing beside the twin sized mattress, I watched him, waiting with bated breath, wondering what he’d do next.
“Good, good.” He nodded. “Now, why don’t you have a seat?”
If there was one thing I didn’t want to do, it was have a fucking seat. But what was my other option?
There were two parts of my mind, each stressing their opinion. Rationality knew what this was going to escalate to. Denial had me wrapped tight in a false sense of security, believing I could find a way out of this.
Eyeing the surprisingly clean mattress with more than a little trepidation, I slowly sunk down and tucked my knees into my chest.
“See, that wasn’t so hard. Relax a little; there’s no need to be uptight,” he said, flashing me a smile. “Now before we go any further I think you should at least know my name, don’t you?”
“How is knowing your name going to help me?”
“Uh, it won’t,” he laughed softly, “but it will give you something to scream, something to plead when you’re begging for a reprieve from all the pain. Hell, something to sit down here and curse when you’re all alone.”
A sour taste flooded my mouth. I scooted backward, pressing myself against the wall.
He held up his palm in a steadying gesture. “Hey, you don’t have to worry about that yet. I only have about three hours, and I’d like to spend them getting acquainted.”