Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 47626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, Piccola. Of course you are hungry. Here why don’t I order you something light, while you shower. I will lay out some clothes I brought with me for you. How does that sound?” Oh God. I am about to cry thinking of water touching my skin. “Oh and I put some girly smelling shit in the shower for you,” he says gruffly. It brings a slight smirk to my face before I remember I don’t know what is happening and if I can really trust him. So I simply thank him.
“A shower would be great,” I tell him nodding my head. Nodding back at me, he gets up from the bed.
“I am going to give you some privacy. Would you like to eat in here or out there?” He points to the main part of the plane.
“I-I don't know,” I tell him honestly.
“It’s okay. You shower and if you are not out there when the food comes I will take it as a sign you want to eat here.”
“Okay.” Nodding he leaves the room and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I am not sure if it was because he is incredibly handsome or because he scares me. I think a bit of both. On autopilot I start going through the room looking for prescriptions, alcohol, anything to make this pain go away. I need a fix and I need it badly.
Once I have gone through every inch of the small room, I give up and go into the bathroom slowly. The shaking is getting worse and soon I am going to throw up. I know because as part of the fun for them, they would withhold the needle from me to see how crazy I would get until I puked all over myself from the withdrawal. It has been almost twenty-fours since the last dose.
I strip off the filthy clothes if you could call them that and turn on the water. I turn to look in the mirror and I put my hand to my mouth. I knew I wouldn't look like myself, but never in a million years did I picture this broke down, shell of nothingness I am staring at.
I check the water because I want it to be as hot as possible to wash off everything that has happened. I get into the shower, soap up the sponge and rub it over my body. I start off slow, languishing in the feeling of being clean and that turns into pure tears and rage.
My hands begin to move roughly and savagely, my skin turning red from the scorching water and my brutal treatment. Logically I know I should stop but I just want it all off of me. Over and over I cry and scrub, scrub and cry. I don’t realize I am screaming and bleeding until he comes storming into the room.
“Shit. Stop, Piccola. You are hurting yourself.” I can hear him, but my mind is lost in a sea of pain and addiction. I ignore his pleas and continue trying to make myself brand new, until I feel him. His hands touch my bare skin and I flinch and jump back. “Fuck. Dead fuckers,” he growls before touching my cheeks. “I am not going to hurt you, Satine. I swear it. But please stop hurting yourself.” My chest is heaving up and down as I try to catch my breath. Turning my back to hide the tears, I realize my mistake when he growls and touches the scars. “Jesus. What did they do to you?” What didn’t they do?
Five
Larabee
Fucking shit! Looking at her back it is obvious she has been beaten and tortured, but I suspect there is something else. She hasn’t stopped shaking since I came for her and of course I expect her to be shook up and afraid, but this is more. This is the look of someone addicted to something and going through the early stages of withdrawal. By the looks of how badly her body is reacting, I would say it has been a solid twenty-four hours since they doped her up.
“I am so sorry you had to go through that, Piccola. The doctor is here to look you over. Will you let him check you over?” Nodding her head, she continues to whine and shake. I want more than anything to pull her into my arms and reassure her, but I don’t know the extent of her trauma. I don’t want to trigger her more. “Do you promise not to do that again?”
“Y-yes. I promise. I just wanted to be clean. I wanted it all to go away, but it’s not, is it?” I don’t fucking know how to answer that, so I simply step out of the shower and give her one last glance.