Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Adeline
Waking up, I become instantly alert to Sam dressing me. I have some movement back as I try to flex my fingers without him noticing. Opening my eyes, he is leaning over the top of me.
“Welcome back, sleepy head,” he says, kissing my unresponsive lips.
I try to turn my face away, but he grips my chin before forcing his tongue in my mouth. My entire body feels stiff.
I bite down on him, and he jerks back before his fist connects with my face. My face instantly swells from the blow, shooting pain spreading from my eye to my temple. Yet I am still not strong enough to move away from him.
“You fucking dare bite me after everything I have done for you?” he says, gripping a handful of my hair and jerking my head up painfully.
My hair is torn from the roots, and I cry out. He lets go, his eyes softening slightly.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ada. Can’t you see that you give me no choice?” he says, walking away before returning with some handcuffs.
“I am going to take you out now, so you can eat. Are you going to behave?” he asks, my eyes on the handcuffs in his hand.
I try to nod, and he looks down at me.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, wanting me to answer.
“Yes…” I croak out, my throat feeling dry.
He clasps the cuff on one of my wrists. I am not sure where he thinks I would run off to when I can’t even feel my legs.
He walks to the dresser before returning with lip balm in his hands; he puts it on my lips, and I rub them together, the balm stinging slightly.
I can feel my right eye closing from where he punched me as I try to see out the slit of my eye.
Sam then picks me up, carrying me from the room before placing me at the table on a chair.
He cuffs my hand to the table leg and then walks into the kitchen.
I try to keep my head upright when I suddenly realize what I am wearing.
A sob escapes my lips when I see the lacy fabric.
He’s put me in white lingerie. The cami is completely see-through, my nipples sticking out from the cold, pressed against the lace, and he’s put me in some lace underwear that is also embarrassingly see-through.
My entire body is covered in goosebumps, and my hair is slightly damp, like he has bathed me again.
Sam sets a plate in front of me before grabbing his own.
I look at the plate. It has steak and mashed potato with some peas on it.
How long have I been out that he has had time to leave and come back?
Time’s completely escaped me; I could have been here for weeks or days with him knocking me out constantly.
Looking outside, it is dark, and I can’t remember if it was dark before I went to sleep or light, everything blurring into one long nightmarish day.
He puts his plate on the table sitting across from me.
He places a spoon next to me before taking my plate and cutting the meat into tiny pieces.
He spears a piece with his fork before holding the fork to my lips.
He presses the meat against them, and I force my mouth open.
My face is aching from the movement as I try to chew it.
The task of chewing is harder than I realize, and my tongue feels like rubber.
“Good?” he asks, and I nod my head once.
Sam puts my plate in front of me before walking around and placing my free arm on the table next to the spoon.
“Eat,” he says before sitting across from me.
I move my fingers, trying to grab the spoon.
I fumble with it a few times. My arms feel like they are held down by lead.
Grabbing it, I try to scoop the potato up on it; not being able to lift my head completely makes it difficult, so I drop the spoon on the plate.
He hits the table with his fist, making me flinch.
“Eat it, Ada,” he says like he thinks I’ve deliberately dropped the spoon.
I focus on the spoon, making sure I grip it harder, but I can barely feel it in my hand.
I scoop the potato again and then have the hard task of lifting my hand to my mouth.
I am starving and can’t remember the last time I ate.
Shit, I don’t even know what day it is. I get the spoon up only for the potato to drop off at the last second.
My stomach drops when I hear his chair screech along the wooden floor, and he gets up.
I try to move away but would only risk falling sideways and angering him more.
Sam jerks my head back by the hair. Tears start brimming in my eyes at the sharp movement when he grabs a handful of food off my plate before jamming it in my mouth and smearing it on my face.
I cough as he forces food into my mouth.
“I said fucking eat,” he screams in my face as I try not to choke, mash potato getting up my nose, blocking my airways and making me cough and breathe in the food he has managed to get in my mouth.
I start choking, but he doesn’t care, instead forcing more in my mouth before I can even swallow.
I gasp for air when he suddenly lets go, my head falling forward heavily as I spit what is in my mouth into my lap.
“Now you need another bath. What is wrong with you?” he snaps as he sits back down.
He slides a cup of water to me and I almost burst out crying.
How does he expect me to drink it?
He reaches over, grabbing my arm and putting it on the table again.
“Eat,” he says, and I feel tears roll down my cheeks as I force myself to grab the spoon again.
It is no use. I can’t do it and he just gets angrier each time I drop it. He pushes his chair out again, and fear chokes me before I feel something wet run down my legs. A whimper leaves my lips when I realize I have just wet myself. Sam’s boots stop next to my chair.
“Fucking disgusting,” he says as I try to stop myself from urinating.
He walks off, grabbing a towel before dropping it next to me on the floor and using his foot to mop it up.
“You are deliberately trying to irritate me,” he mutters, and I flinch away from his hand as it grabs the table next to my arm.
I gulp, fear flooding me; I am completely at his mercy. He grabs the spoon, shoving it in my hand.
“Last warning, Ada. Now, fucking eat,” he says.
“I can’t,” I sob, and he jerks my head back by the hair again.
“What?” he snaps at me, his face barely an inch off mine.
“I can’t feel my fingers,” I try to tell him.
He stops, looking down at my hand that has fallen in my lap.
“Oh, you should have told me, baby,” he says as I look at him with my one good eye.
Is he insane? He’s fucking drugged me; he should know I can’t move.
He pulls his chair over to me before turning mine to face him.
He grabs my plate, putting it on his lap before holding my chin up, scooping some food with the spoon, and bringing it to my lips.
I open my mouth accepting the food, not wanting to anger him and he continues to spoon-feed me.
I try not to erupt in tears at the humiliation.
When he is done, he gets up and walks into the kitchen before coming back with a wet cloth and washing my face that is sticky with dried potato and peas from him nearly choking me to death.
“You really made a mess of yourself,” he says, cleaning my face.
“I will run you a bath,” he says, getting up and walking away, leaving me sitting there.
My arm is aching from being held awkwardly behind me stuck to the table leg.
I hear the water running, and he returns a few minutes later, unlocking the handcuff and releasing me, my arms falling heavily by my side.
He grabs me, carrying me into the bathroom, before setting me down on the toilet.
He undresses me awkwardly as he slides the lace panties off and the see-through cami.
He puts me in the bath before walking out.
I watch the water rise higher and higher as it reaches my chin.
“Sam!” I call out when it is nearly to my lips.
I hear the front door open and my body is slipping down the tub from the slippery surface covered in soap from the bubbles.
“Sam?” I choke out, coughing on the water, my fingers trying to push me up when I find myself sinking lower into the water; the temperature is burning my face. I suddenly feel hands grip my arms, pulling me up above the surface.
“Shit, Ada, sorry. Went to put your clothes in the fire pit,” he says as I cough and sputter on the water.
“Don’t worry. I have another red set, you can wear,” he says, grabbing the soap.
His hand holding my arm is the only thing stopping me from slipping under the water’s surface again.
I suddenly wish I did drown. He pulls the plug after washing me before grabbing a towel.
He dresses me in disgusting red-lace lingerie, jerking my limp body around as he pulls the panties up.
He walks out before returning with a syringe. I choke on the sob that escapes me.
“Can’t have you putting up a fight now, can we?” he says grabbing my arm.
“I won’t fight. Please, no more,” I blurt out.
He stops, looking down at me. “It won’t knock you out. It’ll just make sure you do your duty.”
“My duty?”
“Yes. How do you expect to carry our children without us having sex?” he says.
This isn’t sex. I don’t know what delusional world he is living in but to me that is called rape. He knows I don’t want this. How can anyone after what he has done to me?
He stabs the needle in my arm.
“Wait, stop! I won’t fight, I will be good,” I tell him, not wanting to be drugged again.
I need to find a way out of this situation and there is no way for me to survive him if I can’t fight back.
Sam stares at me. “You’re not trying to trick me, are you? I will be very angry if you are, Ada,” he says, and I manage to shake my head.
“You try anything and you will be punished, Ada. I will drug you and keep you locked in this room, understood?” he says, looking down at me, and my stomach twists painfully at what I am about to let him do, all for the sake of escaping.
They will forgive me. They will have to understand, right?
I ask myself, thinking of my mates and what they would think of the situation I am in.
I should have listened to their warnings about Sam.
I suddenly wish I was back home, tucked safely away with them; at least they won’t hurt me or subject me to this.
Sam pulls the needle out, and I sigh in relief that he isn’t going to drug me before he moves me up to the center of the bed.
“Now you behave, and I will take good care of you,” he says, brushing my hair off my face before kissing me.
I clench my eyes shut, praying that it will be over quickly. Praying for some miracle that they’ll find me.