33
I etch another notch in the stone wall using the edge of my shackle.
If I don't, I'll lose track of my days. Two notches.
Two. Vesper has to be worried sick. I wonder what story Kieran has told her.
He's a liar. He's dangerous, obsessive, and compulsive.
Never did I think I would be kidnapped and held captive.
I’m dying to have some entertainment. My phone was taken away like a child.
I slip on a pink dress and layer it with a black sweatshirt from the pile he left.
I shroud myself in the blanket. The entire evening after he left me alone, I spent fighting a panic attack.
All I want to do was claw my own skin off to escape the flowing thoughts of worthlessness and loathing.
I scratch at my skin until it's bloody and raw.
It's the only way to drown out the thoughts.
They're loud; screaming. The panic slowly builds until I lose all sense of control. I focus on evening out my breathing.
In.
Out.
I pace around the mausoleum. Or at least as far as my confines allow, which isn't more than six feet in either direction.
After he fucked my mouth and left me a crying heap on the floor, I mustered up the energy to look for an escape.
There was none. He thought of everything.
The metal shackles are inches wide and embedded in the thick stone wall.
The doors are padlocked. The putrid smell of death wafts into my nostrils every so often.
Coffers and crypts line each side of the entombed room.
“Hmmm.” A low hum echoes along the walls.
My head snaps around. Kieran has his arms resting above his head against the bars. The midday sun basks through the grate. He cocks his head. Instead of smug arrogance, I'm met with revulsion. It leaves a metallic distaste on my tongue. His lip curls in disgust.
His eyes scan lazily over my body with repugnance. My hair is a tangled, dirty mess. My skin is caked in squalid grime. The only thing I have in my favor is hoping my dirt-stained body will repulse him. Maybe that's exactly why he's looking at me that way.
“Ready to let me out, asshole?” I fire.
He unlocks the padlock without a word leaving the door rattling. He strides across the room and wraps his tattooed hand around my throat cutting off my air. His veiny forearms bulge. Rage overtakes him in a way I've never seen before. He steals my breath from my lungs.
Fight, Clara. Fight!
My arms sag at my sides. Stars brighten my eyes.
My heartbeat slows to a dull thump. “Why do you have to be so Goddamn broken?”
He heaves against me, spewing hatred against my skin.
He speaks as if I'm tormenting him. Darkness threatens to pull me under.
Memories fill my head. Painful ones. Happy ones.
Dark ones . . . Then, he releases me. I gasp in a deep breath and bowl over to my knees.
The truth is finally out. You're still not sure whether she should take him back.
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My shackles clatter against the floor.
I suck in breath after breath as if it is my last. The cold floor seeps into my bones. My eyes stay trained on the concrete ground beneath my feet.
He remains unmoved in front of me. Slowly, my gaze skims up his frame.
He’s a disheveled mess, too. Loose jeans curve over his bulky frame.
His obsidian boxy blazer wraps around his torso like a glove, layering over his gray sweatshirt.
Both are snug and revealing every inch of his muscular frame.
The crazed look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.
The same eyes of a lost soul. Someone grappling with their own internal trauma. What that is, I don't know.
The anger melts away momentarily, replaced by commiseration. His monsters are consuming him whole. Just like mine. He threatens to pull me to his depths of uncertainty.
His gaze burns into me. I can't decipher his thoughts, though I want to. Why? I don't know. Clearly I'm losing brain cells being isolated like this. What other social explanation would there be?
“Why am I here?” I finally ask. Maybe I scratch the surface of Kieran. If anything it'll keep me alive another day. I’m still clueless if he's here to fuck me or kill me. Better to assume the worst.
A half smirk builds over his face. He crouches to my level.
He drags his eyes over my body in a manic intensity that rocks my core.
He reaches out and for a second I think he may actually be tender.
Instead, he cups my pussy, making me straighten on my knees.
I wince. My clit is still sore thanks to him.
“I want to use you. I want to own you. I want your complete submission. You're an anomaly, sweetheart.”
His face tightens. “One I can’t fucking stand,” he spews.
Despite his cruel words, his diamond eyes are enticing.
They sparkle in the filtered light. So, I do exactly what Mama would tell me to do. I smash my lips against his.
Immediately, it backfires. My lips tingle.
He rears back, pushing me away with the heel of his hand.
The loss leaves me feeling strangely empty.
His brows knit in confusion and disgust like he's been slapped.
His eyes triangle over my face. We exchange glances in silence.
The room feels electrified. Just when I think he's going to kiss me back, he rises to his feet.
His eyelids shroud over the top of his irises making him look sinister.
I shuffle backward toward the wall. He's in there, dormant.
His watchful gaze follows my subtle movements.
My insides are burning alive. I'm a raging inferno, meanwhile he's the match waiting to ignite me.
Did I go too far? Something tells me he is immune to my advances. I never was good at manipulation.
“You wanna play with fire? You're gonna get burned.” he twists a strand of my dirty strands.
A threat? A promise? I'm petrified to find out.