The words don’t make sense.Nothingmakes sense anymore. Not since I walked into this apartment, ready to see what Knight had found and hopefully find my brother. Not since the first time this psychopath pressed a gun against my head.
He leans forward, reaching out with one hand, and I try to twist away.
“Keep still.” His voice is clipped.
He ignores my struggles, and uses one hand on my shoulder to push me forward.
There’s a soft click, then my right hand is free. A scream tears from my throat as my arm straightens. White-hot agony rips through muscles locked in position for what seems like forever. My shoulder feels like it’s being torn apart, tendons stretched to breaking. I can’t straighten my fingers, can’t control the violent tremors wracking my arm. Every beat of my heart sends fresh waves of fire through nerves waking up after hours of numbness.
When the second cuff releases, I crash sideways into the radiator, unable to coordinate any movement. Bile burns the back of my throat, my muscles spasm and lock, refusing to obey any command. I need to get away from him, but I can’t even lift my hands, can’t make my arms do anything except shake and burn.
"Easy." He reaches for me.
Panic surges through me, and I scramble backward, my useless arms pressed against my chest. Each movement sends fresh waves of agony through my shoulders. Every inch feels like I’m being stabbed with hot pokers.
“Don’t touch me!” My shriek echoes off the walls.
Every muscle screams as I try to push myself up the wall, but my legs won’t hold me. They’re too numb, too weak from sitting in one position for so long. Pins and needles stab through my feet, my calves, my thighs.
“Your wrists need looking at. The handcuffs have cut them.” There’snothingin his voice. No remorse for what he’s done to me, no regret.
“I need you to stay away from me.” My voice breaks.
He stands, rising to what looks like a huge height from my position on the floor, blocking the doorway. Blocking my escape. My skin feels too tight, sweat breaking out across my forehead, despite the chill in the air. The room tilts sideways.
“Move.” I try to sound strong, determined, but it comes out desperate. “Let me go.”
“Not until?—”
Something inside me snaps.
I lurch to my feet, and my palm cracks across his face before I can stop myself. The impact jolts up my arm, but I don’t care. This pain feelsgood. Hours of terror, helplessness, and humiliation explode out of me in a rush of animal fury that gives me the power to ignore the agony I’m in.
I hit him again.Again. My arms scream in protest, but I can’t stop. Iwon’tstop. Each blow is weaker than the last, but it doesn’t matter.Nothingmatters, except making him hurt. Making him feel just a fraction of what he’s done to me. My shoulders burn. My hands are numb. But I keep swinging.
“You bastard!” Another hit. The satisfaction of it ripples through abused muscles. “You absolute fuckingbastard!”
His body tenses under my hands, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop me. He just stands there while I beat uselessly against his chest. Until my arms drop like lead weights. Until the rage burns out, leaving nothing but bone-deep exhaustion, a heaving chest, and tremors I can't control.
My legs give out. His arms catch me before I hit the floor, and I sob—harsh, ugly sounds that tear through my chest. I should fight. I should pull away. I should doanythingexcept sag against him while he holds me up.
But I can’t.
I cry until my throat feels like sandpaper, until my ribs ache with each breath, until my face is raw from pressing against his shirt. Sobs wrack my body, tearing through abused muscles.
Ihatethat I need his support to stay upright.Hatethat I’m touching him at all.Hatethat the same hands that cuffed me to a radiator are now keeping me from collapsing.
“I need to move you.” His voice is flat. “You need food and your wrists need medical attention.”
Fresh terror rises, clogging my throat.
Move me where?
Now the burst of adrenaline has left me, my legs are deadweight, useless after being curled under me for so long. He’ll have to carry me.Touchme. Hold me closer against him. My skin crawls at the thought of his hands on me again after everything he’s done.
“No!” I try to push away from him. “Where’s Knight? What did you do to him?”
“Itoldyou. I’m Knight.”