Page 76 of Pretty Little Fears

“HopeVerena’sinto it as much as you are, weirdo.”Iquip and chuckle.

Brushingthe dirt and residue from the explosion off of my body,Istare out at the house.Theflames flicker and dance, my mind returning again to my thoughts ofBlair.Ithurts to think about her, butIhave to.Ineed to feel that pain to remain motivated.

Thesmell of burning flesh and gasoline fills my nostrils.Whata lovely campfire.

Checkinganother body off the list gives me some semblance of peace, but it's a facade to keep me from self-destructing.

Kill.Kill.KILL.

I’mcoming, my little obsession.

I’mcoming.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

BLAIR

Myeyesopen andI'massaulted by the bright lights shining through the window.Iwince and squeeze them back shut, attempting to ward off the light of yet another day.Ifthe rising and setting sun are any indication, it's been two days.Twodays of no food or water.Mymouth is dry and it hurts to blink.

Ihad woken up with my hands and feet no longer cuffed to the bed.Iwas able to stretch my legs and look for a way out of this hellhole.Thebedroom door has remained locked, but being freed was a step in the right direction.

I’veonly gotten up twice to use the bathroom, each timeIwas accompanied.Iwould stick my head under the faucet and greedily drink down the water.Ittasted awful, but it was better than dying of dehydration.

Beingable to move around gave me a fake sense of normalcy, of freedom.Thatis, untilIspotted the bloodied trailIleft behind.Theconstant reminder of my loss, my heartache, and my impending doom.

Lorenzohasn’t bothered me since the first dayIarrived and woke up cuffed to the bed.Idon’t know whether to be thankful for his lack of presence or fearful of what that could mean.

Thesmell of eggs clouds my senses before the heavy thud of footsteps reaches my ears.Mybody tenses, my primal instincts kicking in, alerting me to the danger that’s close by.Sincemy last trip to the bathroom,I’veremained curled up on the leather chaise, unmoving while my eyes stayed glued to the door.Theclick of locks disengaging and the doorknob turning causes my heart to race.

Ican't recall the last timeIhad an actual meal that didn’t consist of my own spit and five fingers to the face.Clearly, it's been a while judging by the thunderous rumbling of my stomach that’s loud enough to let my company knowI'mawake.Lorenzobarges in, trailed by a waiter holding a covered tray.Thewaiter sets down the meal on the bedside table and exits promptly, sparing me a quick glance.

“Good.You’reawake,”Lorenzoremarks, his voice carrying a mixture of authority and possessiveness. “Eat, baby girl.Onceyou’re done,I'vearranged for you to freshen up for me.”Themere thought ofLorenzoseeing me unclothed and touching my skin makes me nauseous.Anyhint of hungerImight have felt vanishes instantly.

Iclench my jaw tightly, struggling to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over the surface.Igive him a subtle shake of my head.Irefuse to give him a response.He’llprobably take a lot from me, but he can't take my voice.Iwon't let him touch my mind, either.Myhunger might be gnawing at me, but ifIcan delay the inevitable of him touching me,Iwill.I'drather allow my insides to devour themselves beforeIaccept his offered food and have to suffer the consequences that follow.

“Itwasn’t a fucking option!”Heroars, picking up the food, the plate of eggs shakes in his hand.Hisknuckles turn white with the intensity of his grip on the plate, and beforeIcan even blink, he's launching it at me.Theglass plate shatters against my skull, causing me to see spots.Thepain doesn't register as quickly, delaying the feeling of my skin being sliced by the plate and burned from the scalding food.

Iclamp down my jaw, biting my tongue as hard asIcan to keep my sobbing at bay.Irefrain from wiping the food from my face, in fear of whatLorenzocould do next.Peeringat him through the splattered eggs, his eyes harden on mine. “Nowyou get no food, and your need for a bath is immediate.Sucha foolish little girl you are,” he hisses.Noamount of pressure on my tongue could keep the tears from spilling over my eyelashes, refusing to be held in any longer.

Whyis this happening to me?Idon't know whatIdid to deserve this.Myvision grows hazy as dizziness sets in.Ican't determine whether it's from the blow to my head, the scalding food smeared on my face, or the lack of sustenance and hydration.

Mythroat tightens as the anger bubbles beneath the surface, and tears of anger flow freely down my cheeks.AngerthatIam physically powerless to fight back right now.Angerthat, within my first ten minutes of knowing about my pregnancy,Ihad already lost my baby.Angerthat these assholes only care about my life when they can make a pretty penny off of it.

Ilock eyes with him, narrowing my own,Ipray it conveys the level of hatredIhave towards him. “You’relucky the blood between your thighs has dried,Iwas willing to pretend thatIwas taking you for the first time.It'sa shame you’re all used up.”Heshrugs. “Eatyour food.Hurryup.Someonewill arrive shortly to bathe you.”Lorenzobarks.Withoutanother word, he’s leaving the room, the click of the lock causing my heart to ache once more.

Bringingmy trembling fingers to my face,Igrip the hot food and bring it to my mouth.Idon’t care how gross it is.I’mfucking starving.Afterone bite, my shaking hands quickly begin scooping at the eggs splattered on my face and body, shoveling them into my mouth.

Tenminutes pass by and my heart begins to race, praying thatLorenzohas sent a female staff member instead of attending to me himself.MaybeI’llhave some extra strength from the food andIcan manage to escape.Myhopes are short-lived because the secondIhear the footsteps in the hall,Iknow it’s him.Theclick-clack of his dress shoes is a dead giveaway that he’s coming for me.

Lorenzobursts through the door, making it swing and hit the wall as he strides past me into the bathroom, not uttering a word.Ihear the sound of the faucet turning on and water beginning to run.

Myheart hammers in my chest, and a rush of adrenaline courses through me.Thatfickle feeling of hope flutters in me, prayingI’mable to clean my own body.Thegurgle of water ceases and the squeak of the faucet tells me the tub is filled.

Heiscoming for me.

Lorenzo'smuscular build fills the doorway and he leans on the frame, his hungry eyes scanning every inch of my body. “Aren'tyou lucky?I’vedecided to do it myself.”Heflashes his demonic smile and a wave of disgust washes over me.Itry to disguise the cringe that racks through my body asIrealizeI'mstill wearing the blood-soaked shortsI'vehad on since my arrival.

“Strip,” he demands, his voice harsh and laced with authority.Ihesitate, but the thought of disobeying him and meeting his wrath sends a chill down my spine.Reluctantly,Islowly pull off the shorts, hoping to delay the inevitable.

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