Page 85 of Pretty Little Fears

Neitheroption is preferred butIdon’t truly have the luxury of a choice.Pickingthe lesser of two evils,Iturn my head back in his direction and force my eyes to open.Toappease him,Istare directly at the bottom of his shirt.Tohim, it must look likeI'mwatching.Ican still see the movement below my eyesight butIhope that ifIfocus hard enough on the threadsof his shirt, it'll be less noticeable.Thatit'll just be a blur.

Itdoesn't take long for liquid to start spraying on my face and grunts to hit my ears.Ishut my eyes and squeeze them as hard asIcan.Thestrained sounds that he releases are just as gross as what he's currently doing to me.

Withmy eyes squeezed shut,Irefuse to open them.MaybeifIdon’t look at the damage he has causedIcan pretend that it’s not there.Thatit didn’t happen.Aswarm liquid drips down my face,Ihear his footsteps retreat and the door to my cage clicking shut, letting me know he’s finally left.

Iopen my eyes to make sure he's gone and my ears aren't playing tricks on me.Thesticky substance covering my face drips into my eye, making it sting.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”Iwhisper-yell.Itfucking stings soIquickly rub my eyes, trying to get the warm liquid off my face.

Thefeeling of his cum on my skin, whileItry to clear it from my vision, makes me fucking sick.It’sspreading and rubbing into my flesh,Ican’t fucking get rid of it.Igag but continue to use my hands to rub it off.Asmall drop touches my lips andIcan't hold back my reaction.

Bilerises in my throat andIthrow up, once again covering myself in my own vomit.Atleast this time there was nothing in my stomach so it's mainly just acid.Mythroat burns and my chest hurts with the action asIdry heave.Thesmell doesn't help either.Theforce of my body trying to expel nothing, fucking hurts.

Whenmy body stops convulsing andI'vebecome used to the smell,Ilean back up and spot the raggedy material.Theblanket was left close enough thatIcan grab it soIdo.Icover my body withthe scratchy material and allow it to wrap me up in its false sense of security.

Toprotect me.

MaybeifIhide underneath and remain still long enough the monster won’t notice me, or perhaps they’ll forgetI’meven here.Atleast that's what we believed as kids.Ifyou stay as still as possible under the covers, the monster wouldn’t be able to hurt you.

Theonly difference is this monster isn't imaginary, andIcan’t hide from him.

WhenIno longer feel likeI'mgoing to expel the acid from my insides,Ilay down.Iturn my back to the door and face the cement wall.Thescratches on the wall make my heart sink.Smallrocks line the floor soIpick one up and turn it over in my hand.Onecorner is sharper than the rest.Irub the pad of my finger over it.Thesharp point isn't enough for me to harm myself orLorenzo.

Ilift the small rock to the wall and drag it down, making a tally mark.Irepeat the process until the mark is scratched into the cement and then do it again.I'mnot sure how longI'vebeen here but maybe this will help me start to keep track.

Icontinue to make tallies untilI'vereached five, it’s an estimate but the few daysI’vespent here have felt like years.Thetips of my fingers start to bleed as my nails crack from being dragged against the cement.Thesound makes me wince, butIkeep going.Thepain, a distraction from the turmoil surrounding me.

Idrop the now bloodied sliver of rock to the ground and tuck my hands in under my chin.Peeringup at the tallies, a sense of dread washes over me.Iwonder if anyone is coming to save me.Ihave a strong inklingEmmettwill try, but will he be able to find me?Willhe succeed?

ButIcan’t solely bank on someone rescuing me.Ineed to figure out a way to escape.Ihave no prior knowledge of the layout of this hell house nor doIeven know where the fuckIam.Therecould be security cameras, and meathead guards at every corner, and with my luck,Lorenzohas friends on the police force to cover up his perverted interests.

Irefuse to let my life end here, under his control.Iwillmake it out.Ihave to, there’s no other option.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

BLAIR

I’vebeen sleeping more.Whetherit's in the hopes of escaping the nightmareIface whenIwake, or because my body is too weak to do anything else,Ifind myself sleeping the majority of my days.I'mnot sure if it's much better based on the nightmares that have been plaguing my mind every timeIclose my eyes, but it’s better than whateverLorenzocoulddo to me.

Wheredo you hide when the monsters are inside of your head?

Myeyes shift behind my lids, in a state between dream and reality.I'mstill vaguely aware of what's happening beyond my tired mind.Whenthe door to my cement prison opens,Iquickly shift from the limbo to the real world.

Myeyes shoot open butIdon’t move a muscle as three men walk into the room.Myheart starts beating harder at the thought of the pain that is likely to come.Likea fluttering bird with broken fucking wings that just keeps smashing against the bars ofits cage.Whyelse would they come in here, if for no reason other than to cause harm?

Thefear that courses through my veins has my whole body stiffening as they near me.Oneof them hangs back as the other two come closer to me.Isqueeze my eyes shut, bracing for whatIthink is about to come, expecting pain or anything other than the feeling of my cuffs leaving my skin.

That'sas much grace as they offer me though.Myarms are roughly gripped asI'myanked from the floor.Theydrag me forward since my limbs haven’t been used for the last few days.Ifeel like a baby deer learning to walk.

Mylegs are weak, but now is not the time for me to focus on that.Thelight peeking through the door burns my eyes asIascend the staircase, or rather get dragged upstairs.Beingtrapped in a dark basement with only a small dim light and my thoughts as company has messed with my head.

Lettingmy eyes adjust to the brightness,Ido my best to look at my surroundings.Thelast timeIwould have been in this area of the house,Iwas unconscious.Ibounce my eyes over every inch of the residence asI'mdragged through.Icould fight right now, try to escape, but instead,I'musing this time to take in the environment of my captivity, committing it to memory and storing it for later.Knowingthe layout can aid my plan to escape this hell.

Idon’t want to fight and give them a reason to knock me out again,I’llonly risk myself the opportunity to find a way out.I’mdragging my eyes from one room to the next whileI’mled through the house, trying to find any beacon of hope, any way of a possible getaway when the time is right.Thegears in my brain start turning, formulating a plan.

Fightingback isn't working,Idon't know whyIthought it would.MaybeifIcan gain his trust, make my captor feel as if he has broken me, molded me into the perfect toy,Ican escape.Theidea of being compliant for my assaulter causes bile to arise in my throat.Iswallow it back down, attempting not to gag on the vile taste.Myclothes are already stained with my vomit fromLorenzo’slatest visit.

Ilook over at one of the men who has a hold on me and see him wrinkling his nose.Imust have become immune to the smell of it.Makingour way to what seems like the back of the house,Iam led to what must be a guest bedroom.Thedecor is simple and sparse, but that's not what immediately has every hair on my body standing to attention.

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