Page 10 of Scarred in Silence
I look over my shoulder to see Lucien two feet behind me. I brace myself for the tackle.
He pummels into me, sending me skidding against the concrete. My body aches as if I had the flu. He holds me down, pinned in place as I struggle to free myself.
He pushes my face into the rocky asphalt, forcing my lips to part.
“What did you take?” His tone is threatening as he leans his face close to my ear.
“B-blue pill,” I choke out.
I feel a pinch on my upper arm, and my vision tunnels seconds later. It feels like I have been paralyzed.
“W-what d-did you… do…” My speech is slurred.
“Why do you care? Fucking whore.”
He removes his weight from me, yet I still feel like I am waterlogged.
He throws me over his shoulder, my limp body sagging against his tight muscles. I fucking hate him. He doesn’t even care about me. He wants to be seen as a hero again. He will never be my fucking hero.
He lies me on the ground next to his car as my vision starts fading out. He kneels before me, pushing a stray hair from my tear-streaked face. I don’t flinch, I can’t move.
“You’ll always be loyal to me. You’ll always be my Siren. My curse.”
The sound of clanking metal is the last thing I hear before everything turns black.
I hope when I wake up, I’m still floating away at sea. I want to be free.
* * *
The pain in my head pulses as if it has its own heart rhythm. The open wound on my leg feels raw. I feel like fucking death.
I force my heavy eyes open, and I am greeted by four concrete walls. No doors. No escape.
There is a single light bulb set in the center of the cell, and what appears to be the outline of a rectangle on the ceiling next to the light bulb. Where the fuck am I?
A toilet is located on the opposite side of the room, along with a sink. I lie on a bed in the corner, dressed in black sheets.
I lick my cracked lips, and my mouth dries instantly. I’m dehydrated. I go to sit up, and the sound of clanking metal makes me jump. It’s like hearing nails on a chalkboard.
I look down to find myself dressed in a clean t-shirt. My hair has a lingering honey scent. Did he bathe me?
I pull the sheet off me. I don’t have any bottoms on, probably because my ankles have cuffs around them, each with a long chain connected to it. What the Hell?
I pull my feet off the bed, standing on shaky legs as I inspect the chains. They attach to a loop bolted into the cement floor at the foot of the bed. I lay the chain on the ground softly and walk to the sink. No mirror. Just a sink.
The metal scrapes across the floor, and my skin crawls at the sound. I turn on the water and splash the cold water on my face, hoping to wake up from whatever sick fucking game he is playing.
I take slow, painful steps back to the bed, tucking myself in. I don’t know what day it is. What time it is. All I do know is that I wish I weren’t lying in a dungeon right now.
Normally, this kind of situation would make me panic, but I know Lucien. I know he has one purpose for bringing me back. He wants to get me clean so he can send me back to my parents, or keep me for himself. They probably paid him to kidnap me.
I bet they have some elaborate statement planned to say I have been taking my sister’s death hard. In reality, it’s not her death that made me do drugs again. It’s the fact that I can’t live in my own head anymore.
Nobody ever hears me. Nobody ever sees me.
I close my eyes and hope sleep doesn’t evade me. The drugs always make me feel sick if I don’t have more. Sleep is the only thing that can help me right now.
I know Lucien won’t.
