Page 46 of Scarred in Silence
The ding of a bell makes my stomach heavy. I feel an overwhelming sense of impending doom. We step out of the elevator, and I am surprised to see that this floor looks normal… almost clinical.
We stop at a room, and they haul me inside. My head spins when I see what is laid out before me. A wooden chair sits in front of a tall mirror. The chair has cuffs on the armrests and the legs.
Myheart pounds beneath my rib cage, threatening to explode. My ears ring, my flesh burns. I have to get out.
The men hold my arm firmly as Nicolette stands in the middle of the sterile room. My blood is boiling in my constricted veins. She slaps her hand down on the wooden chair.
“Care to sit?”
Her voice makes me want to skin myself alive.
I don’t go willingly; the men shove me forward until I am pinned down in the chair. I try to kick, scream— but it’s no use. I am weak. They secure my wrists in the leather straps, then my ankles.
My clammy skin makes the leather pull at my flesh.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I spit in her face. Fuck her.
She wipes her face clean, as a look of disgust washes over her.
“You would look a lot prettier if you had the personality to match.”
She stands behind me, and I see her in the mirror in front of me. Her smile shines bright as if she has won the lottery.
“Before we begin, there is one last thing we need to do.”
She pulls out a roll of tape and rips a piece off. I twist and turn my head, but she forces it still, securing the tape over my mouth.
Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. I tell myself I won’t cry, but the silence feels worse this time.
“Perfect,” she says.
I scream at her beneath the tape. Fucking bitch.
She pulls out a pair of scissors, flipping them around in her hand.
“You know. I always thought you would look better with shorter hair.”
She grabs my hair, trussing it behind me. I pull my head forward, but she snaps it right back.
“If you sit still, I will just cut a little. If you don’t stop, I’ll shave it,” her tone is dangerous.
I sit still in my chair, allowing the first tear to roll down my cheek.
She cuts my hair just above my shoulders. I watch the platinum strands fall to the floor beneath me.
Why is she doing this? What did I do to her? I didn’t kill Lacey. Evelyn did. Why am I being punished?
Once she is pleased, she steps over to a small table in the corner, bringing back a bottle of dark liquid.
“Lucien hates brunettes, you know.” She gives me a fake sympathetic smile.
“But Miles doesn’t.”
My stomach twists in knots. No. Fucking no.
She puts the liquid in my hair, coating it. She takes her time, staring at me through the mirror.
