Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
I grew up around money.
This wasn’t normal money.
It was beyond that, way beyond.
This was the stuff you see on TV and have a hard time believing is true. Then again, my entire situation felt that way, part dream that I was away from my brother, part nightmare that I was sold, not rescued.
At least his hands weren’t on me.
At least I was safe from him.
Even if that meant I was getting chained to something else, anything would be better, right?
Unless they were feeding me to fatten me up before the virgin sacrifice. I knew I was getting hysterical when that thought actually made me laugh.
Joke’s on them. I wasn’t a virgin at least not technically, even though medically I was. To be a virgin meant you were pure, untouched, right?
I was dirty. Used.
If they were looking to find anything clean or pure in me, they would need to look somewhere else.
I felt that loss every time I looked in the mirror and saw the shadows beneath my eyes and the pain in the way I smiled.
He wasn’t looking at me anymore.
Six thirty-two.
I wondered if he had a number too or if that was his way of putting me in my place. Regardless, he was going to have to try harder to scare me when feeding me like this.
I’d been starving for days, so even though I was terrified and felt my heart leap in my throat every time he spoke in that slightly accented voice, I couldn’t find it within myself to run or fight, I just wanted food.
So I very carefully walked over to the breakfast bar, aware that my feet were dirty, that the smell of sweat and blood was me and not the cheese, and that the fallen angel was counting my footsteps out loud like a crazy person — I picked up a plate and did exactly as asked.
Two handfuls of veggies.
Fruits.
Another handful of protein.
Some nuts for fat.
And I reached for the shot glasses.
No wine for this girl.
Because if they were going to kill me, I’d like for it to be fast, and I’d think that vodka would help soothe the way down, and honestly if they weren’t going to let me shower then the best I could do is let alcohol clean my mouth, what I’d always been told by my brother was the dirtiest part about me.
The only part he never touched.
My lips.
So, in a way, it was the only part that was both pure and sinful at the same time.
I pulled out a chair, ready to sit, when his hand came flying through the air jerking the chair from my grip.
Cold blue eyes rested on me in a fury that was so palpable I stepped back and immediately started searching for exits.
“Those aren’t windows.” His choice of words. “And leaving only makes you thinner. Food will be withheld along with clothes and a shower, and believe me, you need all of the above along with a haircut and enough makeup to cover the bruises left on your face.”
I shuddered as shame washed over me, it wasn’t my fault, I did nothing wrong except for being born into the wrong family at the wrong time.
Wartime.
And for that I would always hate my father for having a girl, me.
And hate my brother for trying to take what wasn’t his to take.
And I’d dream of the monsters that freed me.
And pray to see them again, even in this hell.
I reached for the chair again.
He sighed like he was irritated with me but used no words.
I almost expected him to slap me, but he kept his grip firm on the chair and then in a low voice said. “This chair cost more than your life. I suggest you stand.”
Stand on bloody feet.
Stand while he watches me eat.
Stand and feel humiliation that I was this gross ratty abused thing while he told me he valued a chair over my existence.
I didn’t cry.
I was good at that now.
Of telling myself it wasn’t worth the dehydration.
Of believing that it wouldn’t do anything except for get me more attention I didn’t want.
I nodded my head once, not trusting my voice not to shake, and set my plate on the table and ate in silence while he watched.
I washed down the broccoli and cheese with a shot of vodka, reached for bread and dipped it in the vegetable soup and let out a moan before realizing I still had an audience.
He didn’t as much as flinch.
So, I kept eating.
I ate the rest of my cheese and soup.
I grabbed the nuts and took another shot of vodka relishing the burn as it cleansed my mouth.
My plate was nearly empty.
I was already full and wasn’t sure how my body would react to finally getting nourishment, so I took a step back and then grabbed my plate, walked around the counter and started washing it.