Page 50 of Firethorne

Chapter Twenty-One

Maya

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

My head pounded and swirled as I came around, noises were muffled, voices I didn’t recognise echoed in my ears. Everything felt foreign.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

My body didn’t feel like my own. It was as if I was stuck inside someone else’s body. A body that didn’t work.

I felt nauseous and achy.

I tried to swallow, but it was like swallowing sandpaper.

Everything felt wrong.

I prised my eyes open, and the room I was in seemed hazy and out of focus, like I was viewing it underwater, submerged in a sea and I couldn’t breathe.

I was stuck in an eternal nightmare of pain.

Dots and stars danced in front of my eyes, and then slowly, so, so slowly, I began to gain focus.

I didn’t recognise the face looming over me, and on instinct, I tried to move, but I couldn’t. I was shackled, restrained on whatever surface I was lying on.

I went to speak, to cry for help, but all that came out were grunts, noises that didn’t sound like they were being made by me. I was gagged, and my eyes bulged when I realised, pleading with the man who was looking down at me, begging him to help me.

“She’s awake,” I heard a familiar voice announce, and Firethorne appeared behind the strange man. “Just in time for the best part.”

His eyes were glowing with a sadistic need, telling me the best part wouldn’t be the best for me.

I thrashed on the bed or whatever it was I was tied to. Glancing to the side, I could see my wrists were secured by cuffs, there was a leather strap over my chest, but that wasn’t the worst part. My legs were strapped to stirrups that were open wide, and all I had on was the old T-shirt I’d gone to bed in. Nothing else. I felt degraded, defiled, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

Mentally, I checked my body. I had no pain other than my pounding head and sore throat. I hadn’t been raped. But was that about to happen? Was that why they had me strapped here?

The room was dark, but I knew I was still at Firethorne Manor. I recognised this room. I’d cleaned it only days ago, and now, it’d be etched into my mind, my very soul, for the rest of my life. From the open fire that crackled at the end of the bed I was on, to the landscape painting of the estate that hung above it, the one with the shadow ofhimhiding amongst the reeds by the lake. The dark window to the side of me showed it was still nighttime, reflecting the horrors back to me that were aboutto ensue in this room. Taunting me. Reminding me that I was helpless.

“I’m going to get this on video,” Firethorne announced, taking his phone from his pocket and pointing it in my direction. “I need to confirm this so my client doesn’t pull out.”

He was going to video whatever sick thing he was about to do to me.

I wanted to throw up.

I wanted to run as far away from this place as I could.

But another jolt on my restraints told me that was useless.

I was trapped.

“Sir, are you sure about this?” the stranger standing next to him asked, and a flutter of hope took flight in my belly.