Page 18 of Scarred in Silence (The Twisted Trilogy #2)

Astra

The darkness threatens to overpower the room, casting shadows on the walls. It looks better than the cell I was in before, but not by much. The room smells of rot and perfume. Almost as if someone is trying to cover up the smell of decay.

I sit on a stained twin bed that rests on the floor. There is a vanity and a stool in the corner, along with a toilet in the opposite corner. I scan the room looking for my sanity, but I can’t find it anywhere.

After being alone with my thoughts for so long, all that I am is insane.

My body screams with agony. I know Miles was rough with me. I started to space out after a while. I decided to imagine I was elsewhere. Like the ocean.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I recall the horrifying events. I thought he lived out of state. I made sure we never crossed paths after the Halloween party. I hid for weeks after the video got put on blast.

That’s how I met Lucien, actually.

I was hanging out with a guy named Max. He was just a filler, really. He gave me drugs and kept me feeling free. Well… as free as I could be.

Then Lucien showed up. He drew me in. I’m not sure how, but it felt as if something was possessing me, telling me to get closer. That he was safe.

Then he saved me. He took a bullet for me.

A tear rolls down my cheek as I think about how much I have betrayed him. I hope he understands. I hope he finds me.

The door creaks open, and my body tenses. I hate the person staring back at me. Nicolette.

“Leave me alone,” I shout.

She pinches her eyebrows together and walks closer.

“Why do you fight it?”

My eyes squint. She can’t be serious. Can she?

“I’m sorry. I don’t like to be raped,” I state dryly.

She chuckles.

“I have a surprise for you today.” She smiles.

“No.”

“You don’t have a choice. You can go willingly, or maybe we should bring Miles back, hmm?”

My stomach tightens at the thought. I can’t. I’m loyal.

“Okay…”

“Perfect. I’ll be in to get you soon.” She turns and walks out of the room, slamming the door closed behind her. The twisting of a lock feels like a nail in the coffin. I’m stuck.

God, I fucking hate her. I’ll make sure I kill her before I escape.

* * *

It’s been hours, and I sit here wondering where the fuck Lucien is. If I really belonged to him, he would know I’m not safe. So much for fucking loyalty. My old t-shirt hangs low enough to cover me.

The evidence of Miles’ crimes lingers between my legs. My stomach knots, my throat tightening.

What if Lucien doesn’t want me anymore?

Then I remember I can always go back to using.

The lock on the door rustles to life, and the click of the door feels like a knife in my back. Trust me, I would know.

Nicolette comes in with two men. They have on black long-sleeved shirts and black pants with boots. Both men are wearing ski masks, so who knows who the fuck is in on this?

“Let’s get ready, shall we?” Her words echo through the air, freezing over the room.

I nod. Get ready for what?

“Help her to the room.”

I go to stand, but before I get off the nasty mattress, two sets of arms grab mine, escorting me out of the room.

They lead me down a long corridor, ending at an elevator. We get inside, and they keep me turned away from the panel so that I cannot see which floor we are going to. I’m surprised this place even has an elevator.

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.

My heart 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.

Snot and tears cover my face. My wrists and ankles ache from the leather pulling. I want to die. I don’t even recognize myself. The person staring back at me in the mirror looks like a stranger.

She hums “Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley as she does what everyone has always sought to do… Change me…

My face looks broken. There are no emotions left to be seen. My tears have run dry, and my hope has lost its fire.

She carefully places the bottle on the tray as she clasps her hands together.

“You’re going to look so perfect for him.”

My eyebrows pinch together, my head throbs.

Behind the tape, my muffled voice screams, “For who?”

She walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The tingle on my scalp reminds me I’m alive. I love pain. Pain means I’m alive. Right now, do I want to be? No, but Lucien will save me. He always does.

The smell of the chemicals makes me feel dizzy. I try to remain calm, taking in slow, deep breaths. Nothing is as it seems.

I stare into the mirror, blurring my vision.

Nothing matters.

I’ll sit here and wait for her to come back. Then I’ll do what I should have done when Lucien captured me. Run.