Page 88 of Twisted Addiction

Giovanni’s eyes darkened, guilt flickering there, but he didn’t defend himself.

So I did the only thing I could—lash out. My teeth sank into his hand, hard, until I tasted the salt of his skin and the copper of blood.

He flinched, hissing, pulling away, but didn’t retaliate.

“Ma’am,” he said, softer, almost broken. “Please... don’t make this harder.”

He looked torn apart, but his hand still reached for me—steady, deliberate, determined.

“Let me go!” I cried, twisting hard, my body jerking in panic. His fingers clamped around my wrist like steel.

“You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded, my voice shaking violently. “If you had an ounce of conscience left, Giovanni, you’d let me go! You know this isn’t right—you know what he’s become!”

He shut his eyes, jaw tightening as if my words were blades, but his grip didn’t loosen.

He pulled me toward the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.

The hinges groaned as he forced it open, the smell of dust and cold air bleeding out like a warning.

Inside, the darkness was almost tangible—thick, suffocating, like it wanted to swallow me whole.

“Giovanni—wait!”

He said nothing, just guided me over the threshold.

The door slammed behind me with a brutal thud, the echo shattering the silence.

A second later came the metallic click of the lock—final, merciless, like a coffin sealing shut.

“Giovanni!” I screamed, slamming my palms against the door until they burned. “Please—don’t leave me here!” My voice cracked, echoing back at me from the cold walls.

“You know I’m planning to escape!” I gasped, pounding harder, my nails scraping against the wood.

“I told him you gave me misoprostol—that I aborted the baby! You know it’s not true! If he finds out, he’ll make sure you and I never see daylight again!”

No response. Just the echo of my own voice, ragged and breaking.

I pressed my forehead to the door, tears streaking my cheeks. “You’re not like him, Giovanni. I know you’re not. You’ve seen what he’s capable of—what he becomes when he’s angry. You can’t let him do this to me!”

My voice dropped to a whisper, shaking. “Please. I’m scared. It’s too dark—I can’t stay here alone!” My words dissolved into sobs. “Giovanni, please... Don’t leave me here. I can’t... I can’t breathe in the dark...”

A pause.

Then, muffled through the wood: “I’m sorry, Penelope.”

His voice trembled—barely holding itself together. “I can’t help.”

“No—no, you can,” I begged, my palms slamming against the door until my skin burned. “You can help me. You always have. Please, Giovanni, don’t leave me here!”

His silence felt like betrayal—heavy and deliberate.

“Don’t you dare walk away!” I screamed, my voice breaking, raw from panic. “Giovanni—a pregnant woman in the dark, alone? You know how dangerous that is! You know what this could do to me!”

Silence.

Then the slow, heavy drag of his footsteps retreating down the corridor—hesitant at first, then faster, desperate to escape the sound of me falling apart.

“Giovanni!” I slammed both palms against the door, my skin stinging. “Please! Don’t leave me here—please!”