Page 15 of Taking Me

As the minutes ticked by, I started to feel more restless. The room seemed to close in around me, and the anticipation of what was to come gnawed at my nerves. Suddenly, I heard a faint noise outside the door. My heart raced as the latch clicked, and the door slowly creaked open. A woman stepped into the room, her demeanor calm and professional.

“Good evening,” she said softly, carrying a tray with various items. “I’m here to prepare you for dinner.” She set the traydown and began to lay out a beautiful dress, along with an array of makeup and hair tools. She moved with practiced ease, helping me into the dress, styling my hair, and applying makeup with a deft hand. As she was putting makeup on me she noticed my busted lip, she gave me a sad look and I turned my eyes away from hers, embarrassed.

As she worked, she spoke in soothing tones, explaining the evening’s plans. “You’ll be dining upstairs with your master,” she said, her voice a gentle murmur.

When she finished, she stepped back to admire her work, giving a satisfied nod. “I am not supposed to do this but I want you to admire your own beauty even if it is for a brief second.” She reaches into her fanny pack and pulls out a miniature mirror. “Thank…thank you” I replied to her generosity.

She gave me a sideways smile showing me that she felt pity for me before taking my hand and leading me to the door. The anticipation of what awaited me upstairs was almost overwhelming causing my bottom lip to tremble. But I am starving and know in order to stay alive and gain my health back I need to eat and hydrate.

The guard looked at me, and he even took a double take, quickly aiming his eyes down to the floor, probably in hopes that I didn’t see him. I did see him; I could use that later if I needed to as leverage. As the guard motioned for me to move forward, I felt a mixture of trepidation and anticipation welling within me.

I took slow and cautious steps so that I did not rush myself. When I stepped out of the room another guard was waiting for me. If this were any other scenario I would be down for the two against one throw down, but I am not. I am just a woman who is being held against her will by a man she promised death to.

The walls and lights were not nearly as bright as they were when I first stepped out of that appalling room that I was in. I just want to get this over with, I need rest. The guards are men oflittle words, remaining silent as they walk me down the wall and to a staircase that was dimly lit. I was positioned in between the both of them and was thinking of every way that I could kill them both without alarming anyone else.

Neither of them has any guns on them, at least not anywhere that I can see. Or any weapon at that. But I am already at a disadvantage, if only I had my bayonet on me I’d paint the walls red. The guards flanked me on either side, their imposing figures casting long shadows on the dimly lit hallway.

Their faces were stern and emotionless, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside me. Each step we took echoed ominously, the sound bouncing off the cold, white walls. The stairs loomed ahead, a winding path that seemed to stretch into the unknown.

If I could I would start by using all of my weight and bombarding one of them against the walls making them take a tumble down the stairs and more than likely breaking their necks, the other I would have to do some hand-to-hand combat but my body is too weak to even walk completely up these stairs.

We are not even halfway up and my legs are trembling like they are about to giveaway underneath me. “Fuckin’ hell” I accidentally let out. “No talking, it is your master’s orders and I don’t think he will take kindly to his pet talking with such a dirty vocabulary” What the actual fuck? I can’t even talk in this hell hole? Or cuss? Where the hell am I? A brutal church camp where the father takes advantage of the weak.

“Oh forgive me Father for I have sinned, I killed many men because you beat me and my mother senseless when I was a child and molested me when you were left home alone with me.” I thought to myself. Fuck him, he is a pathetic excuse for the human race.

Sixteen

Dinner Time

We finally reach the top of the stairs. My legs tremble, and my body threatens to collapse. Each breath is rigid, my chest heaving as I gasp for air. I press my hands against the rough, cold wall beside me, resting my forehead on my arm to steady myself and catch my breath. Sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes, but I don’t have the energy to wipe it away.

The guard’s impatient voice cuts through the haze of my exhaustion,

“Move along.” His tone feels sharp, devoid of any sympathy. Frustration boils over, and I snap,

“I’m trying as hard as I can, man. Just give me a break.” My voice rasps out.

His smug comment only fuels my determination to push forward despite the fatigue. I see the sneer on his face and how he is looking down on me, which ignites a fire within. I straighten up, my muscles screaming at me, and take a shaky step forward. The pain in my legs feels excruciating, but I refuse to let it stop me. I will keep going, no matter what it takes.

“Now, is that any way to treat one of my guests, you guys?” Marklov’s voice cuts through the air, startling me into standing at attention.

My heart races as I snap upright. The sudden movement blurs my vision. I nearly pass out from moving so fast; if I had to guess, my iron levels must be dangerously low. My legs feel like jelly, and a wave of dizziness washes over me, but I force myself to stay upright, not wanting to show any weakness in front of Marklov or his guards. The tension in the room thickens, and I can feel every heartbeat pounding in my chest, echoing in my ears.

Marklov stepped into view, commanding and intimidating. He scanned me with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, his eyes lingering on my haggard appearance.

“You look… stunning and like you could use a decent meal,” he said, smirking as he took in my exhausted state.

His words dripped with a mocking tone, making me feel both self-conscious and defiant.

“Vamos, let’s not keep you waiting, Little Sinister.” He gestured for me to follow, moving smoothly and deliberately, exuding an air of control that left no room for argument.

As we make our way to the dining area, my eyes trace every part of each room we pass. A large display of windows comes into view, revealing a beautiful, dark, and gloomy scene outside. From what I can see, we’re in a wooded area, and the tree line looks fuckin’ massive. I bet it means he’s smart enough to keep me away from other houses, which are probably miles away. The isolation is palpable, and each step makes me feel that escaping isn’t just a matter of running—it’s about surviving.

Seeing his life, where he lives, sends so many thoughts to my head, but the main ones hovering are how he got all of this. And Who is he really? After I left home and Mom died, he ended up in prison. That was the last I heard about him, thanks to hisface being spread all over the news like wildfire. Before that, he always made sure my mom was selling her body to make money so we could“make ends meet.”He controlled every aspect of our lives, ensuring we depended on him. I remember the late nights when she would come home exhausted, barely able to stand, while he counted the money she made. It was a miserable existence, and yet, here he is, somehow having amassed all of this. Something’s not adding up. How could he go from prison to this level of wealth and power? It’s like a missing puzzle piece, a dark secret lurking beneath my nose.

The dining room is lavish, with a long table set and an array of dishes that look straight out of a gourmet restaurant. Marklov pulls me out a chair and gestures for me to sit, and despite my exhaustion, I can’t help but feel a sense of defiance bubbling up inside me.

As I take a seat, Marklov walks along the table and sits across from me, his eyes never leaving mine.

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