Page 6 of Twisted Addiction
Guards lingered in the shadows, their silhouettes sharp against the glow of the lamps. Their eyes followed me, cold and silent, but none moved.
I squared my shoulders, my boots striking against the stone, each step echoing like a verdict.
My heart hammered faster with every pace upward, the chill air stinging my lungs. By the time I reached the top landing, my palms were damp against the smooth curve of the balustrade.
I pushed the heavy double doors open. They groaned on their hinges, and the house swallowed me whole.
The familiar scent hit instantly—leather, polish, faint cigar smoke. But the air felt colder now, emptier, as though the walls themselves had been holding their breath in Dmitri’s absence.
I made my way to our bedroom, the familiar hallway stretching like a tunnel of forgotten promises.
The door creaked open on rusty hinges, revealing the wide, untouched bed—the same one I’d slept in alone for four agonizing months.
A sharp, tearing ache clawed at my chest, and my hands drifted to my stomach on instinct—cradling the fragile hope that might still be there, trembling like a candle about to go out.
The coppery tang of blood on my thighs was a fresh humiliation, a sticky reminder of the horror I’d endured.
In the bathroom, I twisted the tap to scalding hot, the water roaring into the sink like a furious waterfall.
I snatched a washcloth from the shelf and began scrubbing the dried streaks from my skin with a ferocity that bordered on desperation.
Red swirled down the drain, diluted but still accusing, like evidence of a crime I hadn’t committed.
Each swipe of the cloth felt like I was erasing a sin, or a nightmare, or both—yet the stain on my soul remained untouched.
Please, my mind whispered amid the steam and suds, frantic and broken.Please let my child still be inside me—still holding on, still fighting to exist within this hollow, trembling body.Please don’t let the river of blood mean I’ve already lost everything.
My chest rose and fell with jagged breaths as I pressed a trembling hand to my lower belly, feeling for any sign of life.Please stay alive, my little one.
When at last the stains were gone, my skin burned pink and raw, throbbing under the assault.
I wrapped myself in a thick towel, the fabric a meager shield against the chill that had settled in my bones.
Stepping out of the bathroom, damp hair clinging to my temples, I crossed to my side of the wardrobe.
My fingers brushed past silks and dresses I no longer felt worthy of until they found a fresh pair of dark jeans and a soft cream sweater—plain, practical, but enough to make me feel clean. Human again.
My fingers fumbled with the buttons and zipper, hands still shaking from the adrenaline and fear, but finally, I managed to tug them on, tucking the sweater into the waistband for a semblance of normalcy.
I stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it face-first, exhaustion dragging me down like an undertow in a stormy sea.
How many hours had passed since Antonio had snatched me?
A day? Two?
My head throbbed where he’d slammed me with the butt of his gun, the memory flickering like a blade in the dark.
I bit hard into my palm to stifle a sob, the metallic taste of my own blood mingling with the lingering copper in the air.
I’ll make him pay, I vowed silently, my teeth sinking deeper into my flesh.He’ll pay for what he did.
My mind spun in chaotic circles.
And where the hell is Dmitri?
Anger rose like bile in my throat. Did he save me from Antonio just to dump me back here, like discarded baggage?
The ceiling blurred as hot tears stung my eyes.
