Taken Captive

Chapter 60

I made a book instagram. @rtlovesbooks go follow it. or don't, whatever your heart desires.

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"I'm sorry mama, it was a mistake!" I cried, hoping this was all a bad dream, that the past four months didn't happen and this was all a sick joke.

"Never refer to me as your mother again! I will not let some whore of a daughter stay in my house any longer!" She growled, tightening her hold on my wrist and pulling me even harder when I tried planting my heels on the wooden floor to slow her down, making me cry out in pain as my father silently watched from the kitchen.

"Papa, please! I'm begging you-" I was cut off by mama throwing me onto the floor beside the door and throwing my bag filled with clothes at my head.

"You and your bastard of a child are forbidden from entering this home again, don't bother calling or ever coming back."

"Mama! Why would you say that? This is your grandchild!" I yelled, standing up with more tears streaming down my face, looking to my father for some help, maybe even some comfort and was disappointed to find him staring into my eyes with a cold expression.

"Papa, please. I can't abort my unborn child-" I gasped as my head snapped to the side and a stinging sensation spread across my cheek. My hand came up to cool it down and I looked back at my mother, who had no regret on her face, only hatred. This can't be happening.

I shot up from the bed, my hands immediately rubbing at my head from the pounding making my headache worse than it was before. Finally, I was waking up when the sun was coming up, back on schedule.

I look around me at the three beds surrounding mine. Poptart is on my left side, Muffin is on my right while Pookie is at the foot of the bed, his mouth open with his hand hanging off of the bed, sleeping like a complete baby unlike the night we got here. I don't even know how much time has passed since they brought me here nor did I want to know.

Guns were tucked in each of their waistbands. They were ready for anything now.

Slowly and carefully, I move my legs to hang off of the side of the bed, letting out a sigh of exhaustion at the minimal movement that made my body feel like I just ran a marathon. I moved the covers off and slid off of the bed, holding onto Muffin's bed to steady myself then reaching out to grab the end of Pookie's before finally getting to the bathroom that was right beside him, just a couple of feet away.

It was hard to walk. I rarely ever walked with master, he usually carried me in case I tried to run. I wouldn't have but he didn't trust me. He didn't trust me at all but expected me to trust him.

I let go of the mattress and finally start walking on my own, doing the same thing I did when the nurses asked me to change into the hospital gown a couple of days ago to help me get there with no trouble. I took in a deep breath and let my body loosen up, the tight, sore feeling inside my limbs calmed but immediately set on fire again when I took a few steps. I quickly closed the door behind me and sat on the toilet, wincing in pain as tears built in my eyes.

I can't do the simplest things anymore. Walking, a struggle. Eating, nope. I could only have soft foods like soup, apple sauce, pudding, and milkshakes that Pookie brought me. But I couldn't complain. They were letting me eat something and I loved it. I took down the first milkshake they brought me in under two minutes.

It confused me at first. Master told me if I ate or drank anything other than the alcohol in my bottle, my withdrawals would get even worse. They could get so bad that I'd die. But the doctor said it was okay and I had to believe her, she was a doctor after all.