C E N T R A L C E E || 18+

Chapter Eight

"Fuck this," I mumbled as I tried to get up from this stupid bed.

It had been five days since my kidnapping. My body was still covered in his name and other scars Marcelo had caused. I slowly started to give up hope that someone would eventually find me. I needed to get out of here by myself.

The room was dark and stuffy, and whenever Marcelo would enter, it would smell like cigarettes and heavy perfume. There was a small window that I craved to open, but only my kidnapper could do so.

I had a big walk-in closet that was filled with a hell load of slutty dresses that I couldn't even imagine to wear. But apparently he somehow expected me to. What the hell was he hoping?

An unexpected thought popped in my head. Wearing these dresses meant to step outside. At least outside this room.

Fuck, these dresses could be my escape. The voices in my head that were telling me that I was disgusting and weak were now telling me to make a smart plan. It was like there were two people constantly arguing in my head.

"Marcelo," I shouted. It was the first time I had said his name out loud. It felt disgusting in my mouth, more disgusting than it felt on my body.

He entered the room in the same black suit. "Yes, amore?"

"Are these dresses for me?" I asked as I walked towards him.

"One day," he said as he stroked my jaw with his fingers. "One day you'll wear these dresses to show the world who you belong to."

I tried not to laugh about the fact that he was actually serious. He was probably thinking with his dick or whatever else men thought with. But seeing him down so bad also made me feel powerful. A wave of adrenaline rushed through my body as realised that I could make him do anything for me.

"I want to show them now," I whispered as I placed my hand on his chest.

He moved a strand of my hair behind my ear, leaning down to my face. "Let's get you ready then, amore," he said, moving his hand over the scars on my abs. His name that was carved into my body forever. It made me feel like screaming, crying and vomiting, but I couldn't do anything about it.

Holding my hand, he led me towards the closet. As he moved his hands through the dresses, he kept looking at me, happy that I had finally stopped resisting him.

"This one would look perfect," he said as he threw a white mini dress on the puffer below us.

"Yeah," I lied, lifting up the ugly dress and holding it against my body. " It's so beautiful, I can't wait to wear it."

The little green disgust lady in my head was fully in control now.

"There's a ball tonight. You're gonna come with me," he said, placing a kiss on my forehead and leaving.

So my plan was working. I wouldn't have thought that it would had been so easy, but apparently it was. He was a total moron, but he was still dangerous. The scars on my body were still there, and whenever he would enter the room, a thousand voices would start talking in my head, my hands would get sweaty and waves of anxiety would rush through all of my body.

A few moments later, three girls and a guy came in to get me ready. The girls barely spoke English, but the guy, who was a makeup artist, seemed like he was from England.

He was very sweet, almost too sweet to be working here for Marcelo.

"So, what's your name?" I asked him as he did my makeup.

"It's James, but you can call me Jamie."

We had a little chitchat before he finished my makeup. It actually felt good to have a normal conversation after being locked up for five days.