Merciless (ON HOLD)

39

For a week, the dimly lit cell was my world. The only other soul there was Anastasia Yankova, a girl with raven-black hair who spoke sparingly, her voice a soothing balm in that grim place.

Anastasia had been captive for three weeks, subsisting on meager meals. Sometimes, none at all. On those days, I shared my food with her. It was during one such silent meal that she finally spoke up, her voice laced with an intensity that belied her calm exterior.

"Who are you?" she asked abruptly.

Her question caught me off guard. Before I could respond, she continued, her words slow but deliberate. "This is a human trafficking ring. They shuffle girls quickly to avoid detection. You've been here a week; they’re not selling you. They're hiding you. Why? Who are you?"

I stared back, confused. "I'm nobody. Just... just me, my name is Rosalie."

"Are you, or anyone you know, important? Rich? Powerful?" Anastasia pressed.

The only name that came to mind was Damien. "Damien," I whispered.

"Damien?" She echoed, a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

"What does he do?"I hesitated, unsure. Damien's world was one of shadows and secrets. Before I could articulate my thoughts, Anastasia's expression shifted, her eyes widening.

"Mr. D? D Bugartíe, Cassios Bugartíe's successor?" she gasped.

I felt a chill run down my spine. How did she know about Cassios, that loathsome figure tied to Damien?

Before I could respond, the door crashed open. Two guards stormed in, seizing Anastasia. She struggled, her voice rising in desperation. "Is he stupid? She's linked to D Bugartíe!"

I leaped to her defense, but a guard's stern look halted me. "Let her go!" I screamed, but my pleas were in vain.

As they dragged her away, Anastasia's final cry echoed hauntingly in the cell. "I'll tell him you were here. I'LL TELL HIM!"

Her screams haunted me, even as I jolted awake from the nightmare. My head throbbed, the memory too real, too vivid. It was then that I realized it wasn't a dream at all. It was a memory.

"Rosa!" Damien's voice pulled me back to the present, his hands gently shaking me. "Count to 10 with me."

My mind was a whirlwind, my body unresponsive. Damien's voice was my anchor. "10... 9... 8..." he counted, each number a lifeline pulling me back from the edge of panic.

"8," I finally echoed, my voice sounding distant yet familiar.

Damien's touch softened, his fingers tenderly brushing my hair. "7," he whispered.

"7," I repeated, the fog in my mind slowly lifting.

I gradually reconnected with the present, each count a step away from the terror of my memories. As we reached '1', I exhaled deeply, my eyes meeting Damien's. In them, I saw a rare flicker of emotion, a vulnerability he seldom showed.

We were still in his car, surrounded by an endless expanse of trees. A wave of unease washed over me. Where were we? I longed for the safety of home.

"Damien," I murmured, finding solace in his steady grey eyes.

His presence was a balm, easing the remnants of panic. I remembered the isolation of the cell, the silence after Anastasia was taken. The darkness had been suffocating, the loneliness a relentless tormentor.

"How did I escape that cell? Why can't I remember anything, Damien? What's wrong with me?" My voice trembled with a mix of fear and frustration.

Damien's typically unreadable expression shifted to one of surprise, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes.

"Rosa..." he began, his voice laced with an emotion I couldn't place.

The fragments of my past were like pieces of a puzzle I couldn't complete. Damien was the key, but even he seemed unsettled by my questions. I needed answers, but more than that, I needed to understand my connection to this man and the shadows that seemed to follow him.

As the car continued through the winding forest path, I realized that my journey to uncovering the truth was just beginning.