Taken

Chapter 28

A/N I guess it's a little past the updating date, isn't it?

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Teheheh... oops.

ENJOY!

 Chapter 28

            My head hurt, my leg throbbed relentlessly and the feeling of my own blood caked across my skin made me cringe. Stringy, oily dark brown pieces of hair fell before my eyes, but I was so numb, caring about my looks was out of reach. Let Luke curl his lip in disgust at me, let my cut face, swollen eyes and gross appearance revolt him.

            He was the one who placed me in this situation.

            My wrists burned slightly from the silver cuffs placed around them. Apparently, according to Luke, the silver would both wound and hold me back. With the silver touching my skin, I was unable to shift even though I had been plenty angry in the past two days. Breathing heavily through my nose, I licked my swollen lips with an almost dry tongue, wincing at the blood I tasted and the stinging it caused. It was safe to say at the moment that not a single part of me was left un-bruised.  

            I worried I was starting to show the early signs of a concussion and my leg was most defiantly broken, along with a harshly fractured shoulder.

            Staring down at the untouched food placed before me, I hissed lightly as I slowly slid farther away from it. I refused to even come near any more substance he had placed before me. After experiencing the effects of the drugs he inserted into the food, the thought of even trying to eat it made me want to be sick, despite the lack of food in my stomach.

            Add starvation to the long list of injuries and discomforts.

            My skin was in a forever state of dampness as the thick moisture in the air seemed to cling to every stable source it could. It created an overall smell of must. “My cell” as Luke liked to describe it, was small and square, barely big enough for me to completely stretch out my body fully. To a person who had always suffered from claustrophobia, this lack of space was almost the worst kind of torture.

            Small space, less air; less air, death.

            I closed my one eye tightly, considering my other was already swollen completely shut, and tried to block away my own dooming thoughts. Making my heart race in fear and breathing spike in worry wouldn’t exactly be helpful in my predicament. Besides, the more air I sucked in, the less there would be in my small cell.

            Consider my fear re-induced.

            “It’s okay,” a faint whispered called out, seeming to glide along the concrete walls before slithering into my hearing range. “Just remember to breathe, you’ll be okay.” This one hum was lighter than the first, but still ever so calming.          

            Tylers’ mate sat leaned up against the other side of the concrete wall to my back. I could almost sense her leaning there, head slouched over in exhaustion as the drugs from her own food soon started to take effect. She had been like me in the beginning, or so she had said. Refusing to eat so as to ignore the heavy sleeping pills; however, soon after, she had been forced to change her mind. She couldn’t very well let herself wither away, not when she had a mate fighting for her outside the cells.

            Eating was essential, sleeping drugs or not.

            I knew Damien was searching for me, so in some way, I was in the same boat; I just hoped I wouldn’t be trapped near as long as her. However, the fear was starting to curl even tighter in my stomach. It had been… two or three days, I almost couldn’t remember at all, and no progress had been made. I felt the urge to cry my sorrows out at the thought, but I quickly choked them back. Crying would be giving into Luke and his games, the same as begging. I was going to be strong throughout it all, for myself and Erica, Tylers mate.