His Camelia [Completed]

Chapter 41- The Cell

Camelia raise her eyelids but couldn't manage it.

Desperately trying to wake up from her deep slumber of confusion, her thoughts hazy, thinking she was waking from a intense nightmare, she moans in discomfort blinking several times. It took her longer than it should have to realize where she was. 

Darkness surrounded her. A place that smelled of rats, mildew and waste. It was the smell that woke her.

Camelia's head ached as if she were hit with a baseball bat, and the throbbing in her neck stung.  Her whole body tender as though she received a good beating. A bout of nausea climbs up her throat as she tries to purse her lips together and stomp on her gag reflex. 

However, something was placed around her mouth making her want to throw up even more.  When she moved to uncover her mouth she soon found her hands were bound as well as her legs with a rope so thick she felt it imprinting into her skin. Tears burned her eyelids as her fear and frustration mounted.

She fought to relax, feeling confined and chained still not understanding how she got there or where she was.  Trying to calm her racing heart to remember, she focused and gave up trying to move. 

She'd been in a airplane–with Nathan Diam, bidding her a fair well with his cold stare before a syringe struck her neck. 

She could tell she wasn't in a airplane anymore. She was on land, laying on a freezing stone floor, someplace void of light and sound. 

Curling into a ball she fought the shivers violently wracking her body. Sweat coated her skin, shuddering from the dampness, the extreme cold and some foreign narcotic.

What had they given her?

Camelia closed her eyes and in the next instant an image of Gloriana floods her mind. She was there. Her own flesh and blood in league with one of the most dangerous men on this earth.

Damn her, she thought.

As some point Camelia slipped into unconsciousness. She awoke again some time later but succumbed once again and passed out. Door hinges creaked, waking her.

Disoriented, she glanced around blindly, sensing the haze holding her down slowly lifting.  She tried to sit up with difficulty.

Then it dawned on her, her hands and legs were bound tightly. Her mouth was so dry she tried to swallow only to realize it was muffled by a handkerchief tied tightly between her lips and behind her head silencing any protests. 

A bout of nausea hit her hard as her gag reflex kicked in, again.  Her stomach flipped, having nothing inside of it to exit.  Her eyes watered, her skin heated as she wretched violently.  Taking deep labored breaths through her nose, Camelia tried to fight a wave of dizziness. 

A small slit of light entered the dark room.

She quickly squeezed her shutting eyes shut, feeling as though sharp needles pierced them.  Peeling her eyes open, she squinted, her heart pounded with fear as a small shadow of a man in strange robes enters the cell and approaches her. 

Producing a set of keys from his clothing. It jiggles as he slides a key into the lock on the cage. Only then Camelia realized she was put in a cramped cell—the very same ones used to trap animals.