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So I decided to leave the cover as is. Oh and enjoy the story! ♥
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There was nothing in the trunk to get out with. Nothing to hit him with. So I let him lead me into the back of a nice house in the middle of nowhere.
There was white furniture and paintings and granite counters with furry carpet. The neatness of it all reminded me of my own immaculate house with the wooden furnishings and leather sofas.
"Sit down."
My hands were tied but I had no thought of running away. Where would I go? It was over.
I'd be dead soon so what was the point in running away from it?
Grayson. My family. Briella. That rung in the back of my head.
"What are you gonna do to me?"
"I'm not doing anything. I'm just your transportation." He poured himself a glass of red wine and leaned into the counter.
"What are you waiting for?" I snapped.
He shrugged, his blue eyes looking dull and lifeless. Like a zombie. He looked slightly older than me. Yet, familiar. I couldn't place a finger on it yet.
Ten minutes of sitting on the couch.
Ten minutes of figuring out how not to let myself be taken advantage of. I didn't want to be a victim. No, I wanted to be far from that. I wanted to survive but on my own terms.
The door knock startled me as I realized that he was going to open it and release me into a world of pure evil.
But I was already in that world, obviously.
I fingered my necklace nervously. This was my only connection to Grayson.
There was a few mumbles and then he showed me a man with a bearded face and a bunch of tattoos. He looked in his thirties.
My heart rate sped up. Pretend to be happy. Pretend to be happy. Don't talk back. Don't talk back.
He showed us a bedroom in the far back of the house and closed the door behind him.
There was a bed. Just a bed and a window with a thick curtain. And a lamp.
"You're beautiful." He tried brushing my hair away from my face and I shoved his hand away, overpowered by the temptation to hit him and kick him.
The soft look in his eyes was quickly replaced with one of anger.
"Get in the bed."
I did what I was told and as I heard him unbuckle his jeans, my heart dropped.
"Roll over." He ordered. No.
"Roll over!" This time, he gripped my wrists and forced me onto my stomach.
Before I knew what I was doing, I had turned over, grabbed the lamp, and smashed it against his head.
