Blood & Lust [Book Two of The City of Eternity Series] [✔]

2.12: Uccellino

It was the dripping that was making this so insufferable. A painfully consistent trickle somewhere on my left occurred every 4.2 seconds, hitting a metallic surface with a dissatisfying clang. Each one penetrated into me and demanded my uninterrupted attention, to the extent I spent all of those 4.2 seconds waiting for the next one.

Which, in consideration, was the least of my worries. The forefront of my issues was the shrieking of the door directly in front of me; the metal scraping against the concrete floor drove a shiver down my spine each time. It wasn't the noise that was the issue; it was what I had decided the noise meant.

Every so often the clang would occur, followed by a guttural clashing against the brick wall then a brief, soft interlude of steps walking towards me. After that I can never tell what happens; there's a good five minutes of pure, uninterrupted silence before the steps retreat back to the door and the clang repeats and the lock clicks.

I had to imagine it'd been over an hour with six instances of the intrusion, with my only company being the ache in my arms as they struggled against the binds, and the drip.

I can't help but worry about my chances in this situation, there's no clear exit and if I struggle too much here, completely in vain, I won't have the energy to deal with what comes next.

There was a voice in the back of my head that was muttering every outcome under the sun, every ending to this scenario, every consequence of those footsteps and I couldn't quite find a positive one to retort with. My often optimistic outlook on my circumstances had taken a backseat, the direness of the situation intimidating it.

I had to contemplate that the voice was right. Especially when a clang occurs out of rhythm; they are coming in far too soon. Not only that, but the soft footsteps had turned into heavy, forceful footsteps charging towards me. It took every ounce of strength I had to hold in the yell that was desperate to be evicted from my throat.

My fingers unconsciously gripped onto the skin of my arm, nails digging deep into the skin, eyes shutting tightly despite it making no difference. Whoever had entered the room had snatched my hands, their rough skin scraping against my own as they sliced the binds.

The fabric had been hastily fitted back around my face before all contact was dropped from my body. I could hear them breathing heavily, just in front of me, deep hollow breaths. Was he just taking a moment to look at me in my helplessness?

Just when I thought it was over, those same hands had gripped me by the waist and thigh and hauled me over their shoulder. I bit hard on my cheek. Something told me letting out the scream that was resting in the depths of my stomach wouldn't help my case.

When the fabric is snatched away once again, I have to adjust to the bright lights that almost blind me. Being in such a dark room for however long it was had left me disorientated here. What made it worse, was the ocean of faces that I was met with when the haze in my vision mellowed. Most of the room had lifted their heads to meet my eye line, and I tried to take in as many as I could, but barely any time passed before the man roughly shoved me to the ground and slammed the door we'd entered through shut.