Marry or Kill

15

M I N A

I haven't been able to sleep since I was dumped in my room, the heavy thud of the door locking behind me echoing through the silence.

The stifling confinement keeps me in a restless unease that keeps me on edge. In the shadowy confines of my room, I wait with a sense of apprehension, my nerves on edge, anticipating the creak of the door opening.

From the relentless loss of sleep, my imagination plays tricks on me, making scenarios of the door swinging open at any moment. In the restless anticipation, I find myself tapping nervously, matching the pulsating in my blood.

Thoughts of Sol flicker through my mind like distant stars, each one a silent plea for her well-being.

Suddenly, the door slams open, and a man, shrouded in a dark silhouette, steps into the room. I rise on my feet, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"We assumed you would be asleep, but it seems we'll have to resort to less subtle measures—perhaps a gentle knock on the unconscious door, so to speak."

Oh god, he's going to try to knock me out. My heart lurches in my throat when he quickly comes up to me with something in his hand.

In a swift motion, I unleash a kick toward his stomach, catching him off guard. However, he reacts with unexpected speed, seizing me and effortlessly hurling me across the room.

My head collides with the unforgiving wall, and for a moment, I hear a horrible crack.

I'm left dazed, disoriented by the impact.

Before I can fully recover, he grabs my head and slams it against the wall once more, a vicious repetition that sends shockwaves of pain through my skull. I hear the crack of my own head.

The room spins for a fleeting moment, a disorienting dance with the shadows that envelop me.

≪❈≫

A shiver worms down my spine. My eyelids feel awkward as I bust my eyes open, instantly darting them around the bone-chilling room. Someone had struck me harshly on the head—the ache gushes near my neck, pulsing rapidly.

Elias had assured me I wouldn't be harmed. An uncanny thought slinks in my mind that it might not have been him, he's never been one to break his promises. I know his unwavering loyalty well because I've seen it when it comes to me.

A cloud of fog forms in front of me as I breathe through my cracked lips, taking in the dense, small room.

How cold is it down here?

Fright pents in my stomach as I stumble into the realisation that I'm tightly strapped against a chair. An eerie nostalgia from planning Elias's death back at The East turns my body cold.

I eagerly twist around in the ropes, they look worn and weary like they've been used before. Someone else must have been writhing in the same place as me on the same ropes.

Trepidation curls in my stomach as the rope doesn't budge, rather burning around my wrists.

The room is a cold grey, four blank walls and a glass window by the door. If anything, it looks like an experimentation room, but I know it's not by the dry blood splattered across the walls. There's an odd, sharp smell that prickles at my nostrils that makes me grimace in disgust.

I don't bother working out what the smell is.

A bead of warm sweat drips down past my nose and onto the floor that's grimly stained with sombre red blood. I try moving my ankles, already feeling the wrath of the burn as I move.