Chapter 11 ⁓ Kind Of Wonderful

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It's a nightmare

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It's a nightmare.

No, it's a memory.

A strange awareness of that certainty overtakes her as she teeters on the edge of wakefulness. It doesn't stop the icy fear from dragging her into the murky depths of all-consuming despair.

It's devouring her.

The smell of tobacco and dust hangs heavy in the air. Her wet clothing sticks to her body. The scratchy wood of the support pillar she leans against digs into her back. She doesn't try to escape. The door is locked. The window is barred. The basement she's in will be her coffin; she knows this. Her fear is suffocating.

Where is she?

Oh right. She's been kidnapped by a lunatic.

She'd fled her aunt's house. Anywhere would be better away from that witch, but the universe laughed at her and sent him. The man she'd met at the gas station with his expensive clothing, who only needed to flash a dazzling smile to have her clambering into his nice car; idiotic dreams of freedom taking away all survival instinct. And when he'd turned out to be less than nice, she'd been at his mercy. The fight she'd given was pathetic; she'd missed dinner for a few nights now and was weak from walking miles upon miles.

Now he's going to kill her. He'd told her so when he dumped her in the basement of this sparsely furnished house.

The dream flies forward, with time speeding up. Flashes of the faceless man stomping down the stairs to grab her, and she fights, wild and feral. She can hardly remember his features after so many years, but she recalls that he was handsome with styled brown hair and smelled like woody cologne.

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