After being disowned by her parents, fifteen year old Serena Verlice finds herself in a toxic relationship with a much older man. She undergoes four years of emotional and physical abuse until one day she goes to the doctor and receives a devastatin...
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Forty-eight hours later
"James?"James!" I call out as he storms into the motel room, heading straight towards the bathroom.
He's barely been here since he left me handcuffed to the bed two days ago which has been a blessing and a curse. Thankfully I've had very few interactions with him but on the other hand I don't know how much longer I'll last stuck here.
I don't know whether it's from the radiation but I've been seriously ill over the past few days. My skin is constantly coated in sweat from the fever I've been burning and the already stained carpet next to my bed is now covered in vomit from the numerous times I've been sick.
I want to go home. It smells putrid in here and the anxiety of not knowing what James is up to is unbearable.
The bathroom door creaks open and James comes sauntering out, patting his hands dry on his jeans.
"James?" I ask tenderly, hoping if I'm nice to him he'll start to open up more. He glares at me through the corner of his eye, ignoring me as he walks back towards the door.
He's been pissed at me since the first night we arrived when he revealed to me that he wanted us to be together forever and then proceeded to try and kiss me. I put up a fight, resulting in my now bruised cheek and his annoyed attitude.
He thinks that he owns me, that he deserves me after all the 'effort' he put into getting me here.
When I told him that I never asked for him to kidnap me and that I'd rather be with Emilio he was so furious that he refused to even look at me, leaving me here.
He's only returned for short intervals to take showers and occasionally let me use the bathroom.
"James?" I cough, my throat scratchy. "James please talk to me, I love you," I lie, the words struggling to get out.
He stops in his tracks, standing in the centre of the room as he waits for me to continue. I swallow the lump in my throat, realising that if I want to get out of here I'll have to play his game.
"I miss you so much, I just want to know what's going on with you," I plead, using the fact that he seems to be stressed.
He turns his head towards me, a skeptical expression plastered across his features. I hold eye contact with him, trying to pretend that the mere sight of him doesn't make me sick.
He sighs, immediately conceding.
"I miss you too," He mumbles, approaching the bed and leaning down to kiss my forehead. He grimaces, staring down at the puddle of vomit on the floor before sitting down on the bed.
"Tell me what's going on," I tell him softly, trying and failing to prop myself up which proves to be a difficult task with my hands still tied behind my back.
