Their Midnight Obsession | 18+

Chapter 33

LUNA'S POV

In the damp, dimly lit dungeon, I hung by my wrists from the unforgiving chains that suspended me from the ceiling. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, much like my whipped body. "Three-hundred and fifty-five," I murmured, my voice barely audible even to myself. Each count was a testament to the excruciating beatings I endured, a relentless cycle of agony that seemed to have no end.

My body throbbed with pain, every joint aching as the weight of my own frame pulled relentlessly at my suspended limbs. The chains bit into my flesh, leaving red indentations that mirrored the torment etched into my soul. My breaths came in ragged gasps, the air heavy with the stench of drugs he forced me to consume.

The flashes of bright light, strategically designed by him to torture me, assaulted my senses. My head pulsed with a dull ache, and my eyes burned from the relentless onslaught. The blinding brightness left me disoriented, teetering on the boundary of sanity.

"Three hundred and fifty-six," I whispered, the numbers merging with my tortured thoughts. My mind echoed with the haunting repetition of my own suffering. I longed for the refuge of darkness, a respite from the assault on my body and mind. "Three hundred and fifty-seven," I continued in a hushed tone.

I wondered how much longer I could endure, the fine line between reality and madness growing ever thinner. The pain, both physical and psychological, etched lines on my face, mapping out the story of my endurance.

In the corridors of my mind, Logan's sadistic game had rendered me a mere shell, a vessel for relentless suffering. The burning imprints of my last punishment still lingered on my body, a painful testimony etched into my chest and abdomen. Each ache served as a cruel reminder of my futile escape, a desperate sprint into the woods.

I remember it vividly—the fleeting hope when I spotted the door slightly ajar, the adrenaline-fueled decision to run into the woods. However, my escape was short-lived. Logan, swift and merciless, caught me near the house, and in punishment, he threw acid on my exposed chest and abdomen.

The acid intensified the slow burn on my tortured flesh. They seeped into raw wounds, each one a portal to a new realm of agony. My body convulsed with pain, the sensation akin to liquid fire coursing through my veins. In the unforgiving dungeon, I writhed, each scream a desperate plea for mercy, a plea lost in the abyss.

Regaining consciousness marked the beginning of another brutal chapter. He further brutalized me with a belt, the leather leaving welts on my defenseless body. The brutality etched into my memory, a haunting narrative of torment that refused to fade. 

I, now naked and hanging by my wrists, whispered through gritted teeth, "Three hundred and fifty-eight."

Starvation gnawed at my insides, a constant companion in the desolation of my captivity. My head throbbed with a dull ache, a consequence of both sleep deprivation and the relentless physical torment. The days blurred into a nightmarish continuum, the boundaries between wakefulness and delirium becoming increasingly indistinct.

Recollections  clawed at my mind—the searing pain of an iron rod striking me, the metallic clang resonating in the cold, damp air.Whispers of Logan's twisted proclamations echoed in my ears. "You think you can escape me?" His voice, laced with obsessive possession, reverberated through the confines of my tortured mind. I winced at the mental replay, the relentless beating serving as a grim reminder of my captivity.