That One Kiss

𝟖.𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝.

The door creaked open, and a plate of flat bread was thrust into their lap, the meager offering landing with a soft thud. But it was the sight of Sahar's tears that truly broke Isleen's heart. Her friend's eyes, once bright and full of life, now brimmed with sorrow, her gaze sunken and defeated.

The bread, a cruel mockery of their hunger, seemed to taunt them, a reminder of their captivity and helplessness. Isleen's own eyes welled up with tears, as she reached out a trembling hand to brush away Sahar's tears, her touch a feeble attempt to comfort her friend in the face of unimaginable horror. The silence between them was oppressive, a heavy blanket that suffocated all hope, leaving only despair in its wake.

The ropes binding their wrists were loosened, but their legs remained tied, a cruel reminder of their ongoing captivity. As Sahar reached for the bread, her eyes fixed on it with a desperate longing, the man's hand shot out, snatching it away from her grasp. He taunted her, holding the bread just out of reach, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure. Sahar's face contorted in anguish, her mouth opening in a silent cry, as if the bread was her last hope.

Isleen's heart wrenched in sympathy, her own hunger and thirst momentarily forgotten in the face of her friend's suffering. The guards outside the door seemed to be enjoying the spectacle, their cruel laughter and jeers piercing the air, making the scene even more unbearable.

The man's departure did little to alleviate the tension, as Sahar's tears continued to flow, her eyes fixed on Isleen with a desperate plea. Their faces, once radiant with life and hope, now seemed pale and gaunt, their skin pulled taut over their cheekbones. The dim light in the room casts eerie shadows on their faces, accentuating the dark circles under their eyes. Isleen's heart went out to her friend, her own emotions mirroring Sahar's despair.

She struggled to find words of comfort, but her voice caught in her throat, unable to articulate the sorrow and fear that gripped her own heart. The silence between them was oppressive, heavy with the weight of their captivity and the uncertainty of their fate.

Isleen's voice was barely above a whisper, but her words held a conviction that seemed to resonate deep within Sahar's soul. ❝ Caleb would definitely come, Sahar. ❞ The statement was a beacon of hope in the darkness, a reminder that they were not forgotten, that someone was searching for them. Sahar's tears slowed, her gaze locking onto Isleen's, as if clinging to the promise. Her lips trembled, but she managed a faint nod, as if willing herself to believe.

The words hung in the air, a tangible thread of hope that bound them together, a reminder that they were not alone, and that Caleb would move heaven and earth to find them.

Sahar's voice was laced with desperation, her words tumbling out in a frantic plea. ❝ I need to use the washroom! ❞ she screamed, her body squirming in discomfort. The ropes binding her legs seemed to tighten, a cruel reminder of her captivity. Her eyes wild with fear, she looked at Isleen, as if begging her to somehow magic away their restraints. The guards outside the door merely laughed, their mocking tones echoing through the room.

Isleen's face contorted in empathy, her own bladder aching in solidarity. She knew they had to hold on, that Caleb would come, but the agony in Sahar's eyes was a harsh reminder of their dire situation.

The sound of the slap echoed through the room, a harsh crack that seemed to split the air. Sahar's head jerked to the side, her eyes wide with shock and pain. The guards grasped her arms, dragging her away as she stumbled, her legs struggling to move. Isleen's scream was a raw, anguished wail, her voice shredding with fear and helplessness.

She strained against her own restraints, her body arching in a futile attempt to reach her friend. The guards' laughter and jeers accompanied Sahar's cries, creating a chilling symphony that haunted the dark, damp space. As Sahar was shoved into the washroom, Isleen's vision blurred, her tears falling like rain, her heart shattering into a million pieces.

The guards roughly retied the ropes around Sahar's wrists and ankles, their harsh movements exacerbating her distress. Sahar's sobs grew louder, her body shaking with uncontrollable anguish. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, pleaded with Isleen, as if seeking solace or escape from the unending torment. The ropes seemed to bite deeper into her skin.

Isleen's own tears fell in tandem with Sahar's, her heart heavy with the weight of their shared suffering. The silence that followed was oppressive, punctuated only by the faint sound of Sahar's muffled sobs, a haunting echo that seemed to reverberate through the darkness.

A stranger entered, his presence suffused with an aura of entitlement, his gaze scouring over Sahar and Isleen with a reprehensible intensity. His words dripped with malice.

❝ You are here for my pleasure, you owe me satisfaction. ❞ The man's crude words hung in the air like a toxic cloud, his gaze crawling over Sahar and Isleen like a vile insect. His eyes gleamed with a sickening entitlement, as if he believed they were mere objects for his gratification.

Sahar's sobs faltered, replaced by a stunned silence, her eyes wide with horror. Isleen's mind raced, her thoughts screaming in protest, as she struggled to comprehend the unspeakable fate that awaited them.

The man's presence seemed to pollute the space, his very existence a blasphemy against humanity. The air grew thick with tension, heavy with the weight of their vulnerability, as they faced the abyss of his depravity.

The man's hand moved with a calculated slowness, his fingers tracing the curves of Isleen's lips with a grotesque gentleness. The touch sent shivers down her spine, her skin crawling with revulsion. Sahar's eyes widened in horror, her gaze fixed on the violated lips, her mind reeling with the implications.

Isleen's breath caught, her voice frozen in her throat, as she struggled to push his hand away. The man's eyes gleamed with a perverse satisfaction, his smile twisting into a sadistic grin, as he savored their helplessness. The air seemed to vibrate with tension, heavy with the weight of their vulnerability, as they faced the monster before them.

The man's gaze lingered on the girls, his eyes burning with an unspoken promise, as he whispered,
❝ I'll be back.❞ The door creaked open, and a voice summoned him away, but not before he traced his fingers along Sahar's cheekbone, leaving a trail of revulsion.

The touch was a deliberate violation, a cruel reminder of their captivity. Sahar's eyes flashed with fear, her skin recoiling from the contact. Isleen's heart raced in solidarity, her own horror mirrored in her friend's eyes. The man's departure did little to alleviate their distress, his parting gesture a chilling hint at the torments to come.

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