One and only warning: This book contains religion, catholic guilt, sex addiction, drug abuse, graphic sexual content and heavy violence. Read at your own discretion.
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"I am a priest, Anna. A child of god. You are a temptation," He whispered out, h...
TW: GUN VIOLENCE, DRUGGING, GASLIGHTING, AND TORTURE.
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I felt my head throbbing as my eyes fluttered, vision blurred. I couldn't tell where I was, everything was delayed in motion and I felt a tingling feeling in my arms. I groaned, raising my hand to wipe away the blurry vision, only for my hand to jerk back. I coughed, chest tightening, my head fell back against a wooden wall.
Moments later my vision started to clear up. Still unaware of where I was, panic started my heart up. Pulling on the chains, my wrists were bruised. What did they do to me? I felt sick to my stomach to think about it. My head lulled to the right of me, finding Gracie who was hidden in a corner, still unconscious. I whimpered as I pulled on the chains once more, pulling my body forward.
"Gracie," I whispered, "Gracie, please...please, wake up."
A clanging metal noise jolted me. To my left, I jerked my head. Tears pricked my eyes as I set my sights on Zayn. I almost couldn't believe it; he was alive, well, barely. The looks of him made me sick. His usual bright color was dulled, god knows how long they had kept him in here. When was the last time he ate? Drank water?
When were we brought here?
The horrors of the prior village started to flood my head, my chest tightening. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. I felt like I was going crazy. How long has it been? Did they put anything in my system? The stress was too much, I started to gag. I grabbed a hold of the chains and tugged on them as hard as I could. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn't dare to scream for help, it was useless.
And I didn't want them to know that I was awake either.
"Zayn!" I whisper shouted, "Are you awake? A–alive?"
No response, but I watched his chest move in shallow breathing motions. I sighed happily, but not enough for it to relieve any sort of stress. I hated being tied down like this, I hated the feeling of this cuffs around my feet, around my wrists, and I broke out into a sob as the fear of them drugging me entered my mind.
I don't want to be drugged. Not again. Please, not again.
Tears stained my cheeks as I gazed around the room, trying to find anything that would be able to help me get out of these cuffs. Shortening breath didn't help the panic attack that crept up on me. Around the room, it was small, and it was somewhat dark. There were a few candles that were hit up around the room, but that was it. I tried to extend my foot to kick Gracie's, but it didn't reach, neither did it reach Zayn.
If I wanted to stand on my feet, I couldn't. The chains were so short that I barely had room to move. My head rocked back and forth against the wall, thinking, crying, sniffling. Terrified was an understatement, but it fit in the moment. I hoped that our baby was okay, that the chemicals didn't affect them. My stomach turned at the thought and I blew out a sob.
