Blud

Part 17: Eve

"Get up." A voice above me barks before I feel a sharp jab on my ribs. I groan, grabbing my side and looking up. Marcus stands over me, glaring down with his teeth bared. "Get. Up." He growls. I force my stiff, dehydrated muscles to move, standing up too slowly for him so he grabs a fistfull of hair and yanks me to my feet. I cry out in pain, my raspy voice echoing in the concrete cell.

"Why aren't you drinking," He demands, shaking me by my hair. I whimper, holding his hand to my scalp to ease the tension. He glances over at the pile of blood bags in the corner of the room I have been ignoring. "Are you trying to starve yourself? You know that wont work," he sneers. "You're just making yourself harder to sell." He growls, pulling me toward the door. I try to walk beside him as he fist tightens in my hair, tears falling from my eyes silently. He leads me out the door and into the halfway, which is more silver doors. I stumble with him to the end of the hall, where we stop and he lets me go, throwing me onto the floor. I catch myself before I fall on my face, but my head throbs and my knees crack the concrete beneath me.

"You've really become a thorn in my side, you know that?" He spits out, pulling something out of his pocket. I don't even bother to look at what he has. I can't fight back, with how weak I made myself, and he could kill me right now. I would welcome it. I've been curled up in a ball in the dark in that cold cell for days now, and I don't even know why I'd bother fighting. Liam hasn't found me, and the chances of him succeeding are so low... I don't even try to pull away as he reaches down and swipes my hair off my neck, jabbing a needle into my flesh. In a matter of seconds my vision darkens, my arms giving out as I land on the cold stone, and I feel him lift my limp body off the floor.

~

I wake up in the back seat of Marcus sports car, sprawled out on the leather, my clammy skin sticking to it as I try to sit up.

"No funny business, or I knock your ass out again, got it?" Marcus greets from the driver's seat. I lean against the door and groan, grabbing my head. My brain pounds against my skull, my stomach tightening with each throb, threatening to expel its contents, if it had any. He slows to a stop and parks. I crack my eyes open again, glancing around. I recognize the outside of Bloodlust, and a scowl.

"Why are we here?" I croak, clearing my throat. I swallow some spit, and that helps a little but I'm so dry that it doesn't help much. He ignores me, getting out and slamming the door. He whips my door open and I nearly fall out. He catches me by my under arms and drags me out of the car, my feet finding purchase and as I scramble to stand.

"Let's go," He growls as he yanks my arm toward the back of the club. Its pitch black and quiet outside, which means the club is closed. It must be after four in the morning. He leads me to an unmarked door with a flickering light above it, and I hesitate for a second. He feels me stop and he turns to me, fury in his eyes and he tugs my arm.

"I said let's go," He pulls me and I have no chance against his strength, so I stifle a cry and stumble as he shoves the door open and pushes me through. He shuts the door behind us and nudges me forward into the dark empty club. I look around anxiously, hoping someone will walk by, maybe a staff member, and see me. I'm walking too slow for him so he steps in front of me and grabs my arm again, dragging me toward the back of the club where the private balconies are.

He leads me up the spiral stairs but we stop on the second level and he puts his finger on the lock pad and the door clicks, giving him access. I narrow my eyes at him as he pulls me inside. Letting me go, he flicks on some lights and I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut tight as the pain in my head amplifies.

"Sit," he barks as he pulls out his phone, and I look at the room through slitted lids. The room is stark white, with a small table and four chairs in the middle, and on the opposite wall there is a glass window with a viewing hall on the other side of it, like for a police lineup. I swallow, my throat burning as I obey him, scuffing my feet to the chair farthest away. He leans against the wall and types for a long time, looking at me every once in a while.