Fear

51 • Torture

The cold, damp concrete floor was my bed. My body ached from the bruises and cuts, each movement sending waves of pain through me. I had lost track of time, the days blending into an endless nightmare. My only solace was the hope that Tyler would find me.

X's visits were the worst. He took a sadistic pleasure in tormenting me, both physically and emotionally. Deprived of water for days at a time and confined to a small, windowless room barely large enough to lie down in, the darkness and isolation gnawed at my sanity. I clawed at the door and the walls, desperately trying to escape, but it was no use.

He entered the room with that cruel smile on his face, the one that made my skin crawl.

"How are we feeling today, Emily?" he asked, his voice mocking with false concern. I didn't respond. I couldn't give him the satisfaction.

He crouched down next to me, his fingers tracing the fresh bruises on my arm. I flinched but didn't move. "Still holding onto hope, I see. It's admirable, really. But foolish."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back. I couldn't let him see me cry.

"Tyler won't find you," X continued, his voice low and menacing. "He's probably dead by now. But even if he is alive, do you really think he can save you?"

His words were like knives, cutting deep into my heart. I clung to the precious memory of Tyler's face, his promise to protect me. I had to believe he was coming.

X's hand tightened around my wrist, and I winced in pain. "You know," he said, leaning in close, "this could all be over if you just give up. Accept your fate. It would be easier for you."

"Never," I whispered, my voice trembling but defiant.

He laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "Suit yourself. But the more you resist, the more you'll suffer."

With a swift motion, he pulled a knife from his belt, the blade glinting menacingly in the dim light. He pressed it against my neck, the cold metal biting into my skin. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stay calm. Tyler had taught me how to face my fear, how to stay strong even in the darkest moments.

I stared defiantly into X's eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. "Do it," I dared through gritted teeth. "I'm not afraid of you."

X's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt. He'd expected me to beg, to cry, but instead, I stood my ground.

His surprise quickly turned to anger. He pulled the knife away and leaned in close, his breath hot against my face. "You think you're brave, huh?" he sneered. "You think Tyler's gonna come and save you, huh? His little damsel in distress? He's dead. And soon, you'll wish you were too."

I spat at him, my saliva mixed with blood from a cut in my mouth. The look of pure fury on his face was almost worth the pain that followed. He kicked me hard in the stomach, and I doubled over, gasping for breath. The pain was excruciating, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

X stood over me, his face contorted with rage. "You just made a big mistake," he hissed. "I'll make you pay for that."

For the next few days, X intensified his torture. Each morning began with a beating, his fists and boots finding every vulnerable spot on my body. The small room became a cell of agony, the walls and my clothes decorated only by my own urine and blood.

Dehydration made my head pound, and hunger gnawed at my insides, but I still desperately held onto hope.

His men were no better. They handled me roughly, dragging me from the cell for X's amusement, then throwing me back in with a force that left me breathless and bruised. Their laughter echoed in my ears. I was only thankful they didn't r*pe me.

One day, I remember, X introduced a new form of torment. He brought a bucket of water, holding it just out of reach. "Thirsty?" he taunted, splashing some water on the floor near me. I lunged for it, but he kicked it away, laughing at my desperation. My lips were cracked and my throat felt like sandpaper, but I refused to beg.

"You're tougher than I thought," X mused, crouching down to look me in the eye. "But everyone breaks eventually."

I glared at him, my hatred burning bright. "You won't break me," I whispered, my voice raspy.

His smile faded, replaced by a look of cold determination. "We'll see about that."

The days blurred together in a haze of pain and suffering. Each night, I lay on the concrete floor, my body screaming in agony. I whispered Tyler's name like a prayer. The darkness was suffocating, but the thought of him kept a flicker of light alive in my heart.

Two weeks passed in this hellish cycle. My body was a canvas of bruises and cuts from X's cruelty. I grew weaker with each passing day, the deprivation taking its toll.

But I refused to die.
I refused to let him win.

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