𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 ✓ | 18+

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Isabella

I woke up to the sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance, each drop echoing like a countdown to my despair. The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by a flickering, unreliable bulb that cast eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the acrid smell of dampness, mingled with the faint, metallic scent of rust. I tried to move, but pain shot through my shoulders and wrists as I discovered my hands were bound tightly behind my back. The rough rope dug mercilessly into my skin, the friction leaving raw, burning marks.

Panic surged through me like an electric current. My heart raced, each beat a drum of fear against my ribcage. I struggled to piece together what had happened. Flashes of the last few hours swirled in my mind—dark figures, a struggle in the apartment, the sickening smell of chloroform suffocating me as I lost consciousness.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. My breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps as I tried to calm the rising tide of terror. I was in some kind of basement, the dank, cold stone walls surrounding me, pressing in with their oppressive weight. The only source of light was the dim bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling, its flicker casting distorted shapes around me.

Footsteps echoed from above, each sound reverberating through the hollow space like a warning. My entire body tensed, a shiver of dread running down my spine. The door to the basement creaked open, and the two men who had taken me appeared. Their faces, shadowed and menacing, twisted with a cruel amusement that made my stomach churn.

"Look who's awake," the blonde one said, his voice a harsh rasp that sent a jolt of fear through me. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto mine. He strode towards me with deliberate, predatory steps, and I felt a surge of panic as he bent down and grabbed my chin with a grip that was both painful and invasive. "You're going to regret biting me, bitch."

funny thing Is that I'm not going to

His fingers were rough and unyielding, and the pressure made it hard to breathe. I turned my head, trying to escape his gaze, but his grip was unrelenting. The dark-haired man, the one who had been lurking in the shadows, leaned casually against the wall, his eyes fixed on me with a mixture of disdain and amusement. "We've got all the time in the world to make you pay," he said, his tone dripping with a casual cruelty that made my skin crawl.

I glared at them, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest. I refused to show them my fear, even though it was clawing at me from the inside. "Just let me go, I won't tell anyone about this." I said through clenched teeth, trying to sound as defiant as I could manage. "Someone will find me."

The blonde man, whose name I gathered was Kyler, responded with a sneer. Without warning, he slapped me hard across the face. The sudden, sharp pain made my vision swim, and tears sprang to my eyes from the sting. "Shut up," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "Your father sold you to us. No one's coming to save you."

The impact of his words hit me like a physical blow. My father had been an absent figure from my past and was suddenly a part of my present nightmare. Why would he do this? The confusion and betrayal surged through me, mingling with my fear. The reality of my situation sank in with crushing weight. My father had left me to the mercy of these men.

. . .

The men took a perverse pleasure in tormenting me. They mocked me with cruel jokes and taunts, their laughter echoing in the confined space. Kyler seemed to derive the most satisfaction from my suffering. His cold blue eyes followed me with an unsettling intensity, and he took every opportunity to touch me, his hands rough and invasive. His actions were deliberate, meant to humiliate and dominate. like Oliver.

Brodie, the dark-haired man, was equally cruel, though his pleasure seemed to come more from watching my suffering. He would often sit back and observe, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth, while Kyler inflicted pain or humiliation.

They didn't bother to provide much in the way of food or water. I could feel myself growing weaker with each passing day, my energy sapped by the lack of nourishment and the constant stress. My body ached, every movement a struggle against the bonds that chafed at my wrists. Yet despite the physical and emotional torment, I refused to give in. I couldn't let them break me. I had to find a way to escape, to survive.

One night, after another round of torment, the men left me alone in the basement. I could hear their voices drifting down from above, muffled by the thick walls and the clamor of whatever they were doing. I took advantage of their absence to try and gather my strength. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, forcing myself to stay calm despite the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

There had to be a way out

I searched the room with my eyes, trying to assess my surroundings. The basement was sparsely furnished, with a few old crates and discarded items strewn about. The walls were made of rough stone, and the ceiling was low, with the bulb hanging just above my head. The door was heavy, reinforced with metal, and looked nearly impossible to break down. My hands were bound, and any attempt to wriggle free had only resulted in more pain.

My mind raced as I considered my options. There was a small window near the ceiling, but it was too high and too narrow to reach. I needed to find a way to use the tools around me to my advantage. The ropes binding my wrists were frayed in places, and I focused on those areas, trying to wear them down with the minimal movement I could manage.

The sound of footsteps approaching made my heart leap. The men were coming back, and I had to act quickly. I tried to loosen the ropes, my hands slipping against the coarse fibers. I had to be ready for whatever was coming next.

The door creaked open, and Kyler and Brodie reappeared. Their faces were obscured by shadows, but their presence was palpable, a suffocating aura of menace. Kyler's eyes gleamed with cruel anticipation, while Brodie's gaze was cold and indifferent.

"Ready for round two?" Kyler's voice was a sneer, and I could hear the malicious glee in his tone.

"Please don't."I sobbed, my mind racing. I had to find a way to escape, to get out of this hellhole before they could do more damage. I watched their movements carefully, hoping for an opportunity, a moment when their guard was down.

The fear gnawed at me, but I fought to stay focused. I knew that I had to keep my wits about me. I had to be ready to seize any chance, no matter how small, to escape and seek help. The darkness of the basement seemed to close in around me

I miss mom, I miss my Emily, I miss my old life. I even miss him.

The moments stretched out as they approached, and I prepared myself for the worst.