Guns 'n Roses

43 Lions prey

(Pic above is a representation of what the stepdad may look like but use your imagination)

The cell had been a suffocating cage of darkness, but now, Damien had moved me into a small, dimly lit room. It was a more elaborate setup—one designed for pain and intimidation. I was tied to a chair, my hands secured with thick rope, and every part of me ached. My body was bruised and battered, the result of Damien’s relentless cruelty.

He had attached jumper cables to my fingers, the metal clamps biting into my skin. Every so often, a jolt of electricity surged through me, sending my muscles into spasms. The pain was intense, a burning, stabbing sensation that made it hard to focus on anything else. I couldn’t see my reflection, but I knew I looked a mess—my hair was matted, my face pale, and the wounds on my body were darkening into bruises.

I’d learned not to push Damien too far. His temper was unpredictable, and any defiance on my part seemed to lead to more pain. I’d tried to keep my mouth shut, but the shock of the cables was making it harder to think straight, and my resolve was slipping.

Damien hovered near me, a cruel smile on his face as he watched my suffering. His enjoyment was evident, and it only made the torment worse. His voice was low and mocking as he spoke. “Still think you’re too good to cooperate? Or are you ready to tell me what I want to know?”

Each time the electricity surged, I could feel my control slipping further. The pain was relentless, making it hard to think clearly. I knew I had to do something to end this torment, even if it meant giving in.

“Okay, okay!” I cried out as another shock hit me, my voice strained. “I’ll tell you. Just… stop!”

Damien’s grin widened, clearly satisfied with my response. “That’s more like it. Now, where’s that phone number you’re hiding?”

With shaking fingers, I recited D’Angelo’s number. It felt like betraying him, but the fear of the continued pain was too overwhelming. Damien took out his phone and dialed the number, his expression one of twisted delight as he held it up to his ear.

The line rang, and then D’Angelo’s voice came through. My heart sank at the sound of it, knowing this was only going to make things worse for him.

Well... well, well,” Damien said into the phone, his tone dripping with malice they talk for what seemed like minutes

There was a pause, and then damien brought the phone close to my face. “speak"  he muttered

Baby? Baby, you can’t trust him, don—”

He pulled  the phone away and began talking again I wanted to shout into the phone, to reach out for D’Angelo, but the pain was too overwhelming. Damien let the call drag on for a few moments before finally ending it, leaving me in a state of misery.

He approached me again, a satisfied look on his face. “Now that I’ve had my fun, I think it’s time for you to get some rest. But don’t get too comfortable. There’s still a lot more to come if you don’t start giving me what I want.”

As he left the room, the room fell into a suffocating silence. I was left alone with my pain and fear, knowing that I had to hold on just a little longer. D’Angelo would come for me; I had to believe that. The hope of rescue was the only thing keeping me from breaking entirely.

Hours passed, though it felt like days. The pain from the electric shocks still lingered in my body, a dull ache that never fully went away. My hands were numb, my wrists chafed and raw from the ropes binding me to the chair. I tried to block out the agony, to think of anything other than the torture, but it was impossible. Damien’s voice, his sadistic smile, the threats that hung in the air—it all haunted me, even in the moments when he wasn’t in the room.

I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on. The small, flickering hope that D’Angelo would find me felt like it was slipping away. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and each time Damien came back, I feared it would be the last time I could endure whatever new cruelty he had in store.

The door creaked open, and I instinctively tensed, bracing myself for more torment. But this time, Damien didn’t come in with his usual smirk. His expression was darker, more serious, as if something had changed.

“You’ve been quiet,” he remarked, circling me slowly like a predator. “I almost miss your smart mouth.”

I didn’t reply. Talking only seemed to make things worse, and I had no strength left for defiance. I kept my eyes down, avoiding his gaze.

Damien crouched in front of me, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were cold, calculating. “You’re breaking, Kylie. I can see it. But there’s still some fight left in you, isn’t there?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, his tone almost casual. “You cooperate, and I’ll let you go. All you have to do is tell me everything about D’Angelo and his operations. Contacts, safe houses, everything. You do that, and I’ll set you free. Simple as that.”

A part of me wanted to believe him, to take the offer just to escape this hell. But I knew better. Damien wasn’t the type to let loose ends go, and if I gave him what he wanted, I’d be signing D’Angelo’s death warrant, and probably my own as well.

“I don’t know anything,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “D’Angelo doesn’t tell me about his work.”

Damien’s expression hardened. “Lies won’t help you now, sweetheart. You’re too valuable for him to keep you in the dark.”

He stood up abruptly, anger flashing in his eyes. “You want to play the hero, fine. But know this: the longer you resist, the worse it’s going to get. And when I’m done with you, there won’t be anything left of the woman D’Angelo claims to love.”

He left the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving me alone in the suffocating darkness once more.

I slumped in the chair, my body shaking with fear and exhaustion. The reality of my situation was sinking in—there was no escape unless D’Angelo found me first. But how long could I hold out? How long before the pain and fear became too much?

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I let them fall, I couldn't even wipe them away. I had to be strong, to hold on just a little longer, but the uncertainty of how long that would be was killing me inside.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the world, trying to summon the image of D’Angelo’s face, the sound of his voice telling me everything would be okay. It was the only thing keeping me from completely losing hope. But with each passing hour, that hope felt more like a distant memory, fading away with every beat of my heart.