Fate's Unwritten Path

Chapter Thirty-Two

Sarah's POV:

*Trigger warning for certain types of tortures*

From the moment I was dragged into the dimly lit room, I sensed the sinister intentions lurking behind his cold eyes. The air was thick with tension, and my heart pounded in my chest like a drum. He circled me like a predator, his gaze piercing through my resolve.

"Do as I say," he commanded his voice a low growl. "Prove your loyalty."

I stood still, refusing to show any sign of fear. His demands grew more degrading with each passing moment, testing the limits of my obedience. When he ordered me to strip, I felt a surge of defiance rise within me.

"No," I said firmly, my voice unwavering. His eyes narrowed, and I could see the flicker of anger ignite within them.

His patience wore thin. With a swift motion, he slapped me across the face, the sting of his hand leaving a burning imprint on my cheek. I staggered but held my ground. He struck me again, harder this time, but I refused to give in.

"Strip," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. I shook my head, my resolve unbroken.

In a fit of rage, he pinned me against the wall, his grip bruising my arms. With brutal force, he tore the clothes from my body, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

He dragged me across the room to a covered hole. As he lifted the cover, I peered into the abyss below—a deep, dark pit that seemed to swallow all hope. My heart raced as he forced me to the edge.

"You'll stay down there until you learn to obey," he sneered, shoving me into the hole. I fell, my naked body hitting the cold, unforgiving ground. Pain shot through me, but I bit back a cry.

He placed a grate over the hole, his cold eyes staring down at me. "Remember, this is your fate until you submit."

**Day 1: The Descent into Darkness**

The first day in the pit was a blur of pain and disorientation. The cold, damp walls seemed to close in on me, and the darkness was absolute. I could hear the faint sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance, a constant reminder of my isolation. My body ached from the fall, and I struggled to find a comfortable position on the hard ground. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but I refused to let it weaken my resolve. I knew I had to conserve my strength for whatever lay ahead.

Every breath I took felt like inhaling icy shards, the air so frigid it burned my lungs. The smell of earth and mildew was overpowering, making it hard to think clearly. I reached out, my fingers brushing against the rough, uneven surface of the walls, trying to map out my prison. It was as if the pit was alive, its cold embrace tightening around me with every passing moment. I could feel the dampness seeping through my clothes, chilling me to the bone.

Time lost all meaning in that oppressive darkness. Minutes felt like hours and hours like days. I tried to focus on the sound of the dripping water, using it as a lifeline to keep my mind from spiraling into panic. My thoughts drifted to the world above, to the life I had been so abruptly torn from. I wondered if anyone was looking for me if anyone even knew I was gone. The fear of being forgotten, of being left to rot in this forsaken hole, gnawed at me as fiercely as the hunger. But I pushed those thoughts away, forcing myself to stay strong. I had to believe that I would find a way out and that this was not the end.

**Day 2: The Hunger Sets In**

By the second day, the hunger had become unbearable. My stomach growled incessantly, and every muscle in my body screamed for nourishment. The cold, damp air seemed to amplify my suffering, making every ache and pain feel even more intense. I tried to distract myself by counting the drips of water echoing through the darkness, but it was a futile effort. The gnawing emptiness inside me was impossible to ignore.