Twenty three

10 1 6
                                    

The stench is unbearable. Two hours, of rot filling the air, of death hovering over me like a cruel shadow. My stomach churns every time I inhale, and I can't even turn my head far enough to avoid the putrid scent. I can barely remember what fresh air smells like. Everything is just this-rot, blood, and sweat.

The dead body lies inches away, its cold, stiff presence taunting me, reminding me how close I am to that same fate. I can't push it away, can't shift it. My wrists are cuffed to the bed, the metal biting into my skin, and my legs are tied down so tightly I can't even kick. I'm trapped here, and every muscle screams from the strain of being forced into this motionless state. It's maddening. The only thing I can move is my head, and even that's a small mercy.

I can't believe it's been two hours. It feels like a twisted eternity. If I want something, he comes. He always comes. I don't even know who he is. I don't recognize his face.

I try to look away, but my eyes keep drifting back to the corpse beside me. The smell, the sight of it, the way its lifeless limbs hang awkwardly against the bed. It's the most grotesque reminder of where I am, and every time I shut my eyes, it's all I see.

I need to escape. I can't take it anymore. The panic is like a rising tide, threatening to drown me in hopelessness. My wrists burn from pulling at the cuffs, but they won't budge. The rope around my ankles is too tight, and every time I try to shift, it cuts into my skin. My throat is raw from screaming, from begging. But no one comes except him. No one ever comes except him.

And I don't know who the hell he is.

The creak of the door wakes me from my restless dozing. My eyes snap open, and there he is-him, the man who feeds me like an animal and leaves me to rot next to a corpse. The hinges whine as he slowly shuts the door behind him, the sound echoing through the small wooden house. There's something different tonight, something more dangerous in the way he moves, in the way he locks the door behind him with a slow, deliberate click.

"I wanted Blaze," he says, his voice low, dripping with frustration, "and I got you instead."

I freeze. My heart skips a beat. Blaze? He wanted Blaze?

He stalks closer, his eyes burning with a cruel intensity. "Have you heard that proverb about not being greedy? About keeping what you have?" He laughs, a dark, bitter sound that fills the room. "Well, I guess I'll do just that. Just this one night."

I can feel my pulse racing, pounding in my ears as I realize what he's about to do. I try to pull at the cuffs, try to move away, but I'm helpless. Bound and trapped, there's nowhere to go.

His face twists with anger, and he steps closer to the bed, towering over me. "Because I'm really, really angry, Ava. You know why? I can't get anywhere near Blaze anymore. That bastard Keith is always there, always watching, always in the way, one way or another."

Blaze. Keith. The names swirl in my mind, but there's no time to process it. I feel the tension in the air shift as he leans down closer to me, his breath hot and rancid against my skin. My body shakes with fear, dread clawing its way up my throat. I can't breathe.

"And now... I need something to quench my thirst." His voice drops to a chilling whisper. "And you're exactly what I need right now."

His words slam into me, leaving me paralyzed. No. No, this can't be happening.

I screamed at him to stop, my voice hoarse from weeks of fear, pain, and the overpowering stench of the decaying body next to me. But the man-whoever he was-ignored me, his cold hands reaching for the hem of my clothes.

"Stop!" I shouted again, thrashing as best I could, but the restraints held firm. Tears blurred my vision as he gave me that cruel, unfeeling smile.

"You can scream all you want," he said darkly, pulling the fabric with deliberate, cold malice. "No one's coming for you. I wanted Blaze, but it seems I'll have to settle for you."

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