"Where do I go from here...?"
The question that Zayla has been forced to ask herself time and time again.She lost it all, first were her family then her home, and next is her life if she doesn't do what they say, and it's all because of...
i am soo happy people have read my book at first i thought no one would even touch it but they did and are!!!!!! and for that Enjoy this chapter my lovely Risers!!!!!!
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zayla in the dundeon--------------------^
After completing a body sweep I found that my shoes had been taken leaving me bare footed and beside the head gash, I had a raw throat, busted lip, sprained wrist, bloody probably broken nose and a couple bruises. The pain was almost unbearable; I think death would have been better than this. It's been thirty minutes since I've woken up and found myself in this cellar.
The first thing that I noticed was that the looks went perfectly with the smell. It reeked of mildew and rat feces. As if the smell weren't bad enough, they had me chained by my ankle and wrist, luckily not the sprained one.
Not that I could move even if I wanted to, I haven't progressed a mere foot from the spot I was initially in.
Every inch of my body ached, the cut on my forearm seemed to have already healed to the point it was almost gone. After all I've always been a fast healer; I guess you could say that was one of my special talents.
I made an attempt to prop myself up on one arm, only to realize that I didn't even have enough strength to do that. I quickly came to the conclusion that it would be best if I just stayed down.
I adjusted my body to be on my side so that I was staring at one of the three grim infested walls. My eyes traced the rectangular chucks of cement as I listened to the faint taps on the floor as water dripped. The dribble was incessant, each drop reminding me of where I was.
A draft blew, forcing a shiver down my spine and out through my pores. I tugged at my cloak to see if I could get it any tighter around my body. I couldn't help but think of Theia as the cloth pressed against my face.
"Theia, why'd you have to come back, you could have been free, you could have been happy, you could have been alive.
My eyes burned from the tears trying to force their way out. I refused to let them out, so I force them back like I have so many times in the past. This time I couldn't, and in seconds I'm sobbing taking jagged and sharp breaths at a time. Tears of pain, loss, and sadness; a years' worth of tear all coming out at once; each drop carrying its own memory.
