Tortured - Jaele

C H A P T E R | T W O

                                | R I E L E |

There was the sensation of being carried and laid down. A pair of hands were sliding up and down my body. Gentle but firm. My necklace was gone, the weight of my birthstone against my throat was missing. My earrings and bracelets. Gone. There was the scent of warm skin, like fresh clean laundry. A dark presence was there one moment, and then it vanished.

In the midst of waking, drops of my memory began falling into place. My eyelids fluttered until they could fully open, strained against the ache in my temples. Am I at home? Did I ever make it out of the Limo. I can't smell my cat. I can't feel my body yet. Oh, I'm fucked. I need to throw up.

Blinking away nausea until my vision cleared, I looked over to a floor to celiling window where I could see the entirety of New York City lit up and alive in that one glance. Why am I so far up off the ground?

A penthouse.

I picked my head up and exhaled until the spinning stopped, until the sound of my breathing was quiet enough to let reality set in.

"Oh, fuck... Please god... no, no, no."

You should have listening to Maeve. You shouldn't have gotten in the Limo, Riele. You just turned 23! You're supposed to be a fucking adult. A smart one. She was right and Ella was wrong! Hot guys and limos ARE too good to be true! Does this seem very responsible? And now I'm gonna die.

I sat up too quickly and my head swirled until I laid back once more, easing myself against thick throw pillows.

"Find a phone, call for help. Find a phone, call for help. Come on Riele, get up."

My cracked lips whispered into the stillness of the air. I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat and remained laid there, my limbs stiff. Why didn't I listen to Maeve? I'd be home in my own bed by now, snuggling Figaro. Sleeping off my drunken state. My hand flew to my chest where the beat of my heart had started to hammer against my ribs. Thundering so hard it hurt.

Calm down, you need to calm down. This isn't a dream. This is real. This isn't going away. Not even if you panic. So just, breathe. Think. You need to find a phone. A tablet. A laptop. Anything to reach the outside world. Find a phone. Call for help.

I inhaled a deep breath in through my nose and quietly exhaled it through my mouth until I stopped trembling. My eyes adjusted to darkness of the room little by little. The main living area was plainly decorated for a penthouse. The sofa, although soft and shielded with a dozen throw pillows was rigid and smelled new. As if it had never experienced real people before, much less laid upon. Italian arm chairs, French paintings, shelves with carefully arranged picture frames and antique crystal sculptures.

Am I the only one here? It was as quiet as the inside of a library. Void of human movement.  The only thing I could hear was my heart steadying just below my ribs.

Is he going to kill me? Please god, if he does let it be quick, I begged silently. He's gone now but, what if he comes back? What do I do? Frozen there on the sofa my body wouldn't let me move. All I could do was breathe and think until I thought my chest would explode. Somewhere behind me... the sound of a doorknob could be heard turning. My body went limp, I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing.

                                  | J A C E |

Toweling my hair dry, I slipped out of the master bedroom to check on the girl. Her body was motionless on the sofa, just as I had left it. She was the image of an angel lying daintily against the pillows. Her lipstick smudged just under her mouth. Edging closer, I picked bits of lint and hair from her bottom lip, feeling the warmth of her breath against the back of my hand. My excitement caught in my throat as I kneeled next to her. I fought against every urge in my soul to refrain from pouncing on her like a starved animal. She was defenseless feathery creature who was now mine. I leaned over her until my lips were directly next to her right ear.