Guilty In Love ✔

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

Quote of the day : Sell not your mind. Retrace your steps, the way they lead burns like hell, but your path is paradise.

Ashley!

Ashley!

That was all Greg could think of as he woke up from the state he was in. He was forcefully hit by a strong smell, a very bad one at that. He felt lightheaded, and dizzy, it was like he was high on some drug or something. He felt what was underneath him, it seemed like he was on a bed, a hard one, he was laid face up. He opened his eyes slowly to assess his surroundings, what he came across first was a dirty white ceiling. He remembered clearly what had happened, he had been tricked by Ashley's father. He need no pointer to know that he was her father, the signs were there.

Greg turned his head to the side slowly, what he saw immediately jerked him up. He sat up hurriedly and made to stand up but was forced back down. He turned sideways to stare at his left arm that was handcuffed to the side of the single bed he was sitting on. He felt helpless, and hopeless. He had wanted to keep her safe, but he had failed woefully. He hadn't even been able to stop himself from getting abducted, so how could be save her.

He turned back to face Ashley slowly, he felt anger boiling inside him as he looked at the state she was in. She was laid on her right side, her arms were tied at her back by the elbow, with a chain. He could tell how uncomfortable and painful that would be for her broken wrist. Her ankles were also tied together, the floor she was lying on was definitely hard on her skin and she was putting on a damn sleeveless gown, but she looked like she was sleeping, or not, he couldn't tell because he couldn't see her face.

Then he turned to face the bed he was sitting on, he hadn't being tied, there was no restraint on him except the handcuff on his left hand. He had also been placed on a bed, his black suit and grey tie was resting on the bed. It was almost like the stupid man took great care to make him comfortable in his discomfort, while he made his own daughter feel nothing but abject misery. What sort of a father was that. He was a true definition of a psychopath.

Greg slowly turned to the other disturbing sight in the room, he hadn't paid so much attention to it because he had been concerned about Ashley. He stared in horror at the corpse, the person was a man in a white cloak, definitely a priest. The cloak was blood red, stained with dried blood definitely his own, now there was a reason for the odour in the room. He looked at the face of the man, trying as much as possible to ignore the obvious slash in his neck, that must have been how he died. He looked at the man face and found himself stifling a gasp of pain. It was Father Samuel, the priest of the church. He had thought maybe he had been transferred when he first saw Ashley's father, but he never would have guessed that the psychopath killed him.

How could anyone be so heartless to the point of killing a man of God. Seeing the body of the priest brought back certain unpleasant memories he would like to forget, he had never been the one to take death lightly, his mother's death was proof enough of that.

His attention was drawn back to Ashley, when he heard her cough, he looked at her as she wriggled on the floor, trying to find a suitable position for herself. Her wrist must be killing her.

"Ashley," he called out her name.

"Greg..." Greg said, moving about on the floor trying to face him. He felt his helplessness go deeper as he couldn't get up to go to help her, never had he felt so helpless before.