“I think you broke my foot. So no,” I said. As he drove, I made
the decision that I would fight for my life. But, I needed to give James a
false sense of my weakness. My foot wasn’t broken. Severely sprained, but not
broken. James grumbled as he stomped to the other side of the car. He hefted me
over his shoulder and walked me to the shack. Inside, he flopped me on a
rinky-dink bed. He uncuffed my wrists and pushed me onto the bed, cuffing my
one wrist to the bed frame. Using another pair of cuffs, he cuffed my other
wrist in a similar fashion. James gave me a parting glare as he left the shack
to get the food.
Once he left, I looked around the cabin. It was one huge room with
a basic kitchen and the bed that I was currently laying in. Other than the main
door, there was one other door that led out the back way by the kitchen. I
wiggled my hands and felt that the bed frame was fairly loose.
James came stomping back into the cabin and put the food on the
kitchen table. He popped open a beer and lit up a cigarette. “This will be
nice, Isabella. We can reconnect. I’ll help you remember the wonders of me. We
always had such fun in bed, baby. My little slut. You loved it rough.”
I kept my mouth shut and stared at a water stain on the ceiling.
James didn’t care for my silence and he jumped on top of me, pinning me to the
bed. He pulled up my dress and put out his cigarette on my stomach. “Fuck!” I
screeched.
James glowered at me and removed my cuffs. He pushed me on the
ground and cuffed my hands around the bottom part of the bed frame. “Fucking
bitch. Stop whimpering. I’m trying to sleep,” he snarled as he rolled over on
the bed, leaving me on the ground.
He is so sick in the head..
ReplyDeletehmmmmm. Bastard. And I'm sure this was only the mild portion of the chapter...
ReplyDelete