Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Then I hear the door click, and I know she’s gone. Leaving me curled in a bloody mess on the floor.
Amy’s a vindictive bitch, and I hope one day she gets what she deserves.
SCOTT’S STANDING OVER me when I open my eyes. I want to pull the blanket up over my face and hide. Amy hasn’t been back in today after she left yesterday. The only person who came in was the old lady who helped shower me.
“You have to work today,” Scott says.
Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I wonder how I’ll handle walking, or even wearing a tight dress and heels when I can hardly breathe. Scott got me my tablets, so most days have been better than when I first arrived. Apart from when Amy visited me, that was the worst.
“I can hardly move, Scott.”
He looks down at me and shakes his head. “Someone pissed her off. She wanted to hurt that person. You were her choice.” He walks to the door then stops. “You aren’t in the arena tonight, so it doesn’t matter what you wear. Just hurry up, Cecelia is waiting for you.” Managing to stand, I stay in what I’m dressed. I haven’t been able to change the shirt because it hurts too much to lift my arms. The blood stains are still clearly visible on my shirt. My sweatpants are dirty from where her heels kicked into me. I follow Scott, but my steps are slow, each step I take is like a knife to my ribs.
Scott turns to look at me but doesn’t wait for me. When I finally catch up to him, I have my hand holding and supporting my side. He doesn’t say a word, mainly because he just doesn’t care. And, why should he? He isn’t here to look after me.
Scott opens a door, and I remember this door. It’s where I first woke, it’s the place with only a toilet. He steps out of the way, and when I look in I see a young girl, possibly my age or maybe younger. She’s curled into a ball, and I wonder if they have starved her too. I really hope for her sake they haven’t, because hunger pangs don’t just hurt from the inside. It’s a cruel punishment. I turn to look at Scott, who’s watching me for my reaction. But I have none for him. Because the last thing I want to do is end up back in this room.
“What do I do?”
He looks at the girl. “She is to be sold. The buyers are already here. You need to clean her up then you need to bring her to the Arena.” He pauses. “Do you think you can handle that?”
My hands sweat and my bottom lip quivers, but I somehow manage to bob my head.
When he walks away, I step into the cold, cement room. She doesn’t look up, and all I can see is long dark hair. I think about crouching down to touch her shoulder, but that would hurt me too much. I can hardly walk as it is. My chances of getting down on the floor then trying to get back up are slim to none.
“Hey...” I say in the most calming voice I can muster. She doesn’t move at first until I step closer again. “You should really try moving. After we clean you up we can feed you.” At least that’s what I hope.
Does she know what she’s here for?
Or why she’s been stolen like those girls from my neighborhood?
Her hand moves, brushing the hair away from her face, and I notice green eyes looking up at me. When she sees it’s not who she thought it was, she sits up, her knees to her chest.
“We need to shower you. Do you think you can move?”
She nods but doesn’t speak. I remember that feeling. It’s a feeling of total helplessness. Unsure of how to react. If you speak, you’re beaten, so it’s safer not to open my mouth.
I’ve been here now for two weeks. I haven’t seen any other girls staying where I am, this girl is the first.
We walk to the showers, and I turn it on, test it with my hand to make sure it’s warm, then indicate for her to get in. She looks around to make sure no one is here then she pulls her clothes off fast before she steps under the water.
Pulling the chair up, I sit down and look up to her. “Why are you here?” My question surprises her, she looks like she’s not sure how she should answer me. “I’m not one of them.” She looks me over, I think she can tell that I’m not one of them. For a start, I’m sporting some pretty big bruises myself. Her mouth opens like she wants to speak, but she closes it and puts her head under the water. I wait for her to tell me anything.