Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
She eyed the shackles, which were still attached to the headboard and footboard. She cringed at the prospect of being stuck in those again. The key was on the nightstand. She grabbed it and tucked it between the mattress and box spring. If he couldn’t find the key maybe he wouldn’t chain her again.
Kyla put her head down on the pillow, beyond exhausted. All she’d done for the past few days since being here was sleep and cry. And agonize. And fuck.
A while later she started to wonder where Tristan was. No concern for whether she was hungry or thirsty? So, this was how it’d be now? She climbed under the covers and closed her eyes and fell asleep feeling sorry for herself, almost wishing she could sleep forever. So much for not feeling like a victim.
She was startled by the sound of the door clicking shut. She was alone so he must’ve drifted off and he must’ve just left. There was cereal, fruit, and coffee on the table. She wearily trudged over to the table and ate a few bites. The coffee sucked and the food was flavourless. After three bites of cereal she pushed it away.
He entered the room as she was pushing the bowl away. He didn’t look at her and his mouth was set in a firm and angry line. He walked over to the bed and began to drag it. She looked at him quizzically. He ignored her.
Anything in his way got roughly shoved and whenever he had to shove something he muttered curse words. He dragged the huge and very heavy looking piece of furniture effortlessly and didn’t stop until it was directly beside the bathroom door, almost blocking the doorway. Then he left the room and came back with more chains. Kyla’s heart felt like it leapt into her throat.
“No.”
“Bed,” he said, meeting her eyes. His face looked hardened, cold.
She started shaking her head, “Don’t do this.” She shriveled against the window.
“I warned you. You didn’t listen.”
“Tristan.”
“Shut your mouth,” he glowered at her.
“But Tristan, I---”
“Shut the fuck up. Bed.” He pointed at the bed.
Kyla was numb.
“You wanted me to leave you alone; you get your wish. This is the bed you made, Kyla. Move. Now!”
She didn’t budge, couldn’t budge. He strode over to her and hauled her out of the chair and put her on the bed. He wasn’t exactly rough but he certainly wasn’t tender about it.
Sadness swept through her as he linked chains together and then attached them to the headboard. He didn’t look at her face. She didn’t fight. His jaw was tight and she could see the fury on his face. He only attached one of her wrists this time, the one that didn’t have the scab and bruise, and left her feet free. He stacked the extra beverages and fruit left from breakfast on a bookshelf that was within arm’s reach of the bed and walked over to the nightstand and brought her the remote control. He tossed it on the bed and then left, slamming the door. She heard a loud thunk of a lock a split second later and a loud metal crashing noise that she suspected was the gate being slammed down the hall.
She felt like she was sinking into despair. She stared into space, feeling numb, almost catatonic for what felt like and what might’ve been hours.
Eventually, as the room started to dim, the door opened and her heart sank when she realized it was both Joe and Sam. Sam had a cart with food and drinks on it. He wheeled it over beside her. Joe stood in the doorway, arms folded, a sickeningly pleased look on his face. She tried not to look at them.
“Is he finally housebreaking you, darlin’?” Joe asked. She didn’t answer. “You’ve put him in a pretty miserable mood, I gotta say.”
“Enough,” Sam grunted at him.
He scoffed and the two men left the room. She didn’t bother to even look at what was there. She wasn’t hungry.
It’d been an endless day. She quickly got tired of television. As it got even darker she wondered when he came in if he’d take the shackle off then, if it was just for when he wasn’t in the room. But it got dark and he didn’t come. She felt sick to her stomach over the whole thing and woke up probably every hour on the hour from midnight on.
Where was he? What would happen next? The carpet was still littered with shattered glass, the table filled with this morning’s breakfast dishes, and the overturned lamp was beside the bed. There was a giant hole in the wall from his fist directly beside the neglected dinner cart and it seemed like it glared at her, accusingly.
He didn’t come back that night. She felt a bit of relief.