Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
His eyes are swollen shut, and the skin has been peeled from his back.
I can’t process what I see and stop dead in my tracks.
While I was deprived of food and light, locked in a room with only Everleigh for human contact, Vincent was tortured to within an inch of his life.
The blood in my veins turns to ice as I keep staring at my brother, who’s been physically broken.
One of us will die today.
Chapter 14
Everleigh
After the first glimpse I get of Vincent, I’m horrified out of my mind and can’t bring myself to look at him again. Spending weeks in a dark room with Alek, I’m not mentally prepared for this level of violence.
Unable to tear his eyes away from his brother, I want to reach out to Alek to comfort him. But I don’t dare, knowing it will shine a spotlight on us.
My eyes flit to Prodi, and seeing the twisted enjoyment he’s getting from Alek’s reaction, my stomach churns with bile.
Deep down, I know today will be the worst, if not the final day of our captivity.
“I’ve had some fun with Vincent while you fell in love,” Prodi taunts Alek. He lets out a chuckle, then adds, “Today, you get to choose who I torture.”
Slowly, Alek pulls his eyes away from his brother to look at Prodi. “I choose myself.”
Prodi starts to laugh as if Alek just said the funniest thing, the sound making goosebumps spread over my skin.
“Ahh…” Prodi shakes his head, “you know that’s not how it works. Choose between your girl and brother.”
The expression on Alek’s face darkens, then the words rumble from him. “I. Choose. Myself.”
Prodi stares at him for an unnervingly long minute before he nods. “Okay. I’ll play along, but you lose a body part if the girl or Vincent makes a sound or looks away. I think that’s a fair deal.”
Oh, God.
Frazzled, I struggle to stay present in the moment, my mind begging me to escape into the bliss that might come with insanity.
A guard shoves Alek forward, and in the middle of the room, he’s forced down into a kneeling position.
No. Please, God, save us!
“To make it more fun, we won’t tie you up. If you fight back, I get to pick who dies.”
My eyes are glued to Alek, and I clench my jaw shut.
Don’t make a sound.
I fist my hands at my side when the guard picks up a contraption that looks like a whip from the medieval times. There are metal spikes at the end of each leather rope.
No.No.No!
Prodi gestures for the guard to start, and when he swings his arm, the force alone makes me jump with fright. The metal spikes rip through Alek’s skin, and I quickly cover my mouth with both my hands to keep myself from screaming and vomiting.
Alek grunts, fisting his hands on his thighs while keeping his chin raised and his eyes locked on Prodi.
God, please stop this horror!
After the first one, the whipping picks up speed, and I swear my soul wails at the sight of Alek’s back being torn to shreds of skin and blood.
I want to scream for them to stop. I want to offer myself up for torture.
But I don’t dare move a muscle or make a sound, fearing Alek will lose a body part.
Fear is no longer a word I’d use to describe what I’m feeling. Neither is horror or terror.
The Bible describes hell as a place where there’s wailing and gnashing of teeth for all eternity. Who would’ve thought it’s a place on Earth.
My soul dies with each blow to Alek’s back until it feels like I’m nothing but a hollow shell. Somewhere in my mind, something snaps, and I start to zone in and out of reality.
Don’t kill him.
Please.
When the whipping stops and Alek is barely able to push himself back into a kneeling position, the last of my hope dies.
My hands drop from where they were covering my mouth, and my voice doesn’t sound like my own when I say, “Torture me.” With my eyes glued to the man I love, I utter the words I’ve feared since day one, “Kill me. Just don’t hurt him anymore.”
I’d rather die than watch the man I love being ripped to shreds.
Laughter bursts from Prodi, a triumphant expression on his face.
“No,” Alek mumbles as he struggles to lift his head.
Prodi gets up from the chair, and pulling his gun from where it’s tucked into the waistband of pants behind his back, he goes to crouch in front of Alek. “Choose who dies.”
Alek shakes his head. “Me.” He struggles to stay upright so he can look at Prodi. “I choose myself.”
I take a step forward, shaking my head. “No. Please! Don’t kill him.” Panic and desperation don’t begin to describe what I’m feeling.
Excruciating anguish.
Crushing defeat.
No. There really are no words.