Page 2 of Possessive

"You should be grateful," he said, as though lost in thought about something specific. "After what you did, you should have had your throat cut. You know that, don't you?"

He stopped and crouched down in front of me. "Don't you?"

"Yes," I said. My throat was so dry, my voice was a hoarse whisper. The sound was strange to my ears.

I hadn't had reason to talk much for so long. I only did it answer his questions when he insisted on it. Usually 'yes' or 'no' was enough to satisfy him. He wasn't here for a conversation with me, he was here to remind himself he held the power.

Something must have happened to make him need an extra ego boost. I didn't give a shit what, only that I'd bear the brunt of it. I always did.

"Yes," Kurt echoed. "But here you are. Still alive. Because of me. Because I decided to have mercy on you."

I met his eyes for half a heartbeat before dropping my gaze again. His idea of mercy was fucked up. More than fucked up. He'd dreamt up a nightmare and I was living it.

"You're grateful to me, aren't you Mina? Because I was kind enough to let you live. Look at me." He gripped the bars of the cage and shook it. "Look at me, bitch."

I raised my gaze again and looked into his hateful face.

If he wanted gratitude, he should drive a knife through my heart. As I was dying, I'd thank him for it. But not for this. Not for this version of living. I wanted to spit at him, but my mouth was too dry. I resorted to looking back at him with cold eyes, expressionless.

His dark hair was cut close to his scalp. His stubble was as long as his hair. Brown eyes regarded me with amusement. I wanted nothing more in this world than to watch the light fade out of those eyes. For him to die slowly, painfully.

I didn't realise I'd curled my hands into fists until he looked down at them.

"You have some fight in you today, hmmm?" He raised an eyebrow.

No.

No. No. No.

He pulled a key out of his pocket and pushed it into the lock. He swung the door open and grabbed the end of the chain. He stood, dragging the chain with him.

I bit back a whimper of pain. The strap dug into my ankle as he pulled me across the floor of the cage on my ass.

The chain wrapped around one hand, he grabbed my wrist with the other and pulled me to my feet. He shoved me a handful of steps over to a basin on the side of the room.

"Wash yourself," he growled.

I grabbed hold of the side of the sink and held on to keep from falling. My legs could barely hold my weight. The chain was extended to the full extent of its length. I knew from past experience, it wasn't long enough for me to reach the door. Just the cage and the sink.

Before I could even pick up a washcloth, he grabbed the back of my hair, shoved my face under the tap and turned on the frigid water.

I struggled to breathe, but I managed to swallow a few gulps. It was fresher than what trickled down the walls. Not by much. It tasted like it passed through rusty pipes.

He pulled me back out of the water and laughed. "Refreshing enough for you? I should put in the plug, fill the sink and hold you under, but I won't. Not today." He sounded as though he was doing me a favour by letting me live.

He'd do me one if he carried out his threat and let me die. I wouldn't fight him.

He let my hair go and took a step back. "Hurry up."

I didn't want to obey him, but he gave me very few chances to get clean. I felt as though a layer of dirt coated every centimetre of my skin. If I could wash some of it away for now, it would stop being itchy and hard. For a while.

I grabbed the washcloth and wiped my face, before starting to wipe down my filthy body. I would have given almost anything for hot water and a proper shower or bath.

He snatched the washcloth from my hand and scrubbed it hard over my ass and pussy.

"That'll do." He turned off the water and tossed the cloth into the sink. From a hook on the wall, he pulled a towel and quickly ran it over me. The thin cloth was rough. Abrasive like a cheese grater on tender skin. It couldn't have been much cleaner than I was. Kurt had dried me with it several times already without taking it to wash it. It smelled sharp and musty.

Whatever the original colour was, was anyone's guess. It could have been blue, grey or maybe brown. Hell, it could have been bright pink for all I knew. Either way, it was old and worn. The kind people use on animals, rather than wasting the good, soft towels.