Page 8 of Liberated By Sin
“Bitch nearly took my tongue. Had to teach her a lesson.”
The moment he spoke those words, the part of me that had fled from the pain crashed back to reality, awakening every cell to the agony of ruined flesh. I stifled a scream into the dampened mattress, hoping neither would notice. But brutal fingers snarled into my hair, lifting my head within inches of snapping my neck.
“Fuck. How will we explain this?”
“Easy. Get rid of her.”
He released me, and I face-planted against the hard bed and whimpered like a wounded animal. The thought of death was almost a welcome comfort as unrelenting pain raged through me. I hated to think that giving up was my only option, but there was only one way this would end, and I would rather die than become someone’s property.
“And what do you propose we tell Cain? She got away? That you killed her? None of those scenarios end well for either of us.”
“Fine,” Sasha huffed, sounding almost like a child losing their turn. “Take her to Polina. She’ll clean her up like she does the other girls.”
“No! Kill me. Please,” I plead, my voice so choked that my words were nearly unintelligible.
Sasha laughed and brought a heavy hand down on my ass. My mouth fell open with a soundless scream as I curled into myself and shuddered at the torturous shock wave.
“Put her to sleep.”
I shook my head furiously. Not again.
“No…no. Just kill me.” The sharp point of a needle jabbed into my arm, and more ragged screams and whimpers fled my lips until the sound of my voice was miles away, and I began melting into the mattress.
Harsh Russian blared through a speaker, pulling me from the depths of another fog. It was a woman this time. I didn’t need to understand the language to know she was angry.
“I was given orders not to leave her. Have someone else do it.”
Another blast of obscenities filled the space, but the noise of their argument faded into the background as I took in my surroundings. No longer on a wet mattress, they’d brought me to another location. Time and distance were lost to me. I could have been out for days and traveled across the country for all I knew.
My wounds still pulsated like living entities, but as I mentally surveyed myself, I realized I was no longer bound. My arms rested by my side beneath a thin blanket. But I remained still, refusing to alert her that I’d come to.
“Shit. I’ll be there in five.” She mumbled something under her breath before a cell phone clanged against a hard surface and ended their conversation.
Silence engulfed us as I felt her nearing my face. My heart pumped faster the closer she got, and I briefly wondered if she could hear the heavy pounding from inside my chest.
“Don’t you move,” she snapped before sliding a chair back and shuffling to her feet. The moment she was out the door, I exhaled, muscles relaxing against the cot.
My eyes flew open as much as the swelling would allow.
The room was small and dimly lit, without a single window to offer an escape, even if that meant a six-story jump to salvation. Upon lifting my head slightly off the pillow, I noticed the door cracked.
I didn’t know where the fuck I was or what awaited me on the other side, but it was my only shot. Moving my toes and feet, I tested my strength. The effects of whatever they’d injected me with still lingered, but I was able to bend at the knee and brace myself against the edge to push into a sitting position.
“Oh…fuck!” Every wound lit up and robbed my breath, forcing me to tense. Black spots danced behind my eyes as I breathed through the waves of unforgiving pain. I clamped my jaw closed and stifled a groan. “I can do this… I have to.” Blinking away tears, I huffed and rolled over, slowly at first. “That’s it,” I whispered. But between my wounds and the drugs, I overshot and couldn’t stop myself in time. Instead of falling toward the floor, it felt as if it came crashing into me like an explosion, clearing whatever oxygen I had left in my lungs.
Was it karma? Was this punishment for everything I’d done? The men I’d killed? Was I already dead and in hell? It was the only explanation—the only justification for the misery that had overtaken me.
“Get…up.” My tears mixed with the blood droplets on the floor. “Get up…goddamn it!”
You’re stronger than this.
I wasn’t weak. Never weak.
On a long pull of air, I pushed to my knees and reached for the cot.
Just a little more.
My ankles wobbled as I stood, but I used the edge to steady my body. With the pressure off my back, I felt bandages tightly wrapped around me—and a shred of gratitude for the woman. I hated to think of how much more painful my raw skin would have felt had it beenexposed and untreated.