Page 157 of Hunter's Revenge
It feels like I’m in the basement of wherever I am, and maybe the more fitting description of this room is a dungeon. The feel of it reminds me of watching those TV shows about prisoners of the past like in Robin Hood days.
Judging from the funky smell of death emanating from the corner to my right, I think something died in here, too, or there are remnants of rotten flesh. There are also rats or some sort of vermin. I’ve heard them skuttling across the floor, nibbling and squeaking.
I try to keep moving. Alternating between sitting and standing so they don’t come near me. But I don’t know if that will continue to work and how long for.
I know wherever I am must be absolutely filthy, so I would have opted to keep standing, but I’ve been awake for what feels like several hours.
Standing was exhausting, and I woke to a sharp pain scattering through my head. Most likely from whatever drug Esperanza gave me to knock me out.
The pain hasn’t left me. Nor has it distracted my mind from going over that powerful morsel of information Esperanza gave me before I blacked out.
That it must have been her who killed my father.
I haven’t even allowed myself to think about how the hell I was so easily taken from the store with all of Malik’s guards surrounding the place. I’ve just been thinking about my father and what Esperanza did to him.
Growing up, I’ve always hated that my instincts were right. I’ve even gone against them many times to try and prove that they could be wrong. Every time, I get screwed.
Like now, although that information is screwing with me in a different way.
I feel like I should have known Esperanza had something to do with Dad’s death. But I didn’t factor her in because she loved my father. Or so we were led to believe.
Maybe she did. Maybe that was true.
Maybe he approached her with the subject of taking care of me after Mom died and she flipped out.
Whatever it was, something definitely happened to push her to do it.
Until I’m told what that was, I’m left to wonder what the hell happened.
And what could have been. Learning my father didn’t kill himself has opened my mind to all the things that could have changed for me. For us.
Dad meant what he said about taking care of me. Knowing that means so much to the little girl inside me who’s still waiting for her father to find her. To come home.
He meant it, and everything he planned for us was taken away by a cruel, evil woman who wanted to destroy us.
She’s won now because she has me.
As I’ve had no contact with anyone since waking, I don’t know who is part of this plot, but I’m sure Diego is undoubtedly in line with this.
Another bout of time passes by until I hear the shuffle of footsteps in the distance that draws closer and closer.
A soft light comes on, and I can see around me. The room is as small as I guessed it to be. But God, I was better off in the dark. This can only be described as some sort of torture chamber. I have to stifle the urge to scream.
There’s blood splashed over the gray walls which have chains hanging from them, and spikes. And in the corner where the smell is emanating from, there’s a blob of gunk dried up on the floor. A few rats and mice scatter underneath the wall. I hold my breath and my thumping heart.
The door ahead of me has a little glass window. I knew there was a door there from earlier when I tried to walk around and see how far I could move with the chains on my ankle.
A man’s face suddenly appears through it, and he smiles when he sees me looking on.
God, what is this now?
Something is happening.
I stand, not wanting to place myself in a more vulnerable position.
The door opens, and Esperanza waltzes in with two guards behind her. The scent of her perfume wafts in too when she moves closer to me, dulling the stink.
“Leave us,” she orders in that hoarse voice that reminds me of a cross between a frog and a hundred-pack-a-day smoker who’s been at it for years.