*FEATURED PREVIOUSLY ON WATTPAD PICKS* In a time far off in the future, there are no lands, nor countries, nor strife. Cities hover in the sky. Robots are on every street corner. And life in the great metropolis of New Ramona thrives under the leade...
A/N: As you read, please leave comments and vote (★)if you can! Fleeter needs your help to be seen and read by others. Thank you ~
EVE
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
The hours melted away slowly, drop by drop. The tense silence in the cellar room ripened until Eve could almost smell the worry and fear in the air. She swallowed, and licked her lips every few seconds. Her mouth was already dry and her saliva had started pooling at the back of her throat from hunger. Shouldn't they at least give her a glass of water? She could die at this rate.
But Eve knew that the occupants of this ship wouldn't hesitate to kill her. They were probably counting on it. Eve shivered. For young women, like herself, there were some fates worse than death. She had noticed earlier how Scarface had stared at her. Almost a hungry look, predatory even. It terrified her.
Eve subconsciously reached up to touch her necklace for comfort. But no circlet met her hand. She lifted the collar of her shirt to make sure... still nothing. The necklace was gone.
She tugged at the collar of her shirt, ripping it apart, frantically searching for the chain and pendant. It had to be here; otherwise running away from home, risking her life, abandoning her family-it would all be for nothing. The necklace was the only clue she had. It had to be here. She just wasn't looking hard enough. It had to be here.
Eve's lungs burned. She was breathing in short gasps now. There wasn't enough air in this small room. She threw herself at the cellar door and banged her fist against it with all her remaining strength.
"Let me out! Please...please let me out!
I'll tell you anything.
Please. Oh god, please. Please, please. Just let me out."
She heard footsteps running. Someone was coming to rescue her. They stopped in front of the door and delivered a punch to the other side, knocking her to the ground. "Shut up or I'll come in there and carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey!"
Eve could hear the footsteps recede into the distance. The floor was ice. She felt the cold creep into her body and drain her. It snatched away her happy memories, the essence of her life. She could hear her heart hammering in her chest, still working hard around the clock to distribute blood. She wished she could tell it to stop. Just take a time-out. It didn't matter anymore, Eve was already as good as dead.
She stared at the cement floor. The perfect nothingness of gray was spoiled by a few red smears. Fascinating. She prodded the cut on her cheek experimentally with a finger. The blood oozed out angrily and dripped on the floor.
Eve suddenly wished she'd brought her paints and canvas to paint the scene. It was a masterpiece of art-dark, but beautiful. A streak of red surrounded by walls of gray. The perfect capture of despair, gloom, and misery. The gallery owners and critics back home would be frothing at the mouth.
