Survival ( Book 2: Stronger Series )

4. Introductions

The second I heard the door to my bedroom close, I collapsed on the floor. For the first time in days, I was finally alone. I sat against the wall and pulled my knees to my chest, clutching my legs tightly as though they would fly away if I didn't. I felt the shakes coming on as the panic I had buried deep under my rationality finally clawed its way back up. I lost my breath in the wake of the aftermath of what I had been holding back for so long, and all it took was a singular moment of clarity to come along and shatter me.

I had been sold.

Me—a human being capable of love, compassion, and kindness had been sold like a prized dog breed. What was worse was that a man who was capable of none of the above had been the one to purchase me. And it terrified me. I now officially belonged to someone, and I didn't even know his name.

I glanced up from my dirty and dry knees to find a glimmer of my reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. I didn't know if I had the guts to look at myself and what I had become, but I decided I wanted to remember every horrible thing this man did to me so when the day finally came that I brought him to his knees, I would remember exactly why.

Not having the strength to stand, I crawled my shaky body over to the mirror, the sight of my reflection becoming worse and worse with every move. When it was clear and unmistakable, I nearly broke down all over again. It took everything I had to look and face the ghost of the girl who peered at me from the mirror. There were so many bruises; I thought I looked like a damn Dalmatian. They were everywhere. My face, my throat, my hands and knuckles, my arms and legs, but the most prominent was the long shoe-shaped one that stretched across my entire chest. It was healing, but far too slowly for my liking.

I had lost a lot of muscle tone since my time in that cage, and I thought I looked far too skinny and sickly. Purple bags hung under my eyes from stress and lack of sleep, and my skin was pasty as fuck and paler than usual. My hair was a tangled mess and the red "dress" I had been given was already ripped at the side. How did this guy even find me attractive? I looked and felt like total shit.

I hated looking like this; it was the image of weakness and vulnerability. I preferred to look strong and healthy, and I was definitely lacking, but I vowed I would return to my superior physical state and then some as soon as I was able.

The new diamond studded silver rings that adorned my wrists and ankles glistened under the lighting of the room, and I became instantly angered by their presence on my body. They were honestly beautiful; like jewelry, if I didn't know any better. I fiddled with them for a second before realizing no matter how much I wanted them off, they would still remain. But what hurt my pride the most was the collar resting around my neck. The true sign I really was a prisoner. But it would not be for long. This was only temporary.

Fighting the strain of my body, I stood and slowly padded over to my new bathroom, completely unimpressed with the lush beauty of the all-white marble and bright natural light. What really caught my attention was the giant Jacuzzi tub nestled in front of a large bay window. It held a perfect view of the ocean at the back of the house, the shore beckoning me to swim away with the tide. I stared out the window and took in as much of the scenery as I could. Though the scene was picture perfect, I hoped to God I wasn't on some estranged island.

I walked away from the window, noting I would have to take advantage of that tub another time. I headed to the large shower in the corner, which sported three showerheads and even a small seating area. I turned the shower on and continued to explore the bathroom as I waited for the water to heat up. I wanted it scalding.

Looking in the drawers and cabinets, I discovered thousands of dollars' worth of designer makeup, hair products, and styling tools. It was a girl's ultimate fantasy. Luckily for him, I actually knew how to use all of this. My mother had been a cosmetologist all her life, and I didn't escape my childhood without knowing a few tricks on how to make myself look pretty. I just never indulged in it much.