Mave awoke with a jolt. She wasn't sure what made her suddenly sit up, but whatever it was, it wasn't a typical sound. Not that there were any normal sounds in the current hell in which she was living.
As her body tensed, every wound screamed at her, reminding her of the torture she had endured for the last...she didn't know how long she had endured it. She let out a muffled sob. Had she been in this dark hell hole for a day, a week, a month? There was no sense of time because there was no light. She had been in the dark, where she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face.
The only light she had seen was when She had visited. She called herself Angel. However, she was anything but that unless she was the angel of death.
Mave tried to force her tense muscles to relax and tried to control her breathing. She would need to save her energy for when Angel returned because she knew Angel would have some new torture for her to endure.
Reaching up, Mave felt the scab on her face that ran from her left temple to her jaw; she knew it would leave a nasty scar that no amount of surgery would ever correct.
Angel was a fan of knives, and she had cut Mave on her arms, legs, chest, and stomach, and her back was so severely hurt that she couldn't lay on it. All she wanted to do was curl up, go to sleep, and never wake up again.
Then Mave heard it, the sound that must have awakened her.
It was the song.
Angel always sang the same song that Mave knew well from her childhood. It was Eurythmics, 'Sweet Dreams'.
Angel liked to take her time and sing it as if she was caressing the lyrics as she joined Mave.
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree
I travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
The light suddenly turned on, and Mave shielded her eyes from the brightness.
Angel was carrying a tray of food. Once she reached Mave's side, she hooked the chair next to the bed with her foot and dragged it toward her so she could sit. She placed the tray at the end of the bed where Mave was curled up on in the fetal position.
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
Angel watched Mave as she sang, tucking a lock of hair behind Mave's ear as if she were cherished. Mave flinched, and Angel's jaw tensed in displeasure and an eerie silence filled the dim room when she finished singing the chorus.
"You need to eat, dear Mave. We must keep you healthy," Angel said as her long black hair brushed Mave's leg when she took a napkin and laid it across Mave's lap as if she were in the finest restaurant. "It's nothing fancy, just some bacon and eggs."
Mave jumped at the brief contact, expecting the worst.
When nothing happened, Mave looked at the food tray, noting that it was the same as it always was: bacon and eggs. The eggs were runny, and the bacon was barely cooked, but she learned to choke it down the first day. Also on the tray was a large metal water bottle that Angel would fill once daily for Mave. She only got to eat every other day, but she had water every day.
Mave sat up, the metal cuff around her ankle rattling as she adjusted her body, pulling her shredded shirt tight around her, leaning over the tray, not daring to look at Angel. Mave knew what she looked like. Angel was in her mid to late twenties. She had defined cheekbones, a sharp nose, and a cleft in her square jaw. She was not attractive. At some point in her young life, Angel had suffered terrible acne, and scars covered her cheeks.
Hold your head up, keep your head up, movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on, keep your head up movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on, keep your head up movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on, keep your head up movin' on
Angel sang, rocking her chair onto its back legs as she watched Mave shovel the food in her mouth as fast as she could. The eggs were cold and the bacon greasy, but she didn't stop.
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree
I travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Angel kept singing, which was a different type of torture.
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
Angel stopped singing abruptly and dropped her chair with a thump then she stood and snatched the unfinished food from Mave.
"I'll be gone for the next few days. I trust you'll behave yourself." Angel dumped the water bottle on Mave's lap as she kicked the chair away from the bed. "You'll have to make this last." Then she picked up the tray, climbed the stairs, turned off the light, and slammed the door.
Mave felt the first stirrings of hope. She had two days to escape.
She thought of her family and closed her eyes as an image of her grandmother floated up in front of her.
"It's almost over. Soon," the image said before floating away.
Mave choked back another sob as she lay down and thought of Sam. He wouldn't want her now. No one would. Mave reached up and traced the scar on her face.
Even if she survived this, her life as she knew it was over.
***Please remember that I try to post every night around 10 PM EST.
YOU ARE READING
Only You (Stevens Book 12)
RomanceMave Stevens has lived a dream life as a famous actress in a famous family, but she never thought fame would put her in danger. Having survived being kidnapped and held hostage, she is just starting to put her life back together, and she knows what...
