Reduced to Ruin

Chapter 11

I awoke to clanking in the kitchen. I hadn't thought to close the bedroom door. The clock read 7:41. Eight o'clock was soon approaching, the ax being raised.

James was in the kitchen, cleaning up my dinner from the night before. I rolled back over and closed my eyes.

"It's almost eight, Corrine," he yelled. "Up and at 'em."

His voice was blending into my subconscious. Next thing I remembered he was sitting on my bed and shaking me.

"Corrine, let's go. It's time to get up."

I didn't budge.

"Are you tired?"

I didn't answer.

"OK, then, I'll take that as defiance. I assume you don't want to work out with me today?"

"No shit, Sherlock," I mumbled into the covers, half hoping he heard me. I pulled the comforter over my head. He didn't say anything for a few moments. Probably weighing his options.

"Corrine, look at me." He pulled down the comforter and pushed my shoulder down, forcing me to look at him.

"Tyler and Dan keep reminding me there is always an adjustment period, but you're treading on some pretty thin ice here."

I wondered what experience Tyler and Dan had in all of this anyway. Did they kidnap their own little dolls, too?

"And I don't think you want to go down that road. You have two choices here—you can either work out willingly, or I can make you work out. But either way, you will work out."

"You can't make me work out, James," I said, snottily.

"Would you like to find out?" He stared me down.

I scooted over to the other side of the bed, pulling the covers over my head once again.

He got up, pulled down my covers, and said, "Have it the hard way."

He picked me up in one scoop, like I was as light as air. He was much stronger than I gave him credit for. More like Dan was when he tore me off the wall.

"Let go of me!" I wriggled in his arms and managed to swing one leg free. I pushed against his chest and touched the ground with both legs. He had a good hold on my arms now and wouldn't let go.

"Ow! I said let go!" I tried to knee him in the groin, but unlike Tyler, James was able to block my kick. In return, he gave me a powerful punch to my gut, so strong I buckled over in pain. It knocked the wind out of me. Even with such force, I had a feeling he was holding back.

I fell to my knees, gasping for breath. After a few seconds, he pulled me up by my arms as choking sounds came out of my mouth.

"You just had to go there, didn't you, Corrine?"

He sounded more inconvenienced than angry. He dragged me by the arm out to the family room where the equipment was as I gasped for breath.

"Help!" I managed to muster. "Can't . . . breathe." Tears were streaming down my face, and I thought I was going to die right then and there.

"Lift up your arms," he instructed, but he did it for me. "Try to take deep breaths."

He gave me a few minutes to regain my composure. Slowly the oxygen pulsed through me, and I was able to breathe more easily. But my stomach felt like a bowling ball was in it.