She had become his prey. His plaything. The one he desired the most, but someone wanted her more.
Her resilience fading, Rebecca fights to remain strong against the man trying to destroy her mind and her life. Without the solace of Eric's arms, Rebecca's will to recover from the relentless blows wanes as she begins to break.
Eric, forced to face his own choices, races to end the nightmare before the woman he loves is completely torn apart.
Just when they think the worst is over, the game and the stakes change.
Her mind heavy, her body began to awaken. Piece by piece, the pain started to pulse through her muscles. It started with the burning ache of her leg, and moved up to a spiraling throb in the small of her back, a hardness in her chest, and then blinding pain behind her eyes.
She tried to move, hearing the scraping of metal, her body trembled in resistance. Her eyes opened to faint whispering light and a pipe covered ceiling.
Her mind spun but she allowed herself to just breathe and not move. She waited for her thoughts to settle.
She got away.
Rebecca opened her eyes again, taking a deep breath of relief. Lucy managed to get away and she prayed her sister was somewhere safe. Now she just needed to keep her head straight until Eric found her, or another opportunity for escape presented itself.
She lifted herself off the hard ground and her body screamed in protest. Cold metal against her hand, she grabbed one of the surrounding pipes, using it to sit upright. The area was much smaller than the previous room, with no break of light except a single door.
Rebecca pulled her throbbing right leg beneath her and noticed an unfamiliar weight around her ankle. The scraping of metal broke through the darkness, and she reached down feeling thick rusted metal. Her eyes began to adjust to the lack of light. She focused on the area to see an ancient lead manacle beneath her hand. It was attached to a bulky chain hanging heavy on the floor. She followed it along the wall before ending at a set of large solid pipes.
She stretched out her opposite leg to examine her injury. She pulled at the fabric covering her leg, until she saw blood. It didn't look bad, a simple flesh wound. She debated whether to expend the energy to stand. Before she could decide, the door opened.
Two of Marco's thugs enter the room. They wordlessly unlocked the binding around her leg and hauled her to her feet. Once her leg was free, they yanked her forward and dragged her out of the room. They exited the basement prison and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust before she could discern where she was. An open luxury house, they led her down a hallway, shoved her into a room, and locked the door. The room was beautiful. Hardwood floors, cream painted walls, and an antique bed covered in copper hued pillows and blankets.
She moved to the windows, and discerned the seal fusing the frames and thick plexiglas. A second door led to a lush but windowless bathroom. Her hand pushed through her hair in frustration, and she moved back into the main room. She faced the bed. Its softness called to her weary body. She struggled not to lie down and let herself sink into mindless bliss.
It was then she noticed the black dress lain out on top. A pair of black stilettos on the floor.
"Get cleaned up, and put on the dress. You have an hour," she heard echo through the small room.
"Why should I?" she called back, receiving no response until the door opened. A thug entered, his gun poised against his chest.
"You have an hour," the faceless voice repeated, and she begrudgingly grabbed the dress off the bed. The thug's eyes boring into her back, she moved to the bathroom and closed the door.
Reluctantly stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower. Unable to take any enjoyment out of the heated streams of water sliding against her body, she effectively washed away the physical dirt. Her skin, however, continued to crawl the residual filth of discomfort covering her body. Without warning, the world around her went fuzzy. She planted her hands against the tile of the wall waiting for the spell to pass.
Come on Beccs, you need to pull it together. You can't lose it yet. You have to keep going.
You have to keep going.
You can do this… just breathe…
The shower allowed her to breathe, and her sight cleared. She stepped and shivered despite the warmth of the room. The dress slid over her body, but its flawlessness made her feel disjointed and foreign. She tugged at the zipper and took in her reflection. Her bruised face staring at her. She gulped back the tears threatening to fall., She acknowledged all the damage he had done and her hands shook as she fought for control.
She ached for Eric. Closing her eyes she could almost feel his arms around her, the warmth of his chest against her cheek.
He will come.
He will find me.
She heard the door of the bedroom opening and spun toward it. Marco entered, motioning her to join him. She lingered, looked at the armed guard behind him and then moved.
"Rebecca, you have to admit. I have extremely good taste." He moved around her, licking his lips, while scrutinizing her body. He moved closer and she restrained her disgust with a short breath. "Your body really does fill that dress in all the right places."
She felt him just behind her shoulder. His hand rested on the small of her back. It proceeded to shift down her hip, and then across her lower abdomen like a tentacle. He moved to face her, his eyes cold and darting. He decided to brush the inside of her leg, and she suppressed a tremble of loathing.
"It's not often a dress pales in comparison to the body it encompasses. It's too bad Detective Stiles isn't here to enjoy it with me." His breath on her neck, a chill ran up her spine, the blood draining from her cheeks. "You look so pale, sweetheart, did I hit a nerve?"
Mid-breath, she straightened her back and lowered her shoulders. His face stopped within inches of hers.
"What you did with Lucy was…brave," he taunted, staring down at her lips. "It makes me wonder about Detective Stiles' bravery in his time of trial."
"What are you boasting about now?" she asked, lining her voice with thick sarcasm, lifting her chin in defiance of him.
"Tit for Tat, Beccs." His hand rested on her hip, and he smiled. "You take something from me, and I take something from you. You didn't really think I was going to let it go…did you?"
Her heart panicked uncontrolled but she refused to take what he was saying at face value. He was taunting her, trying to get her to fight him, so he had an excuse. He was pissed at what she'd done, so he was trying to torture her.
His eyes remained focused on her lips. She turned her face away from him in disgust. Within a breath, he yanked at her hair and she felt his tongue against her now exposed neck.
"You don't believe me?" he said into her neck and she fought the rising fury sweeping through her.
Marco held a cell phone up for her to see. A picture of Eric on the ground covered in blood. His face dark, his eyes closed.
She turned away from the photograph, in an attempt to deny the panic rising in her chest. He grabbed her hair and forced her to look at the image. Despite her efforts to push it out of her mind, her body trembled when the reality hit.
"He's not coming for you Rebecca. You're all alone. No one is coming for you, and soon, you won't want them to.