Hey beautiful readers! It's been a long time, I know. I'm sorry I've left you hanging for so long, but a few things over the past year have kept me from writing. This story is not a continuation of AYDF and EFY, although it does use the same pairing. It's been in my head for a few months now and it finally felt like the right time to write it. It's a little different to my other stories, but I truly hope you like it. Lots of love to you all xx.
PROLOGUE
The girl counts her breaths.
One.
She lies on a bed in the centre of a dark room. A white sheet covers her naked body, cocooning her figure in a layer of heat. A drop of sweat slides down her forehead and behind her ear.
Two.
Iron bracelets encircle her wrists and bind her to the railings which hem her bed. An I.V. line emerges from beneath the sheet and attaches to an unlabeled bag on the pole beside her. The bag is almost empty; most of the clear fluid now flows inside her. He'll come soon.
Three.
Two guards watch her from several metres away. She doesn't look at them. She couldn't even if she wanted to. She can smell them though. Their scents burn the back of her throat as she breathes in.
Four.
Her chest rises and falls slowly; there's something peaceful in the way that she breathes. Her body, calm and still, veils the tumultuous thoughts inside. She wants to thrash and scream. Her breaths should be short and ragged. It is not enough that she is kept here. Even her body, the paralysed muscles which keep her mind prisoner, has betrayed her.
Five.
A door opens to her right and she stops counting. She knows what will happen next. His visits are the only constant in her life.
"You may leave." His voice is pure, untainted by accent or inflection.
The girl's heart begins to beat painfully against her chest, its rhythm sharp and even. The drugs don't stop this. Her heart is left untouched by their poison. Another drop of sweat finds its way into her left eye and she blinks. She fears him and she hates him for it.
The guards leave at his instruction. Their scents remain, but his overwhelms them both. His scent is cleaner, more potent. His steps are quiet as he moves toward the girl, slowly like he doesn't want to scare her. Her eyes move to look at him as he draws nearer. He is tall and lean and wears nondescript black trousers with a white shirt. His skin is pale though its bronzed tone is not dissimilar to her own. His hair falls in dark waves around his eyes, trained carefully on her. She swallows. His irises, crimson at the edges, darken to a cold black pupil.
He stands now at her bedside. Effortlessly, while she watches, he replaces her I.V. bag and the new drugs begin to flow through her veins. She tries to clench her fists, to wiggle her toes, but her attempts are futile. His eyebrows pull together as he cocks his head to the side and stares at her. For a moment the girl thinks that he is going to speak, but instead he presses his lips together and pulls a needle and syringe from his pocket. She knows it's there, but she doesn't see the small glass vial until he holds it upside down and draws the liquid inside into the syringe.
She is unable to flinch as he reaches down and draws one side of the sheet away from her bare body. His eyes don't travel over her figure the way other men's would. He remains focused on his task, cleaning the skin around her belly and then injecting the contents of the vial into her abdominal tissue. She barely feels the prick of the needle. She hates him, this man who violates her each night with his syringe and composure.
One day, I will kill you, she promises him. She cannot say the words aloud, but he sees them in her eyes.
He's watching her, his face just a few feet above her own. His smooth forehead, his strong nose, his square jawline… they betray no emotion. His face is expressionless and beautiful. The girl spits at him. The drugs are working though, and the saliva only dribbles across her chin. He sighs and uses the corner of her sheet to wipe the spit from her face. His fingers brush her skin, cold and imposing.
"I have a new video for you tonight," he murmurs, withdrawing his hand. He reaches behind the bed and adjusts the frame to sit the girl up.
She faces a screen now, fixed to the far wall. Moments later, a picture lights the monitor. A young woman stares back at her. Her eyes are large and framed by thick black lashes. High cheekbones and full lips are made prominent by her makeup. The girl's eyes trace the woman's dark shoulder-length hair. The woman is familiar. She's in every video that he shows her. The woman gives the camera a small smile and then turns away.
The girl doesn't want to watch what comes next. "Why?" she tries to ask her captor, but all she can manage is a small animal-like groan. Why do you show me these?
He understands her question though because his next words send chills across her skin. "Because," he says, "that woman in the videos, Leah, will one day be you."