Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited this story!
We might be a small group, but I think we're going to enjoy this wild ride!
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
xxx
My eyelids flutter. There's this woman above me, in a red bed, her body is distorted, the edges frayed. The wooden post are covered in dark liqueur with some kind of design etched into them.
Groaning, my hands clench the softness below me. My breathing hitches and my heart rate accelerates. I'm in a bed, I'm in a bed that isn't mine. Shit. Shit. Shit. What the fuck happened last night? Beer, Lauren's blinding smile and Dalton's greasy hand flashes through my brain. Did I go home with someone last night?
Oh fuck! Mike! Dear god, he's going to be so pissed. What the hell am I even going to tell him? I turn over to reach for my phone, but my body feels so heavy. Shit, I've never been so hungover in my life. Forcing my body to roll, my legs feel like lead as I try to scoot across.
The strange woman above me moves too, her limbs a tangled mess as she tries to get across the bed.
Something isn't right. This isn't right. There's this ringing in my ears, and red dots dance across my eyes. My head feels like it's filled with water. Just move. Just sit up, just do something! I try to sit up but as I raise my head my body just collapses on the bed.
The woman collapses as well.
This isn't right. This isn't right.
Little hairs on my arm raise as I look at her, really look at her. Mirrors, I'm looking at a sheet of mirrors. Holy shit. Who has their entire ceiling made out of one huge slab of mirrors? It doesn't matter, just focus. Turning my head I take in my surroundings.
Red sheets, red comforter, red walls, red pillows, even the chair in the corner is red.
Chills run down my spine, my teeth and jaw hurt. Dear god, is everything in this room red?
Apart from the bed and chair, the room is devoid of any furniture. There's a dark, wooden door to the side of room.
Goosebumps erupt down my back and I shiver. Just get up and get the fuck out of here. Don't bother looking for your phone. Forcing my exhausting limbs, I scoot my body to the edge of the bed, swinging my legs over. I just need to get the blood flowing. Tiny needle like sensations prick at my legs as I stand up, my muscles feel like jello. There's this roaring in my ears and I'm falling. A sharp pain jolts up my legs as my knees jars against the floor. The slick floor is cool against my palms. My breath quickens as I open my eyes.
The floor, endless crimson swirls rolling into each other like water. It looks like a river of blood.
It's grotesque and bizarre and strangely alluring. As I run my hands across the floor, I want roll on it, in it. Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me? Get up and get the hell out of here! I push my hands against the slick, cool floor and push. Shit, my legs won't work. Disgust rolls through me. I'll have to crawl.
Using my hands, I drag the lower end of body across the crimson floor.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
My muscles clench, my teeth grind. Where the fuck is this ticking noise coming from?
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The walls start closing in.
The little hairs stand to attention on my arms, my chest tightens. I can't breathe! I can't fucking breathe! I have to get out of this room! Move! My muscles start seizing, a stabbing pain attacks my chest. My body goes falling again, my head hits the floor with a crack.
The wall opens up, a blurry figure comes into view. A woman. She runs rushes over to me. Her eyes, wide with worry. Hands are touching me. I'm being pulled up. My legs dragging, my body moving back background as arms are wrapped around my waist.
No, no no! I have to get out of here! I just want to go home! I just want to go home!
My body falls back on the plush bed, the woman is hovering over her hands touching me again.
She's pretty, but there's this ugly scar lining the side of her face. She looks like a doll.
Her hands grab my arms, wrapping soft leather around one of them.
I thrash against her, screaming. She's tying me down, she's tying me down!
"Get off of me! Get this off of me!" I say.
My limbs are out of control. Kicking and hitting at her. My free hand grabs her throat.
Her eyes widen as her hands immediately try to claw mine off.
I'm not staying here. I am not fucking staying here.
"Who are you and why am I here?" My voice is scratchy, raw.
She just shakes her head, little gasps coming from her mouth.
I'm so tired. I just want to sleep. Focus!
I grip her neck tighter, and scream, "Where am I!"
Her mouth opens, displaying her porcelain teeth and the jagged flesh where her tongue is supposed to be.
Oh god, oh god, oh god! Her tongue! Her fucking tongue is gone! My body goes limp, my hand sliding off her throat and falling to bed lifelessly bedside me.
"This isn't right, this isn't right."
I'm muttering. Her tongue. Her cut out tongue. Mirrors, crimson floors. Green eyes. 'I'm going to kill you'. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
She's touching me softly this time, securing my arms and legs to the wooden posts. Her eyes, are red and puffy. She's crying. She grabs my tied up hand, squeezing it, before a tiny prick stabs my neck.
I'm so tired. I feel her hand in my hand. Why is she crying? She doesn't get to cry. I'm the one tied down to a bed. Her face becomes blurry, my eyelids keep fluttering. Green eyes. What is he going to do to me?
Faces blur in and out of my vision, a warm voice, his voice. He's here. In this room.
My skins flushes, rage, pure rage bubbles hotly inside me. I want to kill him. I struggle against my restraints, but I can barely move. I feel trapped inside my body. I hate this. I hate him.
Hands, different hands are caressing my face. A warm breath on my skin.
"Settle down, Pet."
His voice drips over me like honey. I hate it.
Soft lips press against my cheek.
Nausea rolls through my stomach. I'm going to be sick. Burying my face in the pillow, my fingers clench the leather straps painfully.
He chuckles lightly. Fingers grasp my chin, forcing my eyes to look at him. Green eyes. Blurry face.
He's handsome. He's crazy. Revulsion stirs uncomfortably in my gut. Handsome face. I'm going to be sick. My mouth opens. I'm screaming.
Someone will hear. Anybody! My eyes flit to the maid, all blurry now too before gazing back to him.
"Why?" I ask.
His mouth opens in a feral grin. His green eyes look absolutely predatory.
Cold sweat runs down my chest. He's insane. He's insane and she's missing her tongue. Tongue. Green eyes. My eyes flutter. Don't sleep. You can't sleep. He's going to kill you. I can't. I want to scream. Darkness creeps in at the edges. Don't sleep.
His nose skims my cheek, his breath hot on my skin. His hand wipes my hair from my face.
I shiver with his touch. The darkness creeps in further. Green eyes. Don't sleep. Don't sleep. Fingers stroking my skin, coaxing me. Don't sleep. My eyelids flutter. Don't sleep.
Darkness.
xxx
Blinding light invades my vision. Crawling. No tongue. Green eyes. Leather. Crimson. Blinking, I breathe in and pain blossoms from my chest. Everything is sore, my arms, legs and neck. I let out a groan as I shift. My legs and arms won't move. They're stuck.
My stomach feels queasy. She restrained me. I'm going to vomit.
"Here," he says, holding out a small, empty waste basket.
I heave immediately, my stomach ridding itself of its contents. Fuck. I feel like I've been run over by a truck. It's strange, I should be panicking right now. I don't feel scared, I don't feel anything.
"You have a rather nasty concussion," he says.
Every memory I have of him is blurry, so I turn and face him. He's tall, probably around 6 foot. He looks slightly muscular, though it's hard to tell due to his white button up. The angles of his face give him a softer look, which is a sharp contrast against his eyes, they're cold, devoid of any softness. He's handsome.
Revulsion sweeps through me. Handsome, insane motherfucker.
My eyes sweep the room. Handsome, crazy and good taste with decor. He probably has a decorator. Most men can hardly coordinate their tie with their shoes, let alone style their home.
I giggle. Shit. I think I'm having a meltdown again. Why am I giggling?
His eyebrow lifts. He seems amused.
Fuck. I think I've lost my shit. I can't stop giggling.
He walks to the chair, leans back with hands folded behind his head.
"Now, what is going through that pretty little head of yours Pet?"
My lip curls. I hate 'pet names.'
Giggling, "Just wondering who you interior designer is," I say.
His face is impassive as he stares at me.
My fingers twitch.
He throws back his head and laughs then abruptly stops. His eyes flash. Slowly he unfolds his hands and walks to me. His hands caress my cheek. A finger gently grazes down my face.
My breathing hitches slightly. What is he doing?
His finger sweeps across my clavicle, his eyes never leaving mine. His eyes glint.
Fuck.
His wraps his hand around my throat as he springs on top of me. His face only a breath apart from mine. His other arm snakes around my back forcing my body to arch towards him.
"You know Pet, I'm beginning to think you haven't fully grasped the situation you're in," He says.
My heart beats rapidly. Tongue, she had no tongue.
"Ah, there it is," he says against my ear.
My body is shaking. Close. He's too close. No tongue, and his tongue is in my ear. No tongue. My stomach churns.
Stop.
This is what he wants. Breathe. Stop and breathe. I feel my body relax. Turning my face I look into his eyes. Do you see?
His green eyes widen a fraction. His body, rigid, tight presses into me. His arousal digs in to my belly.
My fingers clench the leather straps tightly. My lip curls. I'm tied to the bed, I can't stop this. If he's going to rape me, there's nothing I can do, but fuck him if he thinks I'll be begging and screaming.
Leaning my face up, my forehead touching his.
"Just do it and be done with it," I say.
His eyes narrow. His hand tightens around my throat. He skims his nose down my face and settles in my ear.
"You really are something else," he whispers.
My body flushes and my skin crawls. Off. Get off of me.
He licks the shell of my ear. My body shivers.
His hand slowly extracts itself from my throat and he crawls off the bed, walking back to the chair.
Clapping his hands, "So, house rules."
Pause.
"There are none," he says.
The fuck? Surely he's not going to just let me do whatever I want?
"You look confused Pet," he says with a grin. "Let me explain. Rosalie. Please come in."
Rosalie?
The wall opens. It's the girl with no tongue. She steps inside, eyes downcast, and walks to the chair. Her dress cuts off mid-thigh. The skin on her legs look shiny, puckered, twisted and marred.
Jesus, did he pour gasoline on her and light her on fire? My eyes flit to his. Cold. Probably.
"Since you're new, I'll start with something easy," he says pulling a pocket knife from his back pocket.
My body tenses.
"It's simple really. There are no rules," he says while grabbing Rosalie's arm, pulling her towards the bed. "Only different choices, with different consequences."
Rosalie's eyes widen, her chest heaves. A grotesque noise erupts from her mouth. Her body shakes.
"So Pet, where should I cut lovely Rosy?" He says.
What. The. Flying. Fuck. My mouth won't open.
"Her arm?" He asks, running the knife down the girl's arm as she sobs. "Or maybe the thigh," he says grabbing the hem of her dress, pushing it up, running his knife along the skin.
He can't be serious. I struggle against the restraints.
"What kind of choices are those?" I say.
He laughs.
The motherfucker is actually laughing at me.
Rosalie is sobbing.
"My choices, which one is yours?" He says.
Nausea rolls in my gut. I think I might throw up. Fuck. Get your shit together Bella!
I snarl, "How about neither, you sick fuck."
He laughs heartily. Rosalie starts heaving.
My lip curls. The crying. Just stop. It's not as if it's going to solve anything.
He grabs Rosalie by the throat from behind, his hand bunching up her dress, resting on her thigh.
"Fine by me," he says smiling.
My stomach tightens. What? That can't actually be it?
The girl screams. The knife is dragging down her arm, slicing it open, like butter. Blood is pouring against her porcelain skin, spilling to the crimson floor. His other hand is forcing her head up, forcing her to look at the mirror. His lips spread across his face in an obscene way.
I break into a cold sweat. Shit, shit, shit! I lean over and vomit.
Rosalie screams again. He throws her body to the ground, pushing up her dress. The noises she makes are unnatural.
It makes my stomach hurt. This is isn't right. This isn't right. I look up in the mirror and see him hovered her. Fuck! He's not going to rape her is he?
He takes the knife and cuts open her thigh, roughly dragging it across and through her skin. Blood. It's everywhere. Crimson bed, crimson floor, crimson skin. Fuck. I vomit again.
It's eerily quiet.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
A shiver goes down my spine.
Soft sobs. Soft pants.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
That fucking noise. I'm going crazy.
"Just shut up!" I'm screaming, thrashing.
His hands are on my body, holding my down, I snap my teeth at him. His eyes, dark, and heavy lidded.
Rosalie's sobbing. Crimson everywhere. Green eyes. I'm in hell. I can't stop thrashing. Can't stop screaming. His hands wrap around me, arching my body into his, holding me in place. His fingers caressing my skin. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you.
"Consequences, Pet," he whispers. His breath hot in my ear.
I feel sick. This isn't right. This isn't right.
I'm gasping for air, writhing against him, fighting him.
"Let me go," I whisper. "Just let me go."
His nose touches mine.
"No," he says, pressing his lips gently against my forehead.
Yikes, that was intense. Things are only going to get more crazy! Please let me know what you think!