ROSE
I got it. I finally got it. A mole. But what could I do about it when I was still trapped in this stupid cell.
My stomach grumbled, and tears pricked my eyes. I had no idea how long I had been here, but it was definitely more than three days. I had also not eaten for that long.
My feet now hurt terribly, as I had not treated it, and it reeked of a smell I didn't like.
The pain was even more excruciating in the nights. It kept me awake, not that I could even comfortably sleep in the damned room.
It was almost like the souls of those tortured in this room were watching me, waiting to appear in my dreams.
The sound of footsteps suddenly reached my ears, making me jump up. I had not seen Luca since he abandoned me here.
Every slight footstep sound made me both scared and hopeful. For one, it could be that he had come to free me, or he had come to execute me.
I wondered which one my fate now. However, a figure walked past my cell and tossed me a bottle of water before disappearing.
A sigh escaped my lips. Trevor. He was obviously displeased with me for getting myself in such a situation. I wondered why he even bothered checking up on me and sending me help.
The bottIe had a note attached to it, simply staying, 'You have to get out of there. Do what you must.'
I opened the water and drank it greedily, thinking deeply.
What must I do?
*
For the first time in days, I caught a whiff of the now familiar cologne. Luca was finally here. I didn't know what to expect, but I did know that it gave me a little hope.
"Luca," I called, my voice trembling with hunger and tiredness. "Luca, I'm sorry."
He stopped at my cell, his cold eyes staring into mine for a short moment before he walked away, further into the cell. My heart broke even more.
I shuddered as I heard a man scream in pain. Obviously, he was being tortured.
I slapped my palms over my ears to drown out his heartwrenching screams, but I couldn't. It went on for what seemed like ages.
Suddenly, the door to my cells flew open, and there he was in all his glory, Luca Castillo.
He had a cruel smirk on his face as he walked into the room, his shirt and hands bloody. I shifted back continually in fright. Was he finally going to kill me?
"Please, before you kill me, I just have something to say." I mumbled weakly, barely able to hold his gaze for more than a split second.
He smirked. "Where's the fun in that?" He stated, his voice emotionless.
Wordlessly, he pulled me out of the cell and dragged me further down the torture basement.
My eyes widened as I realised he was taking me in the direction of the screams. So he was really going to kill me.
Tears rolled down my cheeks on their own accord. I didn't have the energy to fight him anyway. I limped as the pain shot up in my legs again. I knew the injury had probably gotten infected.
I was seated on a chair, hopeless and hopefully ready for whatever he wanted to do, but my eyes widened when a battered man was wheeled into the room.
"Do you remember the last time you watched me operate on someone? Do you remember how fun it was?" He whispered into my ears. I shook my head, crying already. I didn't want to watch the nightmare again. "We're going to do it again."
"Please, Luca. I don't want to see. Please, no," I begged, sobbing. "Don't make me see this."
This was even more gruesome than the last time. I screamed along with the man being tortured as he was slowly disfigured.
When Luca was done, I wanted him to just kill me so I wouldn't have to remember what I had just seen.
He cupped my tear-stricken face with his bloody hands. "What's the matter, darling? Can't handle your husband's ingenuity?"
Trembling terribly, I shrunk from his touch. His hands made me feel dirty.
"This should teach you never to push your luck again. Next time you disobey me, you just might not be so lucky."
He lifted my wounded and hurting legs, making me wince slightly. I wished my tears would just stop.
Knowing Luca, I wouldn't be surprised if he pressed the injury to make it hurt me more, so I shut my eyes in anticipation.
"This looks bad," he stated plainly, inspecting my foot. His fingers grazed it softly. "We should get it treated."
That was the last thing I heard before everywhere turned dark, and I fainted.
*
Tossing and turning, all I could see were the screams of the men who I had watched Luca torture. After what seemed like being trapped in a nightmare forever, my eyes finally flew wide opened and I let out a scream.
The brightness of the light almost blinded me. When last had I been in a place so bright?
The bed was also really soft and familiar. I sighed. I was finally back in the more comfortable prison—my room.
My feet were all bandaged up and treated, but I still felt a slight stinging pain from it. Looking at my clothes, I was mortified to see that I had been changed. Had Luca changed me?
My heart suddenly skipped a beat. The recording device! Where was it again? Had he taken it? Had he seen it?
I searched around for the dress I had worn in the cell, but it was nowhere to be found.
"No, no!" I groaned, tears rushing back to my eyes again . Why was I so unlucky?
The urge to use the bathroom pressed down on me, so I rushed in and did my business. I was shocked when I returned back to the room to meet food spread out for me on the table.
I caught sight of a maid leaving, so I shouted loudly, "Please wait!"
She paused in her tracks, obviously confused. She wasn't a familiar maid. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Please, do you know who changed my dress?" I asked in a rush.
She stared at me in confusion before shaking her head slowly. "I have no idea, ma'am."
I sighed, nodding my head. "It's fine. You can leave."
I opened the meal before me and sighed in relief. When last had it been since I had a meal? I dug into it like I was possessed, gobbling it down in less than five minutes. It was delicious.
Suddenly, I paused, feeling lightheaded. Why did I feel so strange?
I winced in pain, and a loud scream escaped my lips. I tried to ignore it when the pain hit again, but it was even more painful that I stumbled to the ground, doubled over in pain.
It was then that I caught sight of a piece of paper placed beneath my plate. It had a simple sentence.
'I hope you rot in hell, b***h.'
My face paled.