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Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Her face was pressed to the floor, her mouth open, trying to suck in oxygen. Naomi craved air to make her feel alive again – fresh, pure air – but the thin trickle that snuck apologetically into their cell was sickeningly insufficient, leaving her feeling helpless and suffocated. But her anguish, her suffering, was nothing compared to that of the poor girl lying next to her.

Mia hadn't said a word since her return. The doors had been flung open and the broken teenager tossed unceremoniously onto the floor by her attacker, before their captor snapped on her chain once more, departing as abruptly as he'd arrived. Naomi had been expecting tears and torment, readying herself to provide whatever solace she could, despite being hopelessly out of her depth. But her friend made no sound, save for the staccato hacking of her tortured cough, neither crying, nor moaning, just lying stock-still.

‘Mia? Are you OK? Mia, please talk to me …'

Her heartfelt enquiries had elicited no response. It was as if the teenager was made of stone, petrified by her experiences. She didn't move, she didn't moan, she simply lay there motionless. As the minutes crept by, as the gloom seemed to deepen, Naomi's anguish grew. What had happened to her? And would she ever recover?

Stricken, scared, Naomi had reached out to Mia, her fingers seeking out the injured girl's hand. At first, Mia had flinched violently, making a startled Naomi jump, but then, realizing she was safe, Mia had grasped Naomi's outstretched hand, clinging to her as if her life depended on it. And so they had stayed all night, locked in shared misery, keeping each other warm, keeping each other sane.

Slowly the night had crept by, a dull light starting to penetrate their tiny cell. Maintaining her grip on Mia's hand, Naomi had instinctively slithered towards the light, like a flower opening up in the morning, desperate for some sustenance, some hope. This was the rhythm of her life now, insufficient but necessary, the sunlight reminding her that out there, life went on, that people were perhaps looking for her, that she might yet be rescued.

Closing her eyes, Naomi felt a cool breeze sweep over her, a sudden rush of air that was as refreshing as it was enlivening. For a moment, she afforded herself a smile, a moment's release, but then she realized what had caused this unexpected draft. The door to the basement had opened and their captor was approaching. Mia must have heard it too for she instantly relinquished her grip on Naomi's hand, hurrying back to her corner. Naomi did likewise, only just making it back to the cold comfort of her water pipe, before the wall parted and their abductor appeared.

For a moment, Naomi held her breath, but Mia's attacker barely looked at her, hurrying across the room to her companion. Grabbing her long ponytail, he held Mia's face up for inspection, checking for a spark of life in her eyes, before dropping her to the ground once more. Then, placing a bowl of porridge and a bottle of water on the floor, he turned to face Naomi. Instantly, she pressed her back to the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her abductor watched on, amused rather than angered, then walked over to Naomi, placing her breakfast on the floor. Naomi didn't move a muscle, staring at him angrily, ready and willing to defend herself. Her fury, her tension, seemed to entertain him, however, for he now crouched down on his haunches, so that the pair of them were at eye level. Still she stared at him, her pupils wide, her heart pounding, which only seemed to encourage him further. Leaning forward, he gestured at the congealed porridge, whispering coarsely, ‘Don't be shy. You need to keep your strength up …'

His eyes locked onto hers, as he concluded:

‘It's your turn next.'

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