3. Ava

3

AVA

Goosebumps pebble along my skin and I try to curl my legs toward my core. Straps rub against my bare skin. I open my eyes, confused. Dried blood is everywhere. And straps. I'm covered in dried blood and straps. My head spins and aches. I know I should be worried about the blood, but my mouth feels like I've swallowed a cotton ball.

"Cal?" I call out. I don't know why I say it. I don't know anyone named Cal. But the name feels nice in my mouth, so I say it again. "Cal?" My voice is hoarse, but the name still sounds so nice. I'm thinking about the sound when I remember.

I remember him. The 6'3" Greek god of a man who watched me, hunted me down, hurt me, and loved me. I remember the other man, the wide-eyed one, who took me.

"Cal?" I ask again, tears welling in my throat. I imagine him bursting through one of these doors and cutting me free from my restraints. He'd kill the wide-eyed man, making sure he never touched me again. A moment later the door opens. For a moment, I think Cal's actually come for me.

The wide-eyed man holds a mug as he prowls toward me. I thrash on the bed, never looking away from him.

"Good morning, Ava. Did you sleep well?" His voice is smooth and deceptively kind. I gnash my teeth and attempt to draw my legs together, feeling horribly exposed on this table. My movement only pulls his attention to my private area. Nausea twists at my empty stomach as he studies me, but a moment later he turns his back to me.

I'm briefly relieved until he turns around again, this time holding another needle. I suddenly remember him and these needles. This isn't the first time I've felt this, and even as I try to fight it, a part of me is glad. No matter what he does to me, if it's while I'm asleep, I have a chance of getting through it.