“You’re taking all of this pretty well,” the woman had said, “and your story has been pretty consistent. I suppose there is the possibility that you’re telling the truth. Despite always being at her side, you just might not actually know anything where she had sent my brother.”
With the hood over my head, I had only been able to hear her boots striking the ground as she had walked away, and then someone had opened a door and slammed it closed, sliding a lock home with a clank. She had left me alone in the room, leaving me alone with the burning pains in my hands and feet.
My hands were bound to what I assumed were arm chairs, and my ankles, which were bare because someone had removed my boots and socks, where bound to the front legs. All of training had taught me what to do in this type of situation, but none of thathad proven useful. I had been unconscious when they had tied me, and the bindings were tight—so tight that I wondered how I could feel anything in my hands and feet at all.
Still, I wriggled against the bindings. Sharp pains ran through my thighs, and nothing felt as if it was loosening.
The loud boots returned, and then the door opened. There was a sudden squeak, and something struck the floor. I shivered when I heard the the boots approach me. Someone—the woman, likely—yanked on my hair as they pulled off the hood. Pain spiked in my head as a bright light assaulted my eyes, and I squeezed my eyes shut to alleviate it.
“You see, Miss Snow,” the woman said. “This man has been rather loyal to you. He hasn’t said a thing. Don’t you feel bad that he had to go through because of you?”
“Please, stop! He has nothing to do with any of this! He’s just my bodyguard!”
I snapped open my eyes, and I looked. There was a girl sitting on the ground. Her feet were bound and tucked under her, and her hands were behind her back. It was not bright enough to tell is the darker marks on her mocha-colored skin were blood, bruises, or dirt.
It was Amanda his boss and someone who he had come to think of as a sister.
The woman—a tall woman with bleached blonde hair tied into a small tail—laughed low in her throat. She reached behind me, and there was some clicking of metal on metal. Then, she dangled a set of pliers in front of my face.
“Let’s see if she’s fond enough of you,” the woman said, “to tell me what I want to know so I don’t hurt you anymore, huh?”
My breathing and heart quickened as the woman brought the pliers down to my hand strapped to my chair, and she placed the pliers around my pinkie. Pain exploded as she squeezed, and there was a sickening crunch.
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