37; Kidnapped

Freya’s POV.

The sensation of being knocked through your own mind is about as unsettling as you’d imagine. I simultaneously felt as though I’d been kicked in the balls and tossed onto a roller coaster upside down without a seatbelt. I had to close my eyes against the swirl of imagery I couldn’t make heads or tails of.

My ears rang as the volume around me rose in a deafening crescendo of white noise until everything suddenly stopped and the familiar scent of a strong muscular scent engulfed me.

It was like I was back in my room at the foster care and it was confusing since it had been a while since I had been here or I was no longer here at all. But everything looked the same and smell the same. The familiarity holding me in a chokehold.

I and Celine have decided at 18, we had had enough of Not a life choice I’d recommend, but we do what we have to do. It was a great place for kids but not so much for a growing teen. From a pedophile's disgusted as a parent to adopt you and use it for his benefit to the explosion of bad things from kids.

“Where am I?”My voice echoed in the dark, but I sure as fuck hadn’t spoken.

As my eyes adjusted to the light in the room, a sinking feeling took hold in my gut. It wasn’t like being back. I was back. The stake of books on the bedside table I had borrowed from a short-distance library from the school I had attended. To my collection of animated stickers we were being gifted if we did a good deed pastured on the wall, then my white linen bed sheet without so much as a blanket to shield me away from the cold.

Behind the complex. If there was more light coming in through the holes in the ceiling and a picture of me and Celine at a fair. A happy me and a carefree Celine. It was my favorite

“Gabriel” I yelled.

This time I could feel my mouth open and close, along with the curiosity and faint tendril of panic that accompanied the shout.

“I have told you countless times not to play with that knife, don’t tell me you are about to cut your wrist again”

I knew what was going to happen next. I’d tug on the robe that bonded me to the chair. It was like reliving this moment. No one was going to come for me and he was going to harm himself again “Don’t do this riel. Drop the knife and tell me why you are sad” I said urgency laced in my voice.

But he didn’t listen to me, I was not there just locked in the memory that had scared me. He brought the knife to his wrist as I cried, I didn’t know if the tears were flowing but I could hear the sound of my screams vibrating in my ears. That was it he had cut himself. The blood was staining my brown carpet making it look like it was soaked with water.

“At least tie something to it” I pleaded hoping he would at least listen to me. He didn’t he let the blood flow down. I was afraid in his stead.

he didn’t answer. He wouldn’t. He would let his blood waste just because he was angry. this was me that was trapped inside my own head was screaming for us to get out of this mess. To escape before it was too late. Fuck, I hated being a captive in my mind.

I’d replayed this memory often, usually in my nightmares. This was the moment that changed everything for me. The reason I had begged Celine to run away with me, away from the place I had almost lost a brother because I was too afraid to call anyone. I wanted to leave this memory before I was once again scared from the memory.

I knew what was coming before the door even opened.

“Celine, it is about fucking time. Don’t you know you should check on me every time and please get your drunk ass away from my room” I laughed, I was experiencing a spiral of emotion clogging my head.

“I’ll be sure to tell her that.” The cool voice of a man who was definitely not Celine filled my head.

A chill ran down my spine. I was lucky to be alive after my smart mouth continued to get the better of me. I knew that now as I watched this play out again.

“Did she send you here to give me food 'cause I am starving?” He did in no way look like a human more like the demon they told us about in fairytales—red horns, flowing body, and many eyes.

he wasn’t that old, not really. Somewhere in his twenties, maybe, but I couldn’t really tell and I was trying hard not to show how fucking scared I was. Being tied to a chair almost naked was what every woman would hope for . . . until a stranger walked into the room and she was at their mercy. Then it was just scary as hell. Trust me. I’d lived it.

“The only good you wouldn’t be getting is your skin after I peel it off,” he said.

“Jeez, you don’t have to be so mean about it.”

I really needed to stop taking and also Stop poking the vengeful spirit.

he smiled, her eyes filled with wicked glee, like he was going to relish whatever she had planned. “Hold still. This might pinch a little.”

“Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?”

One hand pressed flat to my tummy, he dug his nails into the skin over my abdomen and began murmuring—no, chanting—in a language I didn’t know. The words were lyrical. Ancient. And with each one, something in me tightened until it felt like I was going to break.

I fought the urge to scream until I couldn’t keep it in anymore as what seemed like ants crawled through my veins. Stinging started on the top of my hand, though I felt it everywhere.

I was on fire. Burning from the inside out.

I was dying. I had to be dying.

Fuck, I was too pretty to die. And I hadn’t told Oliver I loved him.

Then the scent of sulfur hit my nostrils. God, was I having a stroke?

No, that was toast.

He released me and smirked down at my panting, sweaty form.

“Is that . . . all . . . you’ve got? Can’t even . . . finish the job? Someone call The Dojo. Your ninja assassin card should be revoked.” I was going to puke. Any second. “Not much of a demon are you?”

“Oh, the job is finished.” She laughed, and my head felt light as I teleported into another memory.