Chapter 274: Broken things

Turning around, I nearly screamed from the excruciating pain splitting through my skull. It shot up my temples as though someone had driven red-hot nails straight into my head.

With great difficulty, I forced my swollen eyelids open, only to realize in horror that one of my eyes wouldn’t open at all. It was as if something had glued my eyelashes together, tearing at my skin whenever I tried to blink.

I reached for my face, belatedly realizing that I could only move one arm. Panic surged through me as I understood that my other hand was cuffed to a cold metal radiator behind my back.

Carefully running my fingers over my cheek, I encountered something stiff and crusted. Dried blood. It covered my entire face, sealing my eyelashes together on one side. My skin burned unbearably.

Clenching my teeth and struggling to breathe through the pain, I finally managed to wipe away enough of the blood to look around.

The room was dark, but my eyes, accustomed to the gloom, gradually made out the shapes surrounding me. I was lying on a narrow metal bed, its frame pushed against a concrete wall. Gathering my strength, I tried to remember what had happened.

The last thing I clearly remembered was leaving the cinema with Damian. I was making my way toward my apartment when I noticed a suspicious stranger.

Something about him had immediately put me on edge, sending a warning chill down my spine. But I’d never imagined he would attack me right there in the building hallway.

And yet, here I was.

The room I found myself in was tiny. There wasn’t even a window. Just the squeaky metal bed beneath me and a metal bucket in the opposite corner, right against the wall.

I couldn’t imagine how I was supposed to reach it with one hand chained to a radiator. Had my captor really expected me to crawl across the floor like a dog?

Damn, I needed water.

My throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. Even worse, the pain in my head had grown so intense that every slight movement sent the room spinning. I cautiously breathed in through my nose and exhaled through my mouth, trying to steady myself.

Silence.

Not a single sound. Not even the faintest movement beyond the walls.

I sat there in a daze for what felt like an eternity before a loud click at the door made my entire body tense.

An icy shiver ran down my spine. Every muscle instinctively tightened, and my hands began to tremble. Despite the unbearable cold of the room, sweat trickled down my back.

The unmistakable scent of fear filled my nostrils.

"You’re awake already. You look... terrible."

The man standing before me was the same one who had asked me for a light that night.

"How’s your head?" he asked, his voice perfectly even. There wasn’t a trace of sympathy in it, only cold indifference as his gaze traveled over my battered face.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you want from me?"

Ignoring his mocking question, I pulled my knees toward my chest. I quickly dragged the hem of my cardigan over my bare legs, trying to cover myself.

"Straight to the point. I can respect that."

With a crooked, predatory smile, the man pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and casually lit one. The small room immediately filled with acrid gray smoke. My stomach twisted, and nausea washed over me. I turned my face away, fighting the urge to gag.

"You still haven’t answered my question," I snapped, glaring at him.

"I’m not obligated to answer your questions. You’re nobody here, and you don’t even have a name worth knowing. So shut up and listen."

His voice was so cold that it sent another shiver through me. In an instant, the faint semblance of friendliness he’d worn when entering the room vanished.

The bastard. As if being knocked unconscious and dragged off like a sack of potatoes weren’t enough, now I was supposed to endure whatever twisted game he had planned for me.

But why? What had I ever done to him?

I watched tensely as he took a few steps toward the door. He bent down, then abruptly flicked something in my direction. A small bundle sailed through the air, landed with a dull thud, and rolled across the uneven concrete floor, its metal contents rattling until it disappeared beneath the bed.

"Your wounds will heal soon enough. Then you’ll be moving into your new home," he announced, stretching his thin lips into a grotesque smile.

The glowing tip of his cigarette briefly illuminated his face. His eyes were black, almost lifeless, with not a trace of warmth or humanity in them.

The man standing before me was nothing more than a ruthless piece of filth.

"Why me?" I rasped.

I needed answers. I needed to understand what the hell was happening and why, out of thousands of women, I’d been the one dragged into this nightmare. Something deep in my gut told me I had to ask.

"Someone’s made a rather generous offer for you. Don’t know what he sees in you, but you’ve caught the attention of a very... wealthy gentleman. He’s a regular customer of ours. Likes to buy all sorts of things. Mostly the ones that are broken or can’t speak."

His disgusting words made my stomach clench. My insides twisted into a hard, icy knot.

He was talking about living people. Women with disabilities, women who couldn’t defend themselves. Yet he spoke as though they were defective merchandise, objects to be bought and sold.

I wanted nothing more than to lunge at the bastard and wipe that smug expression off his face. I wanted to claw his eyes out, to make him choke on every vile word he’d uttered.

But reality crashed down on me like a concrete slab, crushing whatever hope I had left. I could barely move. Even turning my head sent waves of pain through my skull, blurring the room around me.

"Well, I’m perfectly healthy," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the tremor threatening to betray me. "Perhaps there’s been a mistake. Maybe your client has the wrong girl?"

The man froze.

For a moment, he simply stared at me, as though considering my words. Then he pulled a phone from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and made a call.

He spoke briefly, his tone clipped and businesslike, asking someone to send him something.

A connection.

There was a network here. Which meant that if I could somehow get my hands on his phone, I’d have at least a tiny chance of contacting someone.

The problem was that I had absolutely no idea where I was. Still, if there was a mobile signal, there might be internet access too. Perhaps I could enable location services and figure out my coordinates.

It wasn’t much of a plan, but right now, even the smallest possibility was worth holding on to.