Chapter 2 - The Awakening
|
When I finally opened my eyes, a heavy, rhythmic bass was pounding through the walls of my own house. The ambient lighting had been replaced by harsh, glaring spotlights. My mouth tasted like chalk and battery acid, my tongue thick and uncooperative. I tried to lift my hands to rub my aching temples, but my arms wouldn't move.
Panic spiked through my chest. My wrists were bound tightly together behind my back with heavy industrial zip ties. I shifted my weight, only to hear the chilling, metallic rattle of a thick steel chain. I looked down, my vision swimming into focus, and saw a heavy padlock securing a chain around my bare left ankle.
"Brandon?" my voice was a weak, pathetic croak, barely audible over the thumping music.
He appeared above me instantly, stepping into the blinding light. He was wearing his tailored Italian suit, holding a crystal flute of champagne. The warm, loving husband from the kitchen was gone, replaced by a stranger with cold, dead eyes.
"Happy anniversary, Emily," he said, his lips curling into a cruel smile.
May you like
Before I could process his words, he reached down, grabbed the heavy steel chain, and dragged me across the floor. My bare skin burned against the polished wood as he pulled me into our sunken living room.
My stomach dropped into a bottomless abyss. There were at least thirty people standing around us. I recognized them—business partners, socialites, people we had hosted for dinners. Some looked distinctly uncomfortable, shifting their weight and staring at the floor, but others laughed aloud. They were sipping champagne, watching me struggle on the ground as if my suffering were an exclusive piece of avant-garde entertainment.
