Loving a Dangerous Life (editing)

Chapter 38 - Torture

I felt like I had gone back in time. I felt like I had never woken up from the coma. I'm back in that empty, white space. Alex had never happened, and I was still asleep.

I almost wished that was the case.

But I would be so much worse off if it was. I was beginning to realize just how much Alexander had changed me. He made me come to terms with a vulnerable side of myself that I had never wanted to exist. He made me accept that I can't simply ignore my issues and pray they go away. By making me weak, he made me stronger.

I remember a few nights after the first time we fucked. I had been so mentally overwhelmed that the only thing I could do was physically drown myself in pain. I had even forgotten to put on gloves before I started laying punch after punch on a rough black bag in the corner of Alex's gym. I knew that day that if someone had gotten in the way of my punches, they would be knocked out. At that point, I had been so utterly confused by my feelings and the new emotions, and the vulnerability. I thought that it was all a lie that my mind had fed me as punishment for what I've done, but now I'm accepting that side of myself. I'm accepting that being vulnerable is not a weakness. Letting Alex in, and trusting Alex is not a weakness, and in the end, it will only make me stronger.

But I realized all this too late. If this had occurred to me even a day ago, I might not be here right now. I might not have run away, again. I might not have been kidnapped against my will.

I'm in the same plain white room that I was put in when I was forced here, the one with absolutely nothing in it. I had scoured every inch of the damn place, looking for cracks, anything to help me get out. I had pulled at the smooth walls until my fingers bled and then punched and kicked until my knuckles and toes were bruised. I screamed until my throat could no longer make a sound. All as a futile attempt to get the hell out of here.

I sat on the hard floor, holding Alex's sweatshirt around my sore body. My phone, my weapons, hell, even my hair tie and shoes had been taken away. Even the ring of his that I wore around my neck was gone. Anything that they saw as a weapon was taken, but with how angry I was, they would have been better off chaining my wrists and ankles. I could only eternally pity any innocent person who runs into me while I am stuck here. My sadist side is in full show, and every single pent-up thought of hatred towards Ivor was beginning to make my hands tremble with exciting anger.

I couldn't wait to rearrange his pretty face. Someone as bad as him does not deserve to look anything remotely like my man

Speak of the fucking devil, Ivor comes into the room through what seems to be a fucking disappearing door, holding a small screen. I lazily met his eyes, trying to quell myself. There were four guards now in the room with us, meaning if I attacked him now, I would be restrained before I could even significantly hurt him. Ivor snapped his fingers and suddenly I was yanked up. My hair was brutally pulled back and my head forced up as hands pulled at my limbs. Ivor walked up in front of me, and my body bucked painfully against my captors.

"I believe this is your mother and father." He grinned, holding the screen up so I could see it. My heart skipped a beat, and I stared at him. I felt sick. My mom and dad were sitting in the house, and he watched them through a security camera.

They were packing. Packing.

Oh Alex, you smart man.

I turned away from him again.

"What is all this for, huh?" I demanded, my words terse and choppy from the pain in my body. I didn't receive an answer.

"You're going to do a favor for me." He said. I scoffed.

"Like hell, I will," I spat. The guard's grip tightened on me but I thrashed. I knew that no matter what it was, I wouldn't do it. Suddenly, pain flared across my face, and my head savagely twisted to the side. I just moved my head back to glare at him again. "That all you got?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. Ivor chuckled.