Forbidden

Chapter sixty-five

Where should I go like this?

Just because I have a feeling that it was probably somewhere I was better off without knowing I didn't want to think about it so I focus on my surroundings which were so lifeless as I felt too.

I was so scared and anxious when I finally have the guts to get out and face what was to come. I stride back to the old lady, too afraid to ask questions, to protest, to hold a conversation with her even. My instinct was going rampant, my knees shaking badly when I take a seat again, the more I push thoughts back the more they want to cave me by crawling back and make me lose it.

The lady quickly begins to apply make up on my face as I try to keep as still as possible, my hands were sweating and I felt warm which wasn't a good sign. I was starving and my lips felt chapped as I was deprived water. I never took notice just how much I like to eat or drink, but once it's taken away from you, you value simple things.

A thought ticked in my head...I had no idea how many days or possibly just minutes passed after I was whipped, by the scars that are still fresh I knew it must have been just a day passing after my punishment... but why was I forced to get dressed and have someone put make up on me?

This didn't feel right at all. And I'm not fine either. I want someone to tell me this is just a dream and wake me up.

I want him to wake me up or save me and take care of me in a way only he knows.

//

My lashes were voluminous and dark from the multiple layers of mascara, water line colored in black, my eyes appeared more big as a cat winged liner complimented my eyelids, lips a clear shade of muted pink.

"I hate this." I muttered to myself as I twisted around in front of the mirror hating my too tight clothes, hair was in bigger and looser curls after she had put her hands in action. As of right now I hate everything that has to do with this place.

My face looked pretty good compared to minutes earlier but I loathed it because I wasn't sure why this attire was put up on me...or because I had a feeling why but didn't want it to be true.

The older woman didn't understand me, she only understood some words not long sentences.

My eyebrows furrowed as a small frown tugged my lips downwards into a pout, eyes already filling with unshed tears but I take a deep breath.

I want to go home...

Zayn was my home.

I quickly look down holding on myself when there's that stinging on my chest... I have never felt anything like it before. Just how deep are my feelings going for him?

Shaking my head I concentrate on my breathing, if I keep thinking about him I'll go insane. He isn't here nor will he ever be. I had to accept it no matter how much my chest physically hurt when I thought about this. I couldn't allow myself to grieve or else I'd suffer from heartache and wouldn't stop crying, though all I felt right now was numbness.

When the woman was pleased with what she had done, she called the man back in.

He tugged on my arm very harshly indicating bruises that would form, he's guiding me while jerking me around a hall and threw me into a luxurious room. I stumble a little, rubbing on my hurt arm as I'm looking frantically around the smoke smelling room, crossing my arms over my chest because I felt so naked. Also I was alone in a room with a savage criminal, he's in Damian's gang and I didn't want a relapse of what happened only days prior with that disgusting kid.

To them I was just a doll they could dress up and do as they please. Maybe use as a punching bag or worse. I thought I knew what real fear felt but I was wrong.