Chapter Two

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*two months*

I take a deep, shuddering breath, silently willing myself not to cry. Think of Scott. Think of Scott. My eyes travel to the mirror in the corner, the one that I pushed away because I couldn't bear my reflection. I scamper over and quickly turn it around.

My breath is taken away at my shirtless reflection. I look . . . dead. My eyes are emotionless, my cheeks are hollowed. My hair is matted and tangled, cuts litter my skin. Slowly, I turn around, and wince at the sight.

What seems like hundreds of long, thin cuts line my back, some crisscrossing others. A couple are still open and oozing blood. I look horrible.

"Mitch!" A voice interrupts my thoughts. I flinch and peak out of my room carefully. "Yes, sir?" I say quietly, slowly lifting my eyes up to make eye contact with my captor.

"Come here. I need to do something."

I obediently walk over, mentally preparing myself for the worst.

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