Razor Sharp | ✓

Eleven

♡♡♡

The door of the barn house swings open and I jump, scared of who it could be. I don't really feel like seeing anyone right now. Not Ridge, not Hunter and definitely not Andy.

"I have orders to move you to a room inside the house," a deep, smooth voice announces. When I look up, it's Marcos. I haven't seen him in a while.

"Oh," is all I can say, confused and somewhat happy to finally be out of this rotting, old, terribly humid barn.

"Grab your clothes and come along. You won't need to bring any of your bedding, it's already supplied inside."

I pick up my small pile of clothing that rests on the hay bale next to my bed. I can't say I'll miss sleeping on the scratchy surface. A bed might actually be a small blessing, except for the fact that I will be closer to Andy.

The thought sends chills down my spine and I shiver.

Marcos leads me out into the scorching heat and I squint, holding up a hand to block the sun. The humidity hits me straight away and I feel the sweat sliding down my back.

"Why am I moving into the house? Has Andy finally found his humanity and realised I'll die from heatstroke out here?"

Surprisingly, Marcos laughs. "He wants to keep better watch over you. He can't have someone placed outside you're door every night, it's costing him a member that he needs for more important reasons."

"So where exactly will I be sleeping? Will I have to share a room with a Razor member?"

A shiver runs down my spine. I can only hope that I won't have to share a room with an old man with a long bikie beard and a few missing teeth.

Marcos laughs at me again, even though what I've said is not funny in the slightest.

"Not all the Razor members live here, you know. They have houses of their own."

This never even occurred to me. I guess I'm so used to every single Skull member living on my property in some way or another, that I just thought that the Razors would do the same.

"You'll have your own room, Elena. You'll only be sharing the house with Hunter, Ridge, myself and of course, Andy."

It surprises me that Marcos lives here when he has just told me that everyone else has their own homes. Why on earth would he want to live here? I can think of about a million better places to be every day.

"Do you like my new look? I call it the broken nose and strangulation-marked neck. Unique, right?"

My words drip with sarcasm, but the look on Marcos's face when he turns to peer at me makes me catch my breath.

"Don't joke about such things," he snaps. "I don't always agree with his methods, you know."

I almost gain respect for this man, but then I remember he's the one who dragged me kicking and screaming from my brother.

He's no better than Andy.

When Marcos swings the door open, I'm met with the cool air conditioner and the sound of a football game playing on the television. It almost reminds me of home, if not for the fact that Andy is sitting on the couch next to Ridge, his arms rested behind his head.

"Oh, come on!" he screams at the TV, yelling at something the umpire does that he disagrees with. He almost looks normal, like any other regular man who has a passion for sports.

Once the door swings shut, Ridge spins around and his eyes land on me. He frowns, obviously noticing my face. He takes a hand through his hair, shaking his head. His eyes turn apologetic before I look away.

"Finally! I've been waiting for you to arrive!" Andy says, switching off the TV and getting up from the couch. He turns to me, smirking. He is obviously proud of how my face looks.

Asshole.

"I'm sure Marcos here has already explained to you why you will be moving into the house."

I nod weakly, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Well, Ridge will show you the way. You'll be sleeping in the spare bedroom, we just added the lock. Luckily for you, it has a bathroom. You're welcome."

You're welcome? 

I suddenly feel the urge to run back to the barn and stay there. At least I'd be away from all of them.

"Come on," Ridge says, inclining his head. He wraps his hand around my arm, lightly tugging me forward through the lounge room and down the corridor.

Once we are completely out of view from the lounge room, Ridge holds me against the wall, his hands pinned on both sides of my shoulders, blocking me from moving.

"God, Ellie, I'm so—"

"Don't," I snap, closing my eyes.

"I didn't actually think that he—"

I start to laugh. I place my hand over my mouth, trying to be as silent as possible. The last thing I need is for Andy to come down asking what the hell is going on.

"You sound exactly like your brother," I croak. "Always thinking your father is the good guy."

"I never said—"

"It doesn't matter whether or not you said it. That's what you both think! You think that he wouldn't actually hurt me, so you let him take me. You thought this wouldn't actually be torture, but it's actually killing me, Ridge."

He sighs, dropping his arms from my shoulders, stepping back.

"Just show me where my room is, then you can leave me alone," I say, wrapping my arms around myself, wiping away a tear.

Why had I just told him that? I should just shut my mouth, but my stupid vulnerable state has to go and ruin everything for me.

He leads me down to a room opposite his. "If you need anything, I'm just—"

"I won't. You've done enough," I say, slamming the door in his face.

I inspect the room carefully. A sign is propped up against the window, letting me know that if I try to break it, a loud siren will sound.

Fun.

There is an old mattress on the floor, a few springs ripping through the fabric. An old, yellowing, sheet covers it and one small blanket with moth-holes is folded terribly at the end of the bed.

When I walk further to the left of the room, I find the minuscule bathroom. It's so small that the shower is actually over the toilet. The basin is squished tightly into the corner.

I honestly didn't know what is worse. Being kidnapped, or having to use this bathroom.

The worst part of all is what I see looking back at me in the mirror. Have I honestly looked like this the whole time?

My nose is slightly crooked and two deep, purple bruises sit underneath my eyes. My lips are chapped and dry blood covers them. My hair is matted and disgusting.

I close my eyes, leaning against the tiny basin, breathless. Feeling claustrophobic, I walk back into my room, sitting down on the old mattress.

With a cold sense of dread flushing over me, I realise I have never felt more alone. Not even when I slept in the barn. At least when I slept there I was able to listen to nature. The sounds of crickets at night and birds chirping in the morning.

With the final tears slipping from my eyes, I hug my arms to my chest, wrapping them around me. I lay down on the mattress, trying not to inhale the smell of mould that it brings.

Within minutes I find my eyes drifting closed, not realising how tired I really am, despite that fact I'd only woken up an hour ago.

I guess being kidnapped does that to you.