Author's pov

There was someone in the room.

Lurking in the darkest corner, camouflaged in the shadows, breathing steadily, but watching sharply, making sure she felt it in her bones.

She didn't scream, standing frozen on her spot.

Goosebumps broke out on her skin. Despite her breath hitching, she didn't flinch, her fingers curling to draw steadiness as she walked out of the bathroom.

Was the monster back?

She thought there was still time before she had to face it again. Was she being toyed with to satiate his whims again? Dread crawled up her spine. No matter how much time passed, the hand clawing at her skin without her permission still tormented her the same.

Perhaps she had been getting greedy lately ever since the mansion fell into chaos and the monster was forced to leave her behind and stay on the run most of the time. She felt relieved. However, somewhere deep inside, fear still held her hostage, not allowing her to even relish the fragments of respite.

Despite her nerves drumming in her ears, her voice came out steady, “Who are you? How did you get inside?”

She held her breath as the silence stretched.

Then a voice rumbled, low and deep, carrying danger in its baritone, “It would be quite a hassle if I killed you here.”

A shaky breath betrayed her composure.

She can't die. Though she had imagined killing herself a thousand times. Even wished to be killed. But if she had intended to be dead, she would have killed herself long ago.

“I will scream and the guards will be here in no time. Don't play with me.”

A retorting chuckle grated against the silence, and her nerves thumped faster.

“You seem too eager to stay here. What a waste of energy!”

Anger spiked through the fear coiling in her gut. “You’re quite a talker for a coward taking refuge in the shadows.”

Was it stupid to poke the intruder who might kill her with a single snap of the neck? Definitely.

She didn't mean to provoke him. It was a momentary slip. Over the years, she had learnt to stifle her emotions, mute her voice, and grown accustomed to living like a lifeless effigy.

But something about this dangerous stranger seemed to be getting under her skin, threatening her years of crafted composure.

Footsteps shuffled. The switch was flicked, and the whole room lit up. The sudden bright intrusion, for a fleeting second, forced her to squeeze her eyes shut. A solidly built figure emerged, clad in an all-black fit, his forehead shielded by the large hoodie, a mask pulled over his mouth, leaving the eyes to catch the glint.

A pair of midnight stormy dark eyes met with her cognac brown orbs, both frosted ice bergs, colliding into fierce onslaught.

His deep voice rang again, his words stealing the breath from her lungs. "Ms. Samarth.”

The world stilled for a moment. Then tilted abruptly. She had to dig her feet into the floor to keep herself steady.

When was the last time someone called her by her name?

Not in what felt like forever.

She had almost forgotten how her name sounded. Because here, her only reality was being a worthless doll, a mere possession with no soul or dignity of her own.

The stranger stood tall, unfazed by the storm brewing inside her. As he took another step closer, her body automatically grew alert. “Don't step any closer.”

He paused on the spot, a slight frown visible on his brows, assessing her in absolute silence.

“I harbour no lecherous intention of touching you."

“I don't care about your intentions. Keep your hands off me,” she stated, making sure each word was delivered firmly.

He stared at her visibly taut body and ashen face for a second longer, then wordlessly pulled out a pair of gloves from his pocket.

“We are leaving. I am getting you out of here.” He pulled on the gloves, retrieving a gun next.

Sweat broke on the nape of her neck. “I don't know you.”

“You won't be sold or trafficked. Be assured, your organs will remain as they are and you won't be shoved into any undignified business.”

Her mouth fell agape.

Who was this man?

More importantly, what was this man?

She would be lying if she said she wasn't tempted. But she had no idea about this man. Neither was she aware of what hell awaited her after. This place was already a hell. But at least it was familiar. And humans are inclined to familiarity when comfort is not an option.

Then again, what hell could be worse when she had no soul to lose?

Instead of directly giving in to temptation, she was buying time to dwell, however pointless that may be. “Why are you taking such a huge risk for me? These people are dangerous and inhuman. This favour might cost you your life.”

She instinctively scrambled a step back, sensing him moving closer. Unlike before, he didn't stop, but stepped into her vicinity, magically drawing out a pair of handcuffs.

“I don't do favours.” Her breath hitched as their eyes met through the proximity.

Goosebumps carpeted her skin, a chilling shiver running down her spine as his hand hovered above hers, just a hairbreadth away, not touching, but terrifyingly close.

“Don't lament over a dead man. Worry about your life first.”

She opened her mouth, however her words were cut short with a soft clink, and only then did she realise that the handcuffs were clamped around her wrist.

Eyes widening, she fumed, “I am not your cattle.”

“I don't fancy pets either.” With another clink, the other side was fastened around his wrist.

He spun on his heels, moving towards the locked door, tugging at the handcuffs, forcing her to trail after him. The doorknob twisted and the light from the hallway bled through the slightly parted space. Right before stepping out, he cast her a glance over his shoulder, tossing the key to the handcuffs towards her.

“Careful,” his tone was laced with a tinge of warning that jolted a spark of electricity through her body. “You're now bound to the sinner.”

Her heart plummeted. What she didn't know was whether it was actually an escape or if she was going to be bound for eternity.

Signing off

~T.R