1. Escape from the Sex Basement

Dymond

I could spread my thighs far apart, from east to west. 

Use as much tongue, saliva and throat muscles. My back could contort into the deepest, curviest arch, subjecting my body to the most brutal violation. Nothing could buy my freedom from Greg, my psychopath ex-boyfriend.

So I ran.

Away from the sex basement he locked me in. To another city. I left my job, my apartment, my bank account, money, everything to my name. I had to leave it all, else, he will find me. And kill me.

“Freeze!” A man barks out of the darkness in front of me.

I gasp, immediately blinded by the powerful flashes of light surrounding me from all directions. 

“On your knees now!”

Guns cock, and what looks like an army of men in black suits pour out of the shadows. They are menacing, pushing me down to the ground before I can even gather my bearings. One of them begins to palm my tattered clothes, searching, until he reaches the hard, cold object hidden in my pocket.

“I found the diamond!” He yells, snatching it out of my pocket, ripping the cloth in the process. “This bitch actually took it! If it were a man, I would have knocked her teeth out!”

My heart is pounding in terror. Despite the chill in my bones, sweat pours down my face in rivulets.

“Bundle her up! We'll take her to the boss, he'll know what to do with her!”

A pair of large hands grab me, yanking me off the ground. In a flare of panic, I try to fight them off, only for them to yank a chemical-smelling bag over my head. I scream, inhaling copious amounts of the gas.

In a second, it all goes black.

*

The crack of thunder jolts me out of my stupor. I sit up with a groan, blinking my heavy lids against my blurry vision.

“Where the hell am I?” I reach out blindly, feeling the smooth cold floor for a hint. Or a weapon. 

The yawning darkness is all too familiar to me. Reminding me of the horrible nights trapped in Greg’s basement, where he forced me to do things that should never see the light of day. I begin to breathe hard, trembling and trying to find a way out of this place.

“You are in a cell. Panicking won't get you out.” A dry voice rasps somewhere beside me.

I scream, terrified to find out that someone else is in the darkness with me.

A horrid wet chuckle echoes, followed by a series of wheezing coughs. “Don't be afraid. I couldn't hurt you even if I tried. You should be more afraid of the one who put you in here.”

“Who the hell are you?” I demand.

There is nothing but silence, punctuated by his raspy breaths. Outside, lightning flashes, and for a second the white light filters through a tiny window enforced with steel bars. I caught a glimpse of the cell. It is a big steel box, harsh and cold. 

“It gets brutal here when the storm comes. It is gonna be a tough night, brace yourself.” He says quietly.

Thunder cracks again.

As a precaution, I crawl to the far side of the wall, curling into myself. I do not trust anyone, especially not a man I met in a cell. He could try to hurt me. Like my ex-boyfriend did.

A cough. “You look young, cellmate. Red hair, a fiery spirit. It would be a shame to see him break you.”

“How can you see me?!” I ask suspiciously.

That wet chuckle again, that sounds like there are holes in his lungs. “When you've spent so long in the darkness, where there is no difference between years and months, your eyes adjust. Tell me, how did you end up in so much trouble? This is no place for unsuspecting girls, I assure you.”

“Who runs this place?” I ask instead, standing up to pace the cold floor. “How long have you spent here?”

“Long enough.” He wheezes, “You would be better off not knowing him.”

“Him?”

The storm outside grew more violent, spraying ice-cold water into the cell. Any longer, and the entire floor would be submerged. It made my stomach twist in urgency. I had to get out of here.

“Stop with the riddles and tell me how to get out of here!” I scream at the darkness.

The metal door suddenly unlocks, drowning out my voice. I scurry back against the wall, watching it fall open to reveal a male silhouette holding a gun. Bright light washes into the cell, illuminating the man laying in the far corner.

My eyes widen in horror at the sight of him.

It is a middle-aged man, his entire head of hair straggled and matted against his beard, like one big unkempt mass. Snot rolls down his nostrils, phlegm stains the floor around him. His clothes are wet, and stained. Old scars line his emaciated chest, which rattles with every breath.

“Grab her.” The silhouette orders. Two men barge into the cell, charging towards me.

“No! Don't touch me—! No!”

They cover my head with a bag again, this time, it is empty of noxious gas. I scream and scratch, still I feel myself get lifted in the air and carried out of the cell.

A long moment later, I was thrown to the floor. I brace myself, expecting to meet a punishing hard floor, but my fall is cushioned by an exquisite rug. 

“Feral little thing.” A silky dark baritone startles me. “Out of everything you could have stolen from me, you picked my most prized possession?”

Hyperventilating, I yank the bag off my head. Sitting in front of me, is a behemoth of a man, elegantly rested in a king-sized swivel chair. He has a black, silk robe strung over his powerful shoulders, exposing an uncomfortable lot of genetically bronzed skin —and muscle.

He raises his head from the laptop rested on his thigh, to look directly at me.

My mouth falls open, the moment those steel gray eyes connect with mine. They gleam menacingly, enhancing the strong, sharp features of his face. He is… handsome.

No. Beautiful, in a way only a man can be.

I snap my jaws shut and pin my panicked stare to the floor. I remind myself of that poor man slowly dying in the cell. The male in front of me is a dangerous man. 

He is my captor.