CHAPTER FIVE: "PREGNANT"

Evageline sat on the cold floor of her locked room in the basement. The walls felt close, pressing in on her. She had not eaten much that day. They brought her food only once, a small plate of bread and water pushed through the door slot. 

It tasted dry in her mouth. Twice a day, two guards came to bathe her. They dragged her to the small bathroom attached to the room, stripped her clothes off, and scrubbed her skin hard with rough cloths. Water splashed everywhere, cold and stinging.

The guards laughed as they worked. Their voices echoed loud in the small space. "Three days left," one said, counting on his fingers. "Then you're done, girl. No more baths for you." The other joined in, his laugh sharp. 

"Two days? No, three. Tick tock." Evageline kept her eyes down, her body shaking. She felt small and broken. Her arms were thin now, her skin pale from lack of sun. The mocking words hurt more than the cold water. She wanted to scream, but her voice stayed trapped inside.

Night came slow. The single bulb in the room flickered, casting shadows. Evageline curled up on the thin mattress, pulling the blanket tight. Her mind raced with fear. What would happen in three days? The wedding. Roman. Death. She closed her eyes, but sleep would not come. Then, the door creaked open. Heavy footsteps entered. She sat up fast, heart pounding.

It was Damien, her brother. His face looked hard in the dim light. He shut the door behind him and locked it. "Eva," he said, his voice low and rough. "Look at you. So weak." He stepped closer, his eyes on her body. Evageline pulled the blanket higher, her hands trembling. "What do you want?" she whispered.

Damien smirked. "You're going to die soon. few days, they say. Roman will kill you at the altar. He won't want to touch you after what you've done." He sat on the edge of the mattress, too close. His hand reached out, touching her arm. His fingers dug in. Evageline flinched, pulling away. "Stop," she said, her voice small.

But Damien did not stop. He leaned in, his breath hot on her face. "No reason to wait. I'll have you now. It's not like anyone cares." His hand moved to her shoulder, then down her side. Evageline's stomach twisted. She felt sick, trapped. 

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. Then he kissed her, hard and rough. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue pushing in. His other hand trailed down her chest, under the blanket, grabbing at her breast.

Panic hit Evageline like a wave. She was weak, her body heavy from days of little food, but she fought. She bit his lip, hard enough to taste blood. Damien pulled back with a yell. At the same time, she kicked out, her foot hitting his groin. He groaned loud, pain flashing in his eyes. Rage took over. He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. Then he slammed her skull against the edge of the bathtub nearby. The impact cracked like wood breaking.

Pain exploded in Evageline's head. Blood dripped warm down her face, into her eyes. She fell to the floor, her body limp. The world spun, colors blurring. She tried to move, but her arms would not lift. Her mind felt foggy, too weak to feel the full hurt yet. She lay there, breathing shallow, tears mixing with the blood.

Outside, footsteps rushed. The door burst open. Their father stormed in, his face red with anger. "What is this?" he shouted. Damien stood up, holding his side. He pointed at Evageline on the ground. "She tried to seduce me, Father! I came to check on her, and she grabbed me. When I said no, she kicked me hard. I had to defend myself!"

The father looked at Evageline, blood pooling under her head. His eyes narrowed. He grabbed her arm, pulling her up rough. She cried out, the movement making her head throb. "Shameless girl," he spat. "Stooping so low, even now. Trying to trap your own brother?" Evageline shook her head, words stuck in her throat. Blood trickled from her mouth. "No, please" she managed, but he did not listen.

He dragged her to the bathroom sink, shoving her face under the faucet. Cold water hit the wound, stinging bad. She gasped, pain shooting through her skull. "Call the doctor," the father ordered a guard. "Tell him to stitch her up. No pain medicine. She doesn't deserve it."

The doctor arrived quick, a thin man with steady hands. He cleaned the cut on her forehead, the gash deep and jagged. Evageline sat on a stool, held by a guard. The needle went in first, piercing her skin. It burned like fire. 

She screamed, her body jerking. The thread pulled tight, each stitch a fresh stab. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with blood and water. Her head pounded, waves of hurt crashing over her. She bit her lip to stop the cries, but sobs escaped anyway. The doctor worked fast, no words of comfort. Ten stitches, maybe more. Each one felt like it tore her apart inside.

When it ended, her head wrapped in a bandage, the father pushed her toward the door. "Back to the basement," he said cold. "Lock her in. No more baths today." Guards grabbed her arms, half-carrying her down the steps. Her legs dragged, too weak to walk straight. They threw her on the mattress, the door slamming shut. 

The lock clicked. Evageline curled up, holding her head. Pain throbbed with every heartbeat. She felt alone, broken. Why did no one believe her? Her brother, her father both against her. Tears soaked the pillow. Sleep came in fits, haunted by the slam of her head.

Meanwhile, across the city, Roman worked in the big house. He directed men as they set up the bedroom for Evageline. Fresh white sheets on the bed, flowers in vases, her clothes hung in the closet. The room looked bright, ready for her. Roman smiled, touching the soft blanket. "She'll like this," he said to himself. Excitement built in his chest. The wedding was close. Three days. He could see her there, safe with him.

Matteo watched from the doorway, arms crossed. He sighed deep. "Roman, what if you're wrong? What if they don't give her up?"

Roman turned, his face going cold. His eyes hardened. "If I'm wrong, I'll kill Stella. Then I'll ask for Evageline again. And again, until I get her." His voice stayed even, but the threat hung heavy. Matteo shook his head. He thought Roman would never get her. The family held her tight, full of lies and anger. But Roman looked sure, his jaw set. "It will happen," he said. "I know it."

Matteo said nothing more. He turned away, doubt heavy in his mind.

Back in the basement, three days to the wedding, Evageline lay on her mattress. The bandage itched on her forehead, the pain dulled to a constant ache. She stared at the wall, counting in her head. Three days. Then what? Guards brought her food, thin soup this time. She ate slow, spoon shaking in her hand. Halfway through, nausea hit. Her stomach rolled, food coming back up. She ran to the small toilet, vomiting hard. Acid burned her throat. She wiped her mouth, confused. Why now?

Later, bath time. The guards dragged her up as usual. In the bathroom, while they waited outside, Evageline saw it, a small box hidden under the sink. A pregnancy test. Her heart jumped. She had heard the maids talk once. She grabbed it quick, hiding it in her towel. Back in the room, door locked, she went to the bathroom alone. Hands trembling, she followed the instructions. Pee on the stick, wait. Minutes ticked by slow. She sat on the floor, knees to chest, breath short.

The next morning, light filtered weak through the small window. Evageline woke early, stomach still uneasy. She checked the test, hidden under her mattress. Two lines. Clear as day. She froze, staring. Pregnant. Her hand went to her belly, flat still. 

A baby. Inside her. Tears filled her eyes, hot and fast. Fear mixed with something soft, unexpected. Whose? Her mind flashed to Roman, that one night. But now? Locked away, waiting to die? She sobbed quiet, body shaking. The world felt heavier. Three days left, and now this. What would she do?

The door slot opened. Food came. But Evageline could not eat. She held the test close, heart racing. Life grew in her, small and secret. But death waited outside. She rocked back and forth, whispering to herself. "Please, let me live." The basement felt smaller than ever.