4

He snaps his teeth down on my lower lip, forcing a sharp breath out of me, and his tongue slides inside. A quiet moan slips from my throat before I can stop it. I can feel the corner of his mouth lift into a smirk against my skin. He knows what he’s doing to me.

And I hate myself for it. This is my first kiss, I was saving for someone I actually cared about. My first love. And this monster just stole it.

But my body isn't listening to my brain. He kisses like a sin.

He finally pulls back, leaving me breathless and dizzy.

Before I can recover, his rough hand slides right under my blouse, gripping my bare chest. He squeezes hard, and I bite my tongue until I taste metal just to keep from making another sound. He shoves me back until my spine hits the cold wall, burying his face in the crook of my neck, kissing and biting my skin while his hand keeps working, smooching my breast.

Then, his grip tightens hard. A sharp, brutal squeeze.

"Hunter, it hurts!" I gasp out, struggling against his weight.

He doesn't stop. He squeezes harder, driving the pain right through me until hot tears leak out the corners of my eyes.

Pleasure straight into pain. That was his goal all along. He just wanted to break me.

"Hunter, please stop! You're hurting me!" I sob out, losing the battle to stay strong.

The second the tear falls, he snaps away from me like I burned him. Without a word, without even looking at me, he turns on his heel and strides out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

My knees give out. I slide down the wall and crumple onto the bed, letting the tears pour out in heavy, shuddering sobs.

I get it now. I'm not a guest. I'm just a toy to him. Something to play with whenever he feels like being cruel.

When I open my eyes again, the shadows in the room have stretched long and dark. Night is falling. I must have cried myself to sleep.

I sit up, wiping my crusty eyes. Crying isn't going to save me. Panic isn't going to open that door. If I want to get out of here, I need a plan.

"Oh, good! You're awake, dear," a gentle voice calls out.

I flinch and look up. A woman is standing in the doorway, holding a soft sweater over her arm. She looks to be in her fifties, with warm eyes and a kind smile.

"Who are you?" I ask, pulling the blanket up to my chest.

"Hunter asked me to make sure you were taken care of, sweetie," she says, stepping inside. "You can just call me Nanny Lilo."

She seems sweet, but hearing his name makes my stomach turn. That jerk.

"Come on now," she says gently. "Go take a warm shower and come downstairs for dinner."

"Erm..." I hesitate, looking down at my hands. "Can I just eat up here? I really don't want to go downstairs."

Honestly, I wanted to refuse the food entirely out of pride, but my stomach gives a loud, embarrassing rumble. I haven't eaten all day, and I used up every drop of energy screaming and crying. If I’m going to run, I need fuel.

Besides, if I'm stuck in this nightmare for a little while, I might as well eat their expensive food.

"Of course, dear," Nanny Lilo says with a nod. "I'll have the maids bring a tray up. Go ahead and get cleaned up."

She closes the door, and I head straight for the bathroom. God, It’s huge as well, the marble tiles, a giant glass shower, and deep bathtub. Everything is neatly laid out: fluffy white towels, fancy soaps, new toothbrushes.

I step out and check the closet. It’s practically a mini-store, packed with designer dresses, silk robes, and high heels—stuff I could never afford unless I won the lottery.

Is this all for me? No it can’t be, I’m just a prisoner here.

I dig through the racks until I find something normal: black stretch leggings and a simple red tank top.

I take a fast scalding shower, scrubbing Hunter’s touch off my skin until I'm red.

The moment I step back into the bedroom, a rich, mouth-watering smell hits my nose. My mouth instantly waters.

On a small rolling table near the bed sits an absolute feast: crispy chicken nuggets, golden fries, a bowl of creamy pasta, and fresh bread rolls.

I don't even bother with a fork at first. I sit on the edge of the mattress and dig in, scarfing down the food until my stomach feels completely full. I lean back against the pillows, rubbing my belly with a small sigh of relief.

Good job, Lauren. Step one complete. Now, step two: get out.

I stand up and look at the stack of empty plates. I don't want to leave them here, but I have no idea how this house works. In the movies, rich people always have those little brass call-buttons on the wall to summon the servants.

I wander around the room, checking near the light switches and beside the bed, but there aren't any buttons.

I sigh, picking up the heavy tray. Guess I'm finding the kitchen myself.

And I can as well, survey the house for an escape route. One stone to kill two bird right?

I creep over to the bedroom door, turn the handle quietly, and step out into the hallway. It’s quiet, lined with dark wooden doors facing each other. Who sleeps in these? I wonder, my heart starting to thud against my ribs. Just please don't let me bump into Hunter.

I spot a heavy door at the very end of the hall, right next to a set of stairs. It looks like an exit. I tiptoe toward it, holding the tray tightly against my chest.

I reach out, my fingers trembling as they wrap around the brass handle—

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice cold as ice echoes behind me.