Introduction
She wants to escape the gilded cage he has put her in. To do so, might meant her death or a rebirth as someone else. only then will she willingly pay the cost for love.
The Cost of Love is created by Rebecca Graf, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.
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About Author
Rebecca Graf
Chapter 1
Awareness tugged at her. The tugging eventually became more demanding as she resisted. Reluctantly she allowed it access into her foggy mind. Even that mental move was painful. Giving up trying to stay in the dark of nothing, she attempted to open her eyes. Only one submitted to her urging, and it only allowed a small slit of viewing room. The other one throbbed where it was swollen shut. She could feel the skin around the outside tight from the dried blood that caked it. A small degree of fear set in as she focused on the scene around her.
Darkness and shadows swirled around her. She felt her body tilt from left to right and then around in circles. Or was it the shadows moving about? They moved around her in a fluid movement that appeared to be alive. She could no longer distinguish between reality with her mind playing tricks on her. Reality was a figment of her imagination. Maybe it always had been.
Prying open the one eye a little bit more she could make out the dim lit floor. The grey concrete walls loomed toward her and then swayed back in the yellow light. They appeared to be living beings, mocking her state as they moved toward her as though to crush her and then pulled back to leave her in isolation. One second they were crashing down on her. The next they were lost in the dark shadows that joined in on the fun. The loneliness pricked at her heart and called for the panic to come out to play.
Taking up the role of constant companion, pain never left her body. Numbness had settled in. Hours, maybe even days, had gone by. She had no clue anymore. The darkness surrounding her did not give a hint as to the time. No windows existed in the deep basement enclosure. She was lost to the torture, both physical and mental.
Gathering what little strength she could muster, she managed to open her mouth enough for her tongue to stick out. With slow and labored movements she wet her cracked lips. She couldn't help but flinch when her tongue ran over the split his fist had caused. The pain from it helped to clear the cobwebs that shrouded her mind, though not all of them. Some other part of her refused to let her have all of her mind together, working at full speed.
Her mind seemed to have gone as numb as her body. Coherency was a myth, a story from long ago. There was only one certainty. She was going to die. She knew that. He had made no bones about it. Her death would be slow while he enjoyed watching the reaction her body had to such deliberate infliction of pain. How she longed to just have had the bullet he had threatened her with enter her head and end it all.
Maybe her heart would just give out. There was only so much the human heart could physically bear. What point did it have to reach? Surely she was close to it giving out under the pain she had felt. Could she hope for so much mercy? Probably not. He always got what he wanted, and he wanted her to feel pain and to feel it for a long time. She had a price to pay and there was no forgiveness of this debt.
A noise reached her ears. Faint yet distinct. It was a familiar noise. She had only been in the subterranean enclosure for a few hours in the dark when she had first heard that sound. A chill had gone down her spine just as it did now at the scratching. It was an instinct reaction humans had developed over the generations to the noise and what it came from.
Seconds, or hours, passed by. Whether she had passed out during that time, she honestly didn't know. Nothing revealed itself. The noise had not been heard again. She feared she had been wrong in the source of the noise. Maybe it wasn't what she thought it was. Maybe it was more pain coming toward her. Maybe it was her pain soaked mind.
The squeak brought relief washing over her. Her first guess was right. Her one good eye strained to see through the darkness. Another squeak was followed by a dark blur at the edge of her vision. From the shadows she made out the small rodent. He moved into the dim light that barely broke the darkness from the yellowed bulb that hung from the concrete ceiling.
Hannah grunted. It was the only sound she could muster through her still lips. The mouse paused at the sound she made. He stood up on his hind feet and twitched his nose as he sniffed. Only sensing her in the room, he moved forward and stopped a few inches from her tied hands.
She moved one of her fingers. Her vision was getting a little better as she could see her hands lying on the cold floor. They were stretched out in front of her, blurry through her one eye but still there.
The mouse eyed her finger. He scurried a little bit closer and paused again. Sniffing the air, he cased out the situation. Hannah moved her hand again, hoping to coax him into gnawing on the ropes that cut into her wrists. He had sniffed at them once and backed away as though sensing the evil within them. Not even the blood dripping from her hands could entice him closer. He scurried back to the edge of the dim light.
Hannah wanted to cry. Though only a small rodent, she imagined him as a friend. He was a living object that wasn't trying to kill her. She needed him, and yet he ran away.
It didn't stop her from trying again. The numbness dissipated as she moved her hands toward the small creature. Fire exploded in her shoulders. The room began to spin. She would have laid her head down, but it was already on the cold, concrete floor. It had not moved from the spot where it had fallen after she had been released from the ceiling joists.
The mouse turned his head toward her hands that were able to move an inch closer to him with the painful effort she made. He leaned forward, his nose twitching. With a squeak, he jumped and ran back into the dark shadows.
Hannah wanted to call out. She took in the breath to do so, but the muscles in her chest and back screamed in pain. The room began to spin again.
If she had had anything in her stomach, she would have lost it. But that had been done a few times already. Now she fought the bile that threatened to come up. With even breaths, she was able to calm the stomach muscles down and get her equilibrium back. It was then she heard what scared the rat off.
Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Each fall sounded like a drum. Hannah's stomach flipped and threatened to expel the bile anyway. She knew what was coming. Pain. Intense, excruciating pain. Maybe now it would be death. She could hope.
The voice told her otherwise. A single tear slid out of her open eye and splattered onto the concrete.
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About Author
Rebecca Graf
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