Page 10 of Cruel Proposal
Dying feels like a peace I've long been robbed of.
Until I open my eyes.
I'm not dead.
It should be relieving to know that I'm still alive, but instead, it fills me with a sense of dread.
I don't recognize the room I'm in. The walls are painted black, and though there's a window on the far side of the room, it doesn't look quite right. The sunlight streaming through it is a little grainy.
Is that the window, or is that due to the drugs still pumping through my system?
I can remember being injected and everything getting dark and heavy, but I don't remember anything after that. There's nothing but a gap in my memory.
With my heart slamming against my ribs, I try to lift my ankles.
They move.
I lift my wrists.
They move too.
As I try to sit up, the entire world starts spinning, and my stomach rolls like it does right before I'm about to throw up.
I swallow down the bile and force myself to look up, bending over for a moment to put my head between my knees and try to get my shit together.
Getting out of wherever the hell I am isn't going to be possible if I can't even get to my feet.
What would your siblings do in this situation?
Skyla would probably kill everyone in sight. Aiden and Royce would be feral. Jade would likely wait to outsmart whoever kidnapped her. Ellie wouldn't need to do anything. Sean would torch the earth for her, and he'd do it without a second thought.
Which means I'm the only one without any sort of skills for this kind of situation.
I get to my feet, standing tall and taking a deep breath.
There's a dim light shining overhead and a door on the wall opposite the window.
I take one slow step at a time, feeling like I'm standing on top of a ball and trying to keep my balance.
As soon as I make it to the door, I try the knob, only to find out that it's locked.
"Fuck."
I turn and cross the room to the window, more of my balance coming back.
The haziness in my vision is starting to fade.
The bed in the middle of the room is bolted to the ground, but I might be able to use the bolts to stab out an eye if they're not properly attached to the ground.
The hope is enough to have me testing the window multiple times, even though I know the thing is locked. No matter how hard I try to force it up, it doesn't budge.
"Fucking hell."
Aiden is going to tell me that he told me so. I can see it coming right now. I'm going to get home one day—hopefully alive, but more likely in a body bag—and then he's going to stand over me with that annoying arrogance of his.
If I survive this, I'm never going to be able to go anywhere without a bodyguard again.
If I survive this, I'm not sure that's a bad thing.
