Page 244 of Sincerely, Butterfly

A spark of fear shoots through me.

No. There’s no fucking way.

I try to move my arms again, but nothing. Because they’re fucking pinned down to the armrests by brown leather straps.

With every breath I take, my panic grows, making my heart race wildly. It’s not just my arms; my legs are strapped together, too. As my eyes travel up my body, I see a matching leather strap across my shoulders.

And the kicker is… I’m butt ass naked.

That would explain why I’m so damn cold.

This has got to be a dream, right? There’s no way this is real.

My guys would never allow someone to take me. They would burn the world down to protect me.

Only, they didn’t know where I was…fuck!

Chest heaving, I blink my eyes a few more times, trying to focus my vision. I wish I didn’t, because oh my god, it’s a fucking scene out of a horror movie.

I’m in some kind of medical room. But not your typical one, like in a hospital. This place looks old, and kind of reminds me of something from an old school insane asylum.

You know… when I thought about my death, this was not how I thought I’d go.

“Hello?” I call out, then slam my mouth shut because why the hell would I want whoever did this to come back?

God, are they going to do some kind of fucked up experiment on me? Torture me alive, then dispose of my body after.

I swear to god, if someone fucks my corpse, I will come back as a ghost and kill him!

“Fucking hell.” I still feel like shit. My head’s a mess, and everything is hazy. I have to be asleep. I refuse to believe anything else.

A sound catches my attention, sending my heart into overdrive.

This is it. This is my kidnapper coming to kill me or, worse!

But when I see three men walk in, bare-chested but wearing plague doctor masks—one with black hair, one with blond, and the other with brown hair—my body slumps in relief.

I should have known it was them, that they would do something like this.

Oh, fuck, it’s them!

They know I lied to them and went to the club with Callie.

Of course they fucking do. I really am stupid sometimes.

“Heeey,” I laugh out nervously, and it comes out extremely slurred. They don’t reply, just slowly stalk towards me. “I’m sure you’re… w-wondering what I was d-d-doing… at that club… I mean.”

They still don’t say anything as they surround the chair I’m strapped to. Sylas carries something that resembles a briefcase and places it on a medical rolling table, which he pulls closer.

Licking my lips, I watch with bated breath, waiting for him to open it.

He does and starts pulling out different—I’m going to assume—medical instruments.

Fuck me, they’re not actually going to torture me, are they? Is lying to them some kind of hard limit? I get being upset, but this? It seems a little extreme.

“Let’s talk ab-about this,” I suggest as he continues pulling all kinds of different items out, laying them on another table that he’s rolled to the left of me.

“So that you can lie to us some more?" Jasper asks in an emotionless tone, just like a robot.