Shadows In Durango

Chapter 110

*****Sofia's POV*****

I stare over at the clothes Ashton had left for me on the bathroom counter, bile rising up in my throat as I try to swallow down the wave of disgust.

The red underwear looks cheap, flimsy and see through nothing like anything I'd ever choose for myself. It feels like another layer of control, another way for him to make me feel trapped down here under his rules. He'd actually gone to a store and picked these out for me, like he had every right to decide what I should wear all the way down to my underwear... completely vile!

I force myself to look away, taking a deep breath as I peel off the filthy clothes I had been wearing, what I could only guess how many hours for.

Every movement feels like an effort, my body aching with exhaustion and fear. My hands shake as I reach for the shower handle, twisting it until the water begins to rush out in a harsh, steady stream.

I was thankful for the water to be somewhat warm at least, since I had expected the bare minimum of ice cold pelts to beat down against my raw skin.

I better just get this shower over with as quickly as I can before he comes back... I'm not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me naked!

There wasn't a lock on the bathroom door either, another tactical move on his part to stop me from hiding away from him.

He was sick.

He was most definitely deemed a psychopath in my eyes at this rate, having thought of each and every small detail to help trap me down here for as long as his sick mind wanted to.

I seethe through my teeth as the water stings against my skin as I step under it, but I don't care. I need to wash it all away - Ashton's touch, the fear, the dirt of this place clinging to me like it's soaking into my very bones.

But as soon as the water cascades over my scalp, I feel a sharp throb of pain, the ache radiating through my head like a dull, pounding drum as I yelp at the pain.

I reach up to my hair and freeze, my fingers coming away sticky and dark. My heart lurches in my chest as I tilt my head downward, watching in horror as the water begins to swirl red at my feet, blood mixing with the water as it spirals down the drain.

I gasp, my legs suddenly weak beneath me. How much blood have I lost? How bad are my wounds?

I should probably see a doctor for this!

It's the first real sign of what Ashton has done to me, the physical proof of the violence he had inflicted so far and the reality of it knocks the air from my lungs.

Forcing myself to push through the nausea, I gingerly scrub at my scalp, trying to cleanse the dried blood and grime without triggering more pain. I wince with every stroke, feeling the raw patches where my head must have been hit time and time again.

around me is running clearer now, but I still feel dirty, no matter how many times I scrub. I could stand here

I shut it off and step out of the

hits me, and I shiver again, but I can't bring myself to care. I grab the stained towel hanging

staring back at me. My face is pale, my eyes hollow, and there's a dark bruise forming along my cheek

break down again. I've already wasted too much of my

toothbrush laid out on the sink, and I grab it with shaky hands, spreading a glob of toothpaste on the bristles

is sharp and overwhelming, a strange contrast to the

few hours from my memory. My gums sting, but I keep going, brushing until the metallic taste of blood

stomach churn, but I don't stop. I brush again, harder, until the bristles are rough against my swollen gums, until the pain numbs the rest of

of blood overwhelms the mint do I stop, letting the toothbrush clatter down into the

me on the counter. The underwear

if I'd stayed naked. Every inch of me recoils as I slip it on, the fabric

own. It clings to me as

does is make me feel like

dark silk, and I instantly feel sick. This isn't me. This isn't who I am. I'm not some broken

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have no choice but to

sink down on to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, and close my eyes, trying to block out

going to

going to try and take more from

will I

trapped, that there's nothing I can do. That Ashton will come back down here, push me onto that bed, and take whatever he wants from me. The thought alone makes

let that happen. I won't give him

have to fight

thought is like a flicker of light in the overwhelming darkness. It starts small, but the more I focus

Fight.

since my mother died. From him, from my father,

the floor, my legs weak, my body sore, but I force myself to stand. The nightdress clings to

just need

I could use to defend myself. If he comes back