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.

still feel dirty, no matter how many times I scrub. I could stand here all day, and I don't think

shut it off and step out of the shower,

grab the stained towel hanging on the back

recognise the person staring back at me. My face is pale, my

myself break down again. I've

shaky hands, spreading a glob of toothpaste on the bristles before

minty taste is sharp and overwhelming, a strange contrast to the staleness that's been lingering

harder than I need to, almost desperate to erase the past few hours from my memory. My gums sting, but

the sink, watching the pink-tinged foam swirl down the drain like the blood from my scalp earlier. The sight makes my stomach churn, but I don't stop. I brush again, harder, until the bristles are rough against my swollen gums, until the pain

mint do I stop, letting the

mouth and turn back towards the clothes that still waited for me on the counter. The underwear sits there in mockery, nasty and cheap, and I

against my skin, making me feel more exposed than if I'd stayed naked. Every inch of me recoils as I slip it on,

It clings to me as I pull it over my head, the cold fabric sliding down my body, a stark contrast to the cheap lace

meant to look elegant, I suppose, but all it does is make me feel like I've

skin pale beneath the dark silk, and I instantly feel sick.

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no choice

floor, pulling my knees to my chest, and close my

going to

take

will

fear is still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind, whispering that I'm 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

won't just let that happen. I won't give him the

have to fight

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

Fight.

for everything that was taken from me since my mother died. From him, from my father, from

I force myself to stand. The

need

the room again, searching for anything that I could use to defend myself. If he comes back down here and tries something, I