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.

many times I scrub. I could stand here all day, and I don't think

it off and step out of the

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

I don't recognise the person staring back at me. My face is pale,

let myself break down again. I've already

and I grab it with shaky hands, spreading a glob of toothpaste

to

need to, almost desperate to erase the past few hours from my memory. My gums sting, but I keep going, brushing until the metallic taste of blood fills my

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 numbs the rest

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

for me on the counter. The underwear sits there in mockery, nasty and cheap, and

scratchy against my skin, making me feel more exposed than if I'd stayed naked. Every inch of me recoils as I slip it on, the fabric grating against my bruised body like

Ashton left for me is black and silky, the kind of thing I'd never wear on my own. 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 beneath

does is make me feel like I've been dressed

skin pale beneath the dark silk, and I instantly feel sick. This isn't me. This isn't who I am. I'm not some broken doll to be dressed up

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right now, I have no

floor, pulling my knees to my chest, and close my eyes, trying to block out the reality of what

to

try and take

will

Ashton will come back down here, push me

won't just let that

have to fight

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

Fight.

From him, from my father, from my brothers. They've ruined me thus

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

need to

use to defend myself. If he comes back down here and tries something,