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.

I still feel dirty, no matter how many times I scrub. I could stand

runs clear, I shut it off and step out of the shower, my body shivering from the exhaustion

again, but I can't bring myself to care. I grab the stained towel hanging on the back of

I don't recognise the person staring back at me. My face is pale, my eyes hollow, and there's a dark bruise forming along my cheek where Ashton must have caught

break down

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

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

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

stomach churn, but I don't stop. I brush again, harder, until the

do I stop, letting the toothbrush clatter down into the sink without

The underwear sits there in mockery, nasty and cheap, and I have to force myself to

more exposed than if I'd stayed naked. Every inch of me recoils

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

meant to look elegant, I suppose, but all it does is make me feel like I've been dressed for someone else's pleasure - which I

feel sick. This isn't me. This

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no choice but to

my knees to my chest, and close my eyes, trying to block out the reality of what was happening

going to

and take

what will

come back down here, push me onto that bed, and take whatever he wants from me. The thought alone makes my stomach

that happen. I

to fight

of light in the overwhelming darkness. It starts small, but the

Fight.

everything that was taken from me since my mother died. From him, from my father, from my brothers. They've ruined me thus far, and I won't

body sore, but I force myself to stand. The nightdress clings to me uncomfortably, but I ignore it. I can't focus on how

just need

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