Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             Sadist, sick bastard.

                             “Yes, continue,” he says on the phone before nodding to the corner of the room.

                             Before I can see what he motioned at, Aaron leaves with the phone to his ear. The door clicks shut behind him.

                             I follow the direction of his gesture. Folded clothes, slippers, a blanket, a plate of food, and a bottle of water sit nestled in the corner.

                             I’m not grateful. I am not!



                             . . . . .



                             A sigh of contentment leaves my lips before I can stop it.

                             I never thought a shower and warm clothes could become such an extravagance.

                             I fold the trousers to my breasts but it still swallows my feet. The pullover is also three sizes too big, serving more like a mini robe. The jacket is even worse.

                             I must look like a clown.

                             Yet, these clothes are a lot comfier than my non-existent dress.

                             The cloth is soft as if they’re fresh from the dryer. There’s also the faint familiar cedar scent that indicates whom the clothes belong to.

                             I refuse to consider it kindness. He kidnapped me. Nothing can redeem that.

                             Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I pull the plate of food close. The soup is already cold, but the contorting in my stomach suggests I eat whatever is available.

                             The first sip comes with a tear down my cheek and a rush of memories of warm meals with my parents and friends.

                             I miss them. So much. It hurts.

                             How are they doing right now? The news of my disappearance must’ve reached them. The image of their sadness and possible tears makes mine flood my face.

                             The second sip causes my lips to tremble. My teeth clink against the spoon as more tears soak my cheeks like a downpour. I give up on the spoon and drink the bowl of soup in one go. The cold liquid tastes like salt due to mixing with my tears.

                             Is this my life now? Loneliness and cold soup?

                             Yes, Mae. Or he’ll throw you in that abhorrent darkness.

                             A shaky sigh leaves the recess of my soul as I place the tray on the floor.

                             I need a hug. A long, soothing hug.

                             Crawling into the blanket, I pull my knees into my chest and wrap my arms around them.

                             “It’s okay, Mae. You’ll be all right.”

                             Even as I say the words aloud, tears continue soaking my cheeks. I’m only fooling myself.

                             Mum always told me not to cry myself to sleep, but she isn’t here. Her calming words can’t reach me anymore. It aches like tiny needles piercing into my heart. They’re not enough to kill me, but they’re sufficient to make me wish I died already.