Gorgeous by Lisa Shelby

Author:Lisa Shelby [Shelby, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lisa Shelby Books, LLC

12

Olivia

* * *

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of water dripping, as though from a leaky faucet, wakes me. My head is pounding, and my stomach feels sick. I try for what feels like minutes to open my eyes, and when I do, my surroundings are blurry and unfamiliar. The space around me feels damp, and I'm lying on cold concrete. In fact, the entire room is made of concrete and there is an old metal desk covered in rust pushed back into the corner.

With my world spinning, I push myself up, and the pain in my head becomes unbearable, and my stomach empties itself onto the cement in front of me. My eyes tear from the strain of getting sick and cloud my already blurry vision. I awkwardly crawl to the other side of the room and as far away from the smell of where I just got sick. My wrists and ankles are tied together, and I struggle to sit up with my back against the wall, in the corner of the room where I can see everything there is to see—not that there is much to see. I'm starting to shake with chills, and I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs.

My vision slowly begins to clear, and I see there are two doors. One leads to a disgusting bathroom with the faucet, which appears to be the source of the dripping sound that woke me. The other door leads to what, I don't know. There are two windows in the room, but they are covered in a film that barely lets any light in. The room is gray, dingy, and I have no idea where I am.

The more I wake, the more I realize it's not just my head that hurts. My entire body seems to have an underlying ache about it, but the ache in my head is not nearly as subtle and feels like a baseball bat was taken to it. I reach my hand up to the central location of the pain and my fingers are met with tangled hair that is covered in what feels like day-old blood. Sure enough, when I pull my hand back it is covered in crimson. The urge to get sick again overtakes me, but just as I think I might vomit, I hear the click of a lock on the door. I still and the fear that fills me takes away any urge I may have been having.

The door opens and in walks an overweight, balding man. He's wearing a suit and, just as I remember, wingtip shoes. I don't need to look at his face to know whom he is. He carries an aura about him that you feel the moment he is anywhere near you. An aura of pure evil. The man who killed my father and ruined my mother. The man who has had control of my life, even when I wanted to believe he didn't.

He closes the door, and it sounds like it locks shut behind him.

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