Grave Burden by P Anastasia

Author:P Anastasia [Anastasia, P]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780986256783
Publisher: Jackal Moon Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The scent of mustiness and decay made my nose wrinkle. I opened my eyes to find myself sitting in a dirty, decrepit room with ugly, off-white drywall riddled with holes. Broken picture frames and torn canvases lay on the ground, and remnants of plaster dust and strips of shredded wallpaper littered the floor.

My shoulders were bare; shreds of clothing scarcely covered me: a sleeveless torn crop top, cut embarrassingly high, and a grungy, meager denim skirt with threads spiraling down from all sides of the hem—hardly covering my thighs.

Vintage erotic art cluttered the wall opposite me, roughly-colored, distasteful, and some, even gruesome. Glancing over them nauseated me—women who’d been gagged, chained, or tied to furniture… like prisoners.

Derek had better taste than this.

I’d seen some bad art in the tattoo industry, and had been asked to do some offensive designs, but I had no tolerance for people who took pleasure in images with gross violent natures.

Dingy window curtains fluttered nearby and I turned toward them as a faint breeze squeezed in through a crack in the clouded window. It appeared to be daytime, but such a thick layer of greasy haze covered the window that very little light shone through.

Filthy place.

I looked around the uncomfortably small room. A battered writing desk with only three legs had been shoved into one of the corners with no chair in sight. No door, either.

Where was I? I came to my feet and began searching for a way out. There were no vents, no ceiling tiles, nothing, only a sad excuse for a window and no mechanism by which it could be opened. I shoved my hands against the warm glass, and pried my fingers into the frame, but it didn’t budge. It must have been two inches thick, as it didn’t make a sound when I slammed my shoulder against it.

A heavy thud vibrated through the floor and I veered around.

There was the missing chair, with Derek upon it. He sat on it the wrong way—his characteristic preference—legs straddled over the seat and his forearms resting across the craggy wooden back.

“Hi again,” he said, an intense glare centered on me and anticipation in his smile.

My knees felt heavy, as if my blood had pooled in the lower half of my body, and I could no longer feel my fingers beyond a strange tingling.

“What do you want?” I tried to cross my arms in an effort to cover my bare midriff, but my body wouldn’t comply. All I could do was turn my head slightly to the side and avoid eye contact with him.

“Just you,” he replied, his toothy grin revealing no vampire fangs this time. “Come here,” he said, curling a finger inward as he leaned over the back of the chair.

“No.” I imagined my hands curling into fists, and my knees locking, but they wouldn’t. An invisible force made me take a step toward him, my legs moving without my consent.

Fear crushed me.

I had lost control over my body, even as my mind fought to regain it.

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