Esme
“You know this is nothing personal, right?”
“Right,” I mumble. “Being kidnapped from my home, kept prisoner, beaten, tortured, se.xually assulted, and forcefully having my blood drained is nothing personal. You’re insane!”
I groan against the binds holding me down on this hard bed. The monsters holding me captive tied me to this bed the day they brought me here. I was held down by ropes around my ankles and wrists above my head, secured to the headboard. They allow me to use the bathroom once a day, not that I need it when I’m so dehydrated most of the time. I can’t escape because they keep me too weak to even walk unaided.
They feed me every other day, but I can’t feed myself. The man in front of me now is the one who feeds me by hand. It’s humiliating, and I hate it, but I have
