It smelt funny, wrong somehow even half asleep it made me want to gag. And the bed I was laying on felt wrong. Hard and lumpy. It made even my bed back at my father's feel like it was made from a cloud.
My eyes fluttered open, and the dim light sent a wave of white-hot pain through my head. That’s when it came back to me.
It was all wrong because I wasn’t at home, or at my father’s. I was in a bar and my asshole of an ex-husband had punched me in the face.
It came back to me in a rush, everything that had happened.
That son of a b***h, groaning I forced myself to sit upright. Glancing around me. No wonder it felt like a plank of wood was under me, it wasn’t a bed at all. It was a table. A long table. With what looked like chains at either end.
Now, why would a table need chains, unle
