Amelia was busy frying the chicken for evening dinner when the nausea set in. Realizing she won’t make it to the bathroom in time, she rushed to the kitchen sink instead. When it finally passed, she rested her head against its cool surface, taking a few deep breaths to try and settle her stomach.
She has been feeling unwell for a few days now, and it has been two months since her capture. She had been doing everything in her power to make the house livable, and her father had demanded that she make dinner for him and the three men every night. Not that they had food every night. They lived on what one of them could scrounge up most of the time and she could feel the loss of weight on the few pieces of clothes she had.
It hadn’t taken her very long to realize the three men who joined her
