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I kicked, catching him in the ear.
His calm demeanor slipped, his hands rushing for my throat. I heard his watch tick louder in my ear, each second feeling so much longer.
I struggled to suck in air through my already dry throat. My chest heaved with desperation. My fingers stretched and then fisted, hurting the dislocated bone while trying hopelessly to squeeze through my restraints.
But it was useless.
One hand left my throat, only to whack my face so hard, I couldn’t even see the blonde woman’s surely smug expression as she unbuckled my other leg. Knowing I wouldn’t dare kick her, she undid my arms next.
Before I could reach for my throat, trying to remove the hand pushing down on my airway, that hand hoisted me from the bed and threw me to the ground. My knees cracked against the tiled floor, and I winced, my mouth open and ready for the dick that grew hard over my pain.
I wanted to bite it. To make him hurt. To make him bleed.
So, I did. I bit him, only to be stopped by his foot slamming into my chest.
Remi
I squinted, and my view of this over-sterile room was minimized. The less of the invisible dirt I saw, the better. The room may look clean, but this whole facility was filthy, and all the expensive tools and salaries were paid for with dirty money. Mine included.
The doctor pulled a large shard of glass from my right ear. The blood in the canal prevented me from hearing anything on that side.
Screams from the next room became louder, but they didn’t distract me, blending in with the ringing that had blared on the left side since last night, making it a struggle to pick up the familiar voice ringing out, hissing with a fiery temper and spitting insults.
It couldn’t be.
“Oops. The glass has caught your skin,” my doctor, also known as Rolland, the rat bastard, said.
I called him that because he was dirty like a rat. Not on the outside. His appearance was immaculate. His pressed coat was so perfectly white it glowed like fucking angel gear. The glass of his surgical binoculars was clear as they hung off his nose, with no nostril hair in sight. His white mustache was carefully trimmed, tickling my cheek whenever he got too close to my personal space, like right now.
I shifted away, my shoulder creating a barrier between us.
“Are we almost done here?”
“Manners, Remington.” Daniel eyed me from a distance. He leaned back—his ass against the worksurface and his shoes against the shiny white cupboards.
“Just a few more. Some are down quite far,” rat bastard explained, but I barely heard his whisper.
“What?” I snapped.
“We’ll have to run some tests on this ear. I think there may be some permanent damage.” He tapped my shoulder, making me uncomfortable, having the dirty man’s hands in places they didn’t need to be. The gentlest touch could dig out the deepest buried memories, and I wasn’t ready for that.
Another hiss came from the room next door, and my head snapped to the slogan painted on the wall between us.
Pain is temporary.
I scoffed over such bullshit, and I got nipped again by another shard, this one smaller, sharper. I didn’t flinch over the pain.
Rolland huffed, his harsh fingers, still smelling of someone’s pussy, moved my head back to his preferred position.
“Who’s in there?” I wondered, already half sure as I looked across again.
Again, Rolland moved me back, placing me like a puppet to where he wanted me.
Daniel’s eyes caressed my skin again—his smug expression caused my blood pressure to rise.
“Who cares?” He shrugged.
I shrugged, too.
