A proud narcissist

Ivy Hughes

My heart stopped working when he ordered his men to take me to a dark room. Fear gripped me. I didn't know how to tell him I was afraid of darkness.

We got to the dark room, however, it wasn't as dreary as he had pronounced it. It was just as spacious as his master bedroom. It had a bed and a small shelf beside it. There was no window except a small hole at the upper part of the room where the little ray shone into the room from.

One of his men, who was carrying me, dropped me on the bed like I was a bag of sand and they strode out without glancing at me for a second. I wanted to hold their legs and plead with them to let me go but my ego took a better part of me.

My trepidation increased when I heard them slam the door. They were gone.

I sat up on the bed, folded my legs, and rested my head on my knees. Inwardly, I was praying somebody would come and help me. Or maybe Kayla would.

Yes! Kayla! She must be hell worried about me. She must have lost her sanity already.

After