7: The Basement

SADIE.

I do not need to open my eyes or wiggle my numb hands to know what this is. It is cold, way too cold probable around a degree Celsius or even less. I would wear a warm jacket and even a hat and gloves, take that I also feel the wind brushing past my goosebump-ed skin.

I can tell where I am, I have tortured people in basements before and aunt Kitra trained me in my father’s basement. If this place does not give a basement even though I am yet to confirm, the crack sounds made from a burning wood to keep this place warm enough to some extent is enough to out what the place is.

I will not give him what he expects. Not a whimper, not even a struggle with the zip ties chaffing raw into my wrist as I breathe in and out. What I know is until I avenge Esther, I cannot die. His death has been paid for and I will end up killing him. Moreso now, that he has marked me weak even in my own eyes by being able to have me strapped against a metal ch