THIRTY-NINE.

Swoosh…

“I'm… awake… you, arsehole!” I mutter through chattering teeth as I glare at my captor, who is still donning a mask.

“Oh, trust me, mil, I know. But you wreak, and this is my way of cleaning you.” He hums, then starts to whistle a tune.

Swoosh…

He tosses another bucket full of cold water over my shivering body and I grind my teeth trying not to scream. I don't want to give him the pleasure of knowing that he's causing me grief.

“And you couldn't have used warm water?” I shiver uncontrollably as my teeth chatter.

“Nope. I am not here for your pleasure. I am here to semi-clean the filth you have created in my basement. Besides, if you open your mouth, you'll be able to catch some water.” He puts the bucket down and starts to scrub the concrete ground with a hard bristle broom.

“I'm not going to live, am I?” I whisper in defeat.

He stops and looks at his watch. “We still have a few hours left.” He mutters and carries on with what he was doing.

“That's a no, then.”

“