21. Clean up the Mess

Madison

When I see Gustaf's bloodshot eyes and smell his sour, alcoholic breath, all I want to do is scream. But the sound gets muffled when he presses his filthy hand harder against my mouth while pulling me to him.

Does this guy ever shower? There is a putrid smell on his skin as if he has been digging in his own ass.

Disgusting.

"Aw, did you just try to scream?" Gustaf scoffs mockingly as he tightens his hold on me. "Well, too damn bad because no one will be coming for you this time!"

He laughs like a madman and drags me toward the stairs with horrifying strength that I stand no chance of fighting against. That doesn't stop me from trying, though.

The first thing I do is try to stomp his feet, but he is wearing boots, and it proves ineffective. So I change my tactics and try to bite his arm—unwillingly tasting the filth that clings to him like a second skin. Tears prickle behind my eyelids, but I bite harder until Gustaf finally releases me.

"You fucking bitch!" he pushes me