Amazon
Shawna Lynn Books
Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: xlibris
ISBN-10: 9781450068055,9781450068062
Type: Fiction
Pages: 450
My life is something that I have always cherished. But, for the past three years is something that I pray will fade.
My body is weak and my soul weaker, and I find myself unsure how much more pain and torture I can take.
Often I wonder what my life would be like if I had allowed someone to be with on my wedding day. Would I be with the one I love? Or has it always been my destiny to live with the evil that now binds me to this dungeon.
All questions that may never be answered..
My body cringes as once again I hear the footsteps of my captor. He is coming closer to the door! As fast as my weakened body will allow, I run to the middle of the room to take my position. This is not an option, you must be sitting on your knees, hands tucked within your lap and head faced down. If you are not in this position you will be taught a lesson……..a lesson you don’t want to learn.
His hot breath on my neck, indicates that I have broken a rule. My body and mind; now in complete fear; I sit and await the wrath I know he is about to put upon me.
The silence, unnerving, is more then my mind can handle. Screaming only within myself, I leave my fear unseen, unheard.
It is the day that Lue is to marry the love of her life. However, she will never get her chance, as waiting for her in the darkness is a man who will take her from the life she loves so much and keep her captured for many years to come, in which she will suffer a constant state of torture.
It isn't until that dreadful day that she had to take the life of another, that she realizes the true evil that binds her to her dungeon. When she finally escapes she realizes that all is not as she thinks and finds herself wrapped in a triangle between good an evil. The question is, who is the true evil one?
Filled with the unknown, this novel will put Lue through pain, torture and things that she could never imagine, things that only happen in the world of supernatural. However, it is not fantasy to her,this is her new life. Leading to a final climatic realization that may lead to her death, or worst yet the death of her beloved
Excerpt
As I arise from my afternoon nap, I peek out the window that over-look the yard. It’s a small window, but it's the only window in this dreadful place and I am happy to have it. At one time the window was not blocked. However, now the entrance to the window is covered in sharp shards of glass cemented into the concrete around it, allowing only a small dim of light to come through. I guess this is to ensure I never try to escape again.
I stand on top of an old, broken table. I am able to get a better look outside. It looks like a nice day. I try to guess the season. It looks like fall, as I can see a few orange leaves on the ground that has fallen from the tree that sits outside my window. The sun shines through just enough, allowing a pin-size ray of light to reach my hand. I move my hand around as I watch the light dance around my skin. Oh, how I crave the sunshine and wind on my face and await the day I can feel it once again.
As I hear the basement door open, the feeling of peace and contentment coming to an abrupt end.
I jump down from the table.
He is here!
I run to the middle of the floor and await the wrath I know he is about to put upon me!
I hear his voice. My skin begins to crawl and my head begins to twirl, making it difficult to think. My heart pounds faster and faster, until it feels like it is going to explode out of my chest. I wonder what will happen to me this time, what sort of punishment I will have to endure. His footsteps come closer to the door and I become tense. I want to scream, but I cannot.
He is now at the door!
I scream within myself as I hear the handle on the door begin to jiggle.
"Oh no! Oh no!” I yell in my head.
I run to take my position, on the ground behind me. You see, I was to sit in the middle of the floor, on my knees, head down, and hands tucked within my lap. Most importantly, never raise your head until spoken to. This was the norm, and if you weren't in that position when he walked in you would be severely punished.
The door opens just enough so that the rays from the sun can sneak in. Ensuring that he did not see me do so, I raise my head slightly and let the sunrays hit my pale white cheeks. The warmth feels nice. A brief smile comes across my face, as I am once again reminded of another time, another place. Afraid that he may catch me with my head raised, I close my eyes, and lower my head slowly. I did not show any sudden movement. As I hear the door slam behind him tears stream down my face.
I knew I had to get my crying under control. I want to wipe me eyes, but I knew I did not dare move my arms from their present position, so I try rubbing them on my old, battered gown. I knew I was not allowed to move unless I was told to do. I stop and lay my head back down, praying with all my heart that my actions were left unseen.
Without warning, the room becomes quiet and I can no longer hear his footsteps. I had to know where he was. I had to be prepared. Never moving my head from its present position, I open my eyes slightly, and try to look around. Through the corner of my teary eyes I could see he was now standing in front of me. The room is eerily silent as he stands there without making a sound. Afraid of what may happen, my heart skips a beat and I begin to sweat. My muscles begin to tense as every piece of my body yells "RUN, LUE! RUN". Knowing I don't dare attempt running, I sit and await the wrath that I know is coming next.
The silence is unnerving and I begin to fidget. I try not to move but my body becomes sore and tired in its present position. My hand begins to slip from my lap. Quickly, I try to reposition my hand in hopes that he did not see it move. Unfortunately.... I was not that lucky. He grabs my hand and begins to squeeze it with such intensity that a bruise instantly takes over my wrist. Pain shoots through my wrist and up my arm, instantly filling my eyes with tears. I begin biting my lip in pain; I could not scream. I look down, and can see that I had bitten it to the point that I had drawn blood, as it was now dripping onto the floor.
I try to keep my emotions under control, but the pain is too much to handle and a slight whimper escapes from within me. I was afraid of what he may do next. I sit as still as I possibly can, breathing lightly, ensuring I do not make another sound nor move again, not even in the slightest. The silence continues. I had to know what was happening. Never moving my head, I look over to where I know he is standing. I can see his shoes. I want to look up at him and apologize for moving in such a way that I had broken his rules.
"If he could just look into my blue eyes and see the pain he is causing me, maybe he will let go," a little voice inside me says.
"No he won't!" another voice in my head yells, "He loves to see you in pain. He will never release you if you show him your pain! You know that. Now quit acting like a baby and do what you know you have to do."
Coming to terms with myself and what needed to be done, I sit and wait, praying that he releases my wrist soon.
A loud growl comes from beside me, and suddenly, with great power, he releases me from within his grasp and throws my hand onto the hard floor. I could hear my knuckles fracture instantly, and once again a pain shot through my hand and up my arm. Afraid to move my newly broken hand, I let it lay on the floor. I was in excruciating pain and wanted to scream, but I knew if I did I would suffer more consequences. I had no other choice but to keep my head pointed towards the ground. I could never show him the pain I was enduring.
Without warning, I find my head being ripped towards him. Suddenly, I was staring into the dark and soulless eyes of my captor. His eyes look like empty bottomless holes, and made a chill run down my spine. I turn away, as it was like looking at evil itself.
With a fistful of my dirty, blond hair, he smiles as he wipes the tears from my cheeks.
"Is something wrong?" He asks in a devilish tone, as he walked around my body, hair in fist.
I was afraid to say anything, but at the same time I was afraid not to answer him. Without thinking about what I was about to say, my answer slipped from my mouth.
"Nothing wrong here, just another day in paradise," I smirk as he continues to pull my head in every direction.
The entire time those dreadful words were coming out of my mouth I knew what I had say was wrong. I couldn't help it. I was in pain and out of patience. I take in a deep breath, roll my eyes, and shake my head in disbelief. What have I done? How could I have let myself slip that way?
I close my eyes and await the punishment I knew was coming next.
With a chuckle, my captor releases my hair from his clutches and throws my head back towards the ground. Instantly my muscles burn, as if a hot poker had just been stabbed into the back of my neck. Without thinking, I roll my neck around my shoulders trying to relieve the pain. When I realize what I was doing, I instantly stop. I was now in complete panic. Not only had I spoke in a tone that I was sure he deemed inappropriate, I had moved without permission. This was it; I knew I would be hurt again. I just didn't know how.
“I think “Its” going to cry,” He says to me, with an evil laugh.
“My name is Lue. I am twenty-nine. I live in small town called Pocatello. I have a Mother. I have a Father. I have a Fiancé that loves me dearly. His name is Kamrin", I cry within myself, “I am not an “IT”. I am a woman.”
As he walks back over to my side, he pauses where my hand lay. Suddenly, I feel a breeze against my arm as he slams his heel harder and harder onto the ground, each time coming closer to my hand. Laughter fills the room, as with each time the heel of his shoe nicks my skin, he laughs. It was as if he thought it all to be a game....... a sick game.
As quickly as it all begins, it is over. A certain sense of relief overcomes me and I hope that I was safe for now. I peek through the corner of my eyes again and watch as he walked up the stairs towards the door leading out of the “hell-hole” I was in. I was safe, my punishment was over. I take in a deep sigh, and look over at my arm that still lay on the floor. I was amazed by the bruise that had taken over my entire hand and wrist. I try to move it, but the pain becomes too intense and my body refuses to try anymore.
I don't know if I was tired or if it was from all the pain I was enduring, but I need a minute before I try to get up and bandage my hand.
I lie on the ground and look up at the molded ceiling, and cry myself into hysterics. I was so tired, so lonesome and all I want was for this torture and pain to end. I just want to be left alone, and if this was the place I was to die, I wish it would happen without my mind or body enduring anymore pain.
A sudden burst of laughter echoes throughout the room, causing the room to shake. Startled by the movement of the room and the loud laughter, I leap up, and in one movement sat back into a kneeling position. He was back and he had seen me! Without warning, he begins to place the heel of his foot onto my newly broken hand, crushing any unbroken bones beneath it. A sudden and agonizing pain overtakes my arm. I scream only within myself. I would not let a sound escape my mouth this time.
"I will not give in to him... I will not give him that pleasure." I think to myself.
This angers him more, as he finds it exhilarating to see me in pain. I knew that was why he had come back. He had to see more. He had to keep hurting me until I scream. I would not. I could not do it. This was my only way of getting back at him. I have to ensure that I do not show him any emotions at all.
It was a fight against good and evil, he would not give in, nor would I. He continues pressing harder and harder onto my knuckles until he is sure there was not a bone left unbroken. The pain is overwhelming and I know he was not going to stop this time until I finally apologized and gave him what he wants. Evil would conquer once again.
“I'm sorry; I did not mean to break the rules." I whimper.
“Did you learn your lesson?’ The man asks in an eerie tone.
“Yes sir, I did,” I answer in a soft, apologetic voice.
“And what lesson did you learn?” He asks.
“Not to move unless told to,” I cry.
“And?” he continues.
“Not to speak in such a tone,” I answer, softly.
He must have been satisfied with my answer, because he slowly removes his foot from my hand and walks away. Afraid that he would come back again, I watch him as he walks up the stairs and do not move until I hear the door shut and lock behind him. It was finally over. I had made it through another punishment. Slowly I reach over and pick my hand up with the hand that was still in good shape. I look down at my hand and realize that he had crushed it so badly, that not only was it broken, but the skin had busted, causing two of my fingers to bleed.
I rip a piece of cloth from my dirty gown, and wrap the two busted fingers at tight as I can. It hurt but I knew it had to be done.
After a few minutes of pressure, the fingers stop bleeding and I stand up. It had been about ten minutes since my captor had left so I knew that I was safe for the night. Or at least that is what I hoping for, as usually once he had one of his fits, he did not return until the next day.
I didn't have to look long for something to wrap my hand in. You see I only had one dress and one extra pair of underwear and I had the dress on. I knew it would anger him if I was to tear my underwear and he probably would not allow me any others, but I had no choice. I had used everything else up on cuts I had received before. First, I had to use my grandmother’s handkerchief that my mom had given me on my wedding day. Then, when that was all used up, I slowly had to tear my extra dress up, piece by piece as my punishments became more and more and frequent.
I look down at the clean underwear and convince myself that by using them, I would suffer no more then just a slap on the wrist. He would understand what I had to do and why I had to do it. I knew he would understand... he had too.
I walk over to the bucket of water rations I have for the week and look into the bucket. There is only a small amount of water left. I sigh. I would have to use what I had left to clean my wounds and suffer thirst until he brought me more. Uncertain of what day it was, I was unsure just how long that would be, as time here seemed to stand still. I kneel over the bucket for a bit longer. With my unbroken hand I reach down and take the last drink of water I would have until I didn’t know when. I held it in my mouth for a brief second. I enjoy the cool water against my tongue. I think of a time when I took having water for granite, and then slowly swallow. The water feels nice as it runs down my dry throat; however, it only clenches my thirst for a brief second.
Tears begin to well within the corner of my eyes. I have to soak my hand, I just hate the thought of having no more water and the pain that awaits me from the cool water once it touches my open wounds. I look down at the bucket and begin crying harder.
It was either take the chance of an infection, or having water to drink, either way I was destined to suffer once again. I take in a shallow breath and slowly put my broken hand in the bucket of water and soak it. The pain is overwhelming, causing me to loose my breath. However, as the cool water remained on the broken and busted fingers my hand becomes numb and the pain subsides enough that it is bearable.
I hold in any further tears, lay my head on the bucket and let my hand remain in the water; afraid that once I take it out it would hurt worst then it had before. I close my eyes and let my mind and soul relax as I take in the silence of the room. I fall asleep.
Without warning, I am awakened by the sound of a loud crack. A pain overcomes my head. I try to focus on what had happened, but my eyes were blurry and my head refuses to move from where it lay.
"What's wrong with me?" I question myself.
My head begins to hurt more and more, as I try to move it again. I had no choice; I had to know what had happened. What was that sound and where did it come from? I take my hand and pull my hair back in order to help my head lift from the bucket. Once I am able to hold my head up without the help of my hand, I wipe my eyes and look down. To my surprise, my hand is covered in blood. In that instant, I realize that it is not tears that is blurring my vision, it was my own blood.
“Maybe blood had gotten on other hand without me knowing it,” I think to myself.
I try to focus on my broken hand. It was still in the water and there was no sign that while I had been sleeping it had fallen out and that the blood had come from it.
"Where is this blood coming from?" I question.
I try to think back. I look at my blood drenched hand again, and suddenly remember that I had taken a drink from that hand earlier and at that time there was no blood.
"Then, where is this blood coming from?"
My head becomes woozy and begins to droop once again, slamming into the bucket below. Stunned by the sudden movement, I decide it might be best to let my head rest where it lay, as I was to dizzy to move it again. As I look down, my heart skips a beat, as in front of me was a pool of blood. I watch in shock as more trickles down onto the floor.
"It’s coming from my head," I think to myself as I become panic-stricken.
My fingers begin to wonder across my head as I try to find out where exactly the blood was coming from. After only a few seconds of searching, I find a deep gash on my head. Instantaneously, a wave of exhaustion overcomes me and my eyes begin to shut. I try to fight it, but it is no use. I can no longer keep them open. The room begins to spin faster and faster, until I find myself unable to comprehend anything that is going on around me.
"I can’t let myself pass out, this could be a concussion." I think to myself.
Things continue to spin and my body weakens. My head becomes heavy and I can no longer hold it in its present position. My arms become like putty and no longer support my body, causing my hand to buckle beneath me. My face slams into the floor, hitting the ground with such force that I can feel my tooth brake within my mouth. I now have blood not only gushing from my head but also from my mouth. Fearful of loosing too much blood I take both my hands and endure the pain while I put as much pressure as I possibly can onto my head. Ignoring the blood coming from my mouth and the pain that is shooting through my broken hand, as it all seems minimal at the time compared to the
Blood-soaked floor beside me. I look up for a moment and through my teary eyes I see that he is standing in front of me holding a bloody hammer. I try to reach for him, but my arms are too weak. I try to speak, but my words are too slurred. As I pass-out, the last thing I hear is a burst of evil laughter coming from where his uncaring stature stands.
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