Scar

Pain flared in my throat as I swallowed, every breath a reminder of his grip around my neck. My hands trembled, but I forced myself to keep eating.

If I stopped now, he would see it as rebellion, and I wasn’t in the mood to suffer more of his wrath.

Dickson watched me like a predator, his golden eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.

Pathetic.

Bile rose in my throat, and I set the bowl down, my stomach twisting violently. I needed to think, to find a way out of this.

Running ...