TRIGGER WARNING!!! This chapter contains mentions of abuse and human trafficking which may be distressing for some readers. Please proceed with caution!!!

Daphne's POV

I frowned my brows and groaned in pain, wondering where I was and why it was very dark and surprisingly warm. What the heck happened my entire body felt like a train had wrecked me.

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't. I tried so hard to pick up my body, still the same thing.

“Honey! Honey come quick” Who does this strange voice belong to? Neither have I ever heard it in my entire life nor do I feel a sense of familiarity.

What is it? Why are you shouting” said a voice but this time it was a man.

“She just moved her fingers, I swear it was twitching,” she said with excitement.

“Are you sure? Are you certain you were not just imagining it?”

“I am certain”.

“That is great news, I hope this poor thing survives it.” the male voice said equally enthusiastic. Am I dreaming? Who are these people and why am I not moving? And before I knew it, I could feel my mind shutting down again.

****************

God damn! I gasped as my eyes snapped open. My throat was all patched up and swallowing was so hard. ‘N…ate?” I called out for him as I struggled. I just had the most terrible dream that I was on the brink of death, and Claire tried to kill me.

Wondering why he was not answering, I called out again.”Babe?”

I woke up slowly, my whole body aching as if I had been beaten. Every muscle felt stiff, and my skin burned from scraps I didn't remember getting. I tried to sit up but, my back proteste. My body racked in pain. God damn

Where am I? Confused, I looked around, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the rays of the sun.

What is this place? The room was extremely small and cramped, with a low thatched roof made of dried grass. The walls were uneven, made of mud bricks that had cracks running through them like they might crumble at any moment.

There was no paint, just the dull brown of the mud. Let’s not talk about the floor, it was cold, packed dirty, with patches where it had worn away, leaving little dips in the ground.

The bed was nothing more than a rough wooden frame with a thin, lumpy mattress, covered by an old blanket. Next to the bed was a small wooden cupboard, its door hanging off one hinge. It looked like it might fall apart if I touched it.

A small window sat high up on the wall, barely bigger than my head. It had no glass, just thin wooden slats to keep out the worst of the weather. The wind whistled through the gaps, making me shiver.

In the corner of the room, there were drums– lots of them. They were all stacked in piles, some tall and thin, others short and wide. The drums looked old and thin, their skins stretched tight but worn from years of use. They seemed out of place, filling up the room with their looming presence, making me feel even smaller and more trapped.

Everything around me felt so unfamiliar and strange. I was beginning to get scared because this place felt similar to where I was kept back in the days when I was trafficked. I started hyperventilating thinking of the worst scenarios. Did I get kidnapped again and fall back into my trafficker’s hands?

My body started shaking from fright at the possibility that Matthew had tracked me down. He said it was his favorite toy. Matthew was my previous master before I finally escaped the cycle of traffickers. I saw hell. He abused me every day and night, forcibly shooting his seeds down my womb. He said needed a breeder because his wife didn't want to have kids at the time.

Unfortunately for me, during the auction, he was the highest bidder. I don't want to begin thinking back to how they dehumanized us and sold us like pieces of good. He was a 40-year-old sadistic, deranged monster.

He would feed on my despair and pain. In his words “It aroused him, to see me used and degraded like the good little whore I was.”He would hit me till I cry out, bite me till I bleed out.

Heck, he would even call his doctor to stitch my vagina, because he loved the feeling of ripping me apart and bleeding for him when he forcefully shove himself. He would lick my tears and blood with a satisfied smile on his face. I didn’t realize how much I was crying until a thought came across my head “Where is my Nathaniel and why isn’t he coming for me.”

I froze in place as my mind drifted and recollected parts of what I thought was a dream. It happened. It fucking happened. I remembered fragments of the night little by little. How he dismissed and degraded me like I never mattered to him, how Claire tried to kill me, how he denied my child, how he tossed the divorce papers, and lastly, how they had tossed my body and left me to die.

“NOOOOOOOOOO” I yelled in a broken voice just like how my heart was broken into a million pieces.

Just then, an elderly man rushed into the room.