GABRIELLA
I have no idea how much time has passed. Weeks, months, years? They all started to blend when I was forced to be with a man such as Kendrick Knight. I was a fool when I was a young girl, eighteen, innocent in the mind and lovestruck in the eyes. When I saw him, I thought I had found my own true love.
Now looking back, whoever truly found their love at eighteen?
He was wealthy, a few years older than me, and had a smile that could have me sigh just like the love-drunk teenager I was from a mile away.
So we got married.
And that’s when everything changed.
It started out with him yelling, threatening that if I didn’t do simple chores around the house that I’d regret it. Then he shoved me.
Then he hit me.
And I had never been able to get away from his grasp.
Until I met his brother Sebastian, my savior, my reason for staying next to my abusive husband’s side. We never crossed a line, couldn’t; he was loyal to his brother, and I was too scared to even fathom, to have the audacity to test Kendrick like that.
Come to find out, it didn’t matter.
Kendrick thought I went behind his back, and maybe emotionally I did. Sebastian was kind, gentle, sweet, and always found a way to make me laugh.
Kendrick noticed.
Kendrick punished me.
One day, my husband—ex-husband—got sloppy with his abuse and hit me in the face. When Sebastian saw the bruise on my cheek and my busted lip, he nearly went insane with rage. I had to beg him not to go after Kendrick because I knew Kendrick would kill his own flesh and blood if he had the chance.
Sebastian became my best friend, the brother I should have married. He wasn’t going to allow me to stick around with Kendrick, and he forged as many documents as he could to give me an out. And he did.
I was free.
I had divorced and was living alone in Spain, just counting down the days until Sebastian was out of prison so we could be together. I lived in freedom
for four years, until Kendrick found me on the bridge that overlooked the Ebro River. Kendrick stood on one end of the bridge, and when I tried to run in the other direction, his guards stopped me.
Now I’m locked in a tower, kind of like that Disney Princess Rapunzel, only there isn’t any magic to free me. I am trapped, and that is exactly how Kendrick wants me. I don’t understand men like him. He wants to hold power over me, for me to fear him, and it worked. I do fear him, but I don’t understand what made him want to control me. Kendrick has no feelings for me, that much is clear, so why am I so important to him?
My hands grip the chain that’s attached to the cuff around my ankle, and I give it a good tug. The metal jingles, and tears prickle my eyes. I am Kendrick’s slave. I’ll live here. I’ll die here. The only thing I wish for is that I’ll get to see Sebastian again. The terror in his eye when I told him that I had to go back to Kendrick so Sebastian’s life would be saved is something that will haunt me for all eternity.
I’ll carry his handsome, tormented face to my grave.
I glance around the room, eying the stone tower. It would be beautiful if the looming atmosphere wasn’t so daunting. The architecture, while haunting, is magnificent. The detail isn’t something that could be replicated.
To my left, there is a large window—barred, of course, to keep me from dropping out of it. Like I could; I have a leash on my ankle. The chain has enough slack for me to move around the room, but not enough to walk out the door.
Across the room is a small desk, where Kendrick allows me to draw to help pass the time. I have a sewing machine as well and an iron to make sure Kendrick’s suits are pristine, and if there was one wrinkle, I’ll pay the price.
I stand from the twin-sized bed and place my bare feet on the floor. The stone is cold in the mornings, but I always welcomed the quick freeze. It helps me wake up and figure out a way to survive the day. The moment I stop feeling the cold is when I’ll die, no matter how much I want to live. I have to cling to hope that Sebastian will find me.
He will.
He has to.
I stretch my arms over my head and gather the long strands of my black hair, twisting it until it’s tight enough for me to make a bun at the top of my head. Sebastian always liked it when I wore my hair up. He never said why; I guess he didn’t want to cross that line with me, but I always wondered what he liked about it.
If I could turn back time, I would, and I’d fall in love with Sebastian instead. Life doesn’t have a reset button, but it does give second chances in some capacity. My second chance at happiness is Sebastian, and I plan to live long enough to experience it.