Chapter 8: The Forty-Eight Hour Siege

[ SAMANTHA'S POV ]

Forty-eight hours. Two whole days.

I knew exactly how long it had been because of that tiny square window high up on the wall. I just sat there in pitch black and watched the light change from a dull gray, to bright yellow, to pitch black, and then back to gray again. Twice. When you are locked in a room with absolutely nothing to do, your eyes automatically stick to the only piece of the outside world you have left.

By the second day, the hunger stopped being just a loud growl in my stomach. It turned into a sharp, hot wire twisting deep inside my gut. Every single time I tried to shift my weight or even draw a deep breath, a brutal cramp squeezed my middle so hard that I had to double over on the mattress, tucking my knees all the way to my chest just to breathe through the pain. My throat felt like it was coated in thick, dry sand. Every time I tried to swallow, it felt like rubbing two pieces of rough sandpaper together. It hurt so bad, and my lips were already cracking and bleeding from the lack of water.

C’mon, Sammy. You’ve been here before, I whispered to myself, my voice coming out as a dry, pathetic scratch that barely left my mouth.

My father used to do this to me all the time back home. Whenever I didn't clean the kitchen perfectly, or if Linda lied and blamed me for something she broke, he would lock me away for days without a single crumb of food or a drop of water. He wanted me to scream. He wanted me to pound my fists against the hard wood and beg him for mercy until my voice went completely out. He loved the power it gave him. He loved knowing that my survival depended entirely on his mood.

But I learned back then that crying and begging never made the door open any faster. It just gave the monster exactly what he wanted. It fed his ego.

So I didn't make a sound. I refused to give David that satisfaction.

Around the middle of the second night, heavy footsteps marched down the concrete hallway. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. They were slow, deliberate, and loud enough to echo off the walls. I went completely rigid on the mattress, my heart leaping straight into my throat.

Clack. Clack. Clack. 

The two heavy deadbolts slid back with a harsh, metallic scrape. The door groaned open, and a bright flare of yellow light from the hallway hit my eyes, making me wince and shield my face with my arm. The brightness was blinding after so many hours of pure darkness. When my eyes finally adjusted, I saw a tall silhouette towering in the doorway.

It was David.

He didn't have a food tray. He didn't have water. He just stood there with his hands shoved inside his pockets, looking down at me in the dark room like I was a piece of trash he threw away two days ago. He looked incredibly clean, completely put together in a fresh designer suit, while I was shivering on a bare mattress in his old, oversized T-shirt, covered in dust.

"Still quiet?" David said, his voice dropping into a low, mocking tone that filled the small space. "No screaming? No begging? Hmmm. You’re tougher than the other gold-diggers, I'll give you that."

I didn't answer him. I squeezed my fists tight inside the oversized sleeves of his shirt, forcing myself to look straight ahead at his polished leather shoes. My body was weak, but I forced every single muscle to remain still. I wouldn't tremble in front of him.

"Let's see how long that pride lasts when your throat completely closes up," he hissed, his voice full of pure disgust and malice. "Enjoy the quiet, Samantha. Because nobody is coming for you and nobody is going to save you."

He stepped back and yanked the heavy wooden door shut with a loud bang that rattled my teeth and echoed inside my ears. The keys jingled violently outside, and then the sharp, brutal sound of the locks turning back into place cut through the air. Clack.

The darkness rushed back in, thicker and heavier than before.

Aaahh, God. The pain in my stomach was so intense I had to bite down on my own lip until I tasted copper just to keep from crying out loud. I collapsed sideways onto the bare mattress, shaking violently from the cold and the sheer lack of energy. My body was completely giving up, my head spinning in fast circles from the dehydration. I felt so dizzy, like the room was tilting upside down and the floor was falling out from under me. David really wanted to break me. He wanted to leave me here until I became nothing but bones.

I closed my eyes, my breathing getting slower and weaker, completely unable to move a single finger. I was fading out.

Hours dragged by, and the mansion went dead silent again. The air in the East Wing became freezing cold, biting through the thin fabric of the shirt. I was floating in that weird, terrifying space right before you passed out completely where you can't tell if you are awake or dreaming.

Suddenly, a sudden sound made my eyes snap open in the dark.

It wasn't the heavy, angry boots of David or the guards.

It was the soft, frantic jingling of keys right at my doorknob. Clink. It was incredibly quiet, like whoever was holding them was trying their best not to make a single sound. Then, very slowly, very quietly, the heavy deadbolt began to turn from the outside.

My heart gave a weak, panicked flutter against my ribs. Someone was unlocking the door in the middle of the night and they were trying to hide it.

The lock finished turning with a soft click, and the heavy door began to push open.