Torn from You Read Online Free PDF

withdrew. He nipped the top of my ear so hard I
cried out. “Going to be sweet fucking you for real while you beg
for mercy.”
    I swallowed the cry in my throat and bit my
tongue so hard I could taste iron in my mouth.
    He reached up and undid the manacles, and I
fell hard to my knees.
    It took me a few seconds before I could move
past the pain and raise my head. Slowly I turned and looked over my
shoulder for Logan.
    When I saw him my heart stopped for a few
seconds then started beating erratically. It was him, but nothing
in his eyes was the man I knew. He was cold and expressionless as
he stared down at me. Not a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. I
recognized nothing of the man I had fallen in love with.
    Hope died as the realization hit me. He was
part of this. He did this to me. I vomited all the water before
everything went black.
     

 
     
    Day 3
    Devastation overpowered all my other
emotions.
    Hopelessness.
    Agony of being torn from everything I
thought was real.
    Raw pain made me numb to everything.
    I lay on the cement floor of the basement
where they threw me and two bottles of water after facing Logan.
He’d betrayed me. He’d looked at me as if I was nothing. Like a
piece of mold as I lay degraded and beaten on the floor.
    My mind fought what I’d witnessed, trying to
make sense of something that didn’t make sense. How did I miss it?
How did I not see that coldness I saw in him now? Was it possible I
was so taken by him that I’d blocked out what I didn’t want to
see?
    No. Kat said she’d seen it. He was in love
with me. But the man I saw here wasn’t a man in love. That was a
monster. He’d looked right through me, his eyes void of emotion. He
ignored my pleading while another man stuck his finger up inside
me. He watched as I was whipped over and over again. That wasn’t
human.
    But Logan had a band. Georgie and Deck knew
him. He sang in Matt’s bar. It didn’t make sense, and yet ... he
stood and watched me being abused. He talked to those men like he
knew who they were.
    I don’t know how long I cried for. I was
bleeding and alone, so hurt and desolate that when the numbness
from shock came over me I let it. But it didn’t last.
    Anger came, with the hatred for Logan. The
shaking stopped, and I sat for hours staring at the small window,
most of the time thinking of nothing except the burning hate for
Logan—no, Sculpt. Logan no longer existed.
    What seemed like days later, but may have
only been several hours, the door opened and footsteps stopped at
the top of the stairs. I got up and walked up the steps toward
Alfonzo, each step agony matched with despair bleeding through my
veins. I had nothing to fight with any longer. Logan betrayed me.
Matt nor the police were coming for me—no one was.
    “Stop.”
    I did.
    “Put this on.” He passed me a clean T-shirt
and jeans then threw a pair of flip-flops at my feet.
    I knew asking for privacy was pointless, and
it really didn’t matter. My body no longer belonged to me. It had
been starved, beaten, and blinded with darkness. The welts on my
back and legs still throbbed, and I could feel dried blood where
they’d whipped me so hard it ripped open my skin.
    I’d never experienced such excruciating pain
before; the worst was getting kicked in the ribs by a horse. But
this pain wasn’t just physical; it was emotional. Being locked away
for hours, waiting for the unknown and praying for someone to save
me, while Logan’s cold voice, haunted every waking moment.
    I unzipped what was left of my dress and
stepped out of it. I could feel his eyes roaming over my naked
skin. It was disgusting, and I felt dirty, and I quickly pulled on
the jeans then put the T-shirt over my head at the same time as
slipping on the sandals that were a few sizes too big. I briefly
wondered about the girl who had worn them last.
    I was waiting for him to touch me. To throw
me down on the floor and kick me or use me, and the slightest
movement had me jumping and