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She drew herself into a ball and shivered in the darkness. Her head was a lot clearer with him gone, and she growled angrily as shame-filled tears started to fall down her face. She was going to have an awful lot of trouble ever looking him in the eye again. Did he really think of her as a slut and a whore, or had he only said it to get a reaction?
She felt used, and utterly stupid, and for not the first time she wished that she could crawl into a hole and die. His opinion of her mattered to Suzanne, she realised suddenly. And so it should. He had said he was the one who would decide what to do with her once his boss was done. Her tears intensified as a cold feeling of dread fell over her. What if he really thought that she was a whore? She had no way of knowing what he wanted or what he was thinking, so there was little point in dwelling on it.
She was thirsty and aching and oh, so hungry⦠On closer inspection of the room Suzanne noticed that Sasha had left a glass of water on the floor for her, and she sniffed at it carefully.
She took a small sip, and decided that it was safe. Trying not to gulp, she finished the rest of the water and laid back down on the bed of her prison. That was the last thought she remembered having before falling into sleep once again. She repeated it in her head like a mantra as Sasha stood in front of her, that familiar brutal expression on his face. And a knife in his hand. Oh god. Had she managed to turn him off her so completely that he was ready to kill her?
