Bea Paige [Paige - Strings: A Dark Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance (Finding Their Muse Book 3)

H eat shimmers in the air around me, but despite it, Im still cold.

Its a feeling Ive gotten used to, being cold to the bone even with the intense heat that pervades the swollen air.

Its as though my bodys senses are in disarray, my synapses firing the wrong information so that heat becomes cold and cold becomes heat. Nothing feels right anymore.

Nothing is clear.

My head is foggy, both from intense pain and from something else...

My fingers reach automatically to the back of my hand and a cannula thats inserted there. It hurts, at least I think it does. I yank at it, feeling the trickle of blood but not caring. I know it shouldnt be there.

Its why I feel so wrong so out of myself.

Shell only put it back in. Punish you for disobeying her again, a voice tells me.

My only question is; who is she?

I realise Im listening to a voice in my head, but I dont question it. His voice comforts me. I cling onto him, a man who seems in control, far more with it than I feel. Theres strength in his voice I lack. Groaning, I push up against the hard mattress, only to find that whilst my arms are free, my body is strapped down across my chest and thighs.

A dull throb in my brain keeps me from understanding why that is.

I dont even know why Im here, only that I am.

I dont even know where here is. Only that I am here.

Hell, this is fucking Hell.

Theyll come for you soon, survive until then.

Who will come?

Just survive.

Im trying, I mutter.

The sound of my voice is raspy, unrecognisable. Is that really me speaking? I have no concept of time. Ive no idea how long Ive been strapped to this bed. I can barely remember my own name. Come to think of it

What is my name? I have no idea. All sense of self stripped away. Im just a body that feels, and even that isnt going so well. Peeling my eyes open is proving difficult, and I realise that theyre swollen, so much so that when I finally force my eyelids apart real pain lashes against me.

Now that I feel.

I groan loudly, cutting off the sound midway through. I dont know why I must curb the sounds of my agony, only that its important that I do. Lifting my hands, I gently press my fingertips against my face. It isnt just my eyelids that are swollen, but my cheeks too.

Pain erupts everywhere, though strangely its caught between hurting and nothing, as though my body feels it, but my brain refuses to acknowledge it. Still, I persevere, feathering my fingertips lightly against my skin towards my nose. Its crooked is that why I cant breathe so well?

Despite the white pinpricks of light that threaten to draw me under I continue to check my wounds, somehow knowing there are more even when I know nothing else.

I lift my hands up to the top of my head, wincing when I reach a deep wound that stretches from my hairline back to the centre of my skull. When I pull my fingers away there is blood. A lot of blood.

A vague memory of being punched in the face dances across my thoughts, followed by something hard smashing across my skull before its ripped back and locked behind a door inside my head.

Not now. Shell be back soon, and you need to be strong, the voice tells me.

I know hes right. Im happy with not remembering. Not remembering is good.

So, instead, I mentally assess all my injuries. I know now my face is a pulpy mess, that I can breathe better if I open my mouth, but if I draw in too deep a breath it hurts, a lot. My hands press against my torso delicately, and I wince when I feel the strange pain of several cracked ribs. I cant sit up to check the rest of my body, but I move the lower half of my legs as much as I can. Nothing broken, I dont think. Though its hard to tell for sure beneath the dense fog within my mind.

Turning my head from side to side, I try to take in my surroundings. Theres no artificial light, nothing but the tiniest crack that must be coming through the bottom of a door. Im not sure how to explain how there is light in that spot otherwise. Definitely a door in that area.

A memory tries to sneak back in, but its forced away, almost involuntarily, given I dont seem to have any control over it. I have the sudden urge to call out. To ask where the fuck I am. But that voice inside my head stops me once again.