The Tourist (Sold #1)

28. The Sister – Chapter One

SERENA

I ’ve lost track of time.

Days, weeks, months, they blend together in an endless abyss of suffering. I am weak, so weak. I haven't eaten in days. The hunger gnaws at me, but it’s the least of my worries.

A damp dungeon is my prison. A cold cell with stone walls that feel like they’re closing in on me. Rats scurry across the floor, their presence a grim reminder that I am not alone in this hell. There’s a bucket in the corner, my only means of relief, and the stench is overwhelming. Sleep never comes for me. Every time I close my eyes, nightmares plague me—visions of pain, of despair, of death. Of Richard Armstrong as he took my virginity and laughed the entire time.

I’ve given up hope of being rescued. I used to dream of my brother bursting through the door, saving me from this nightmare, but those dreams have faded, replaced by the harsh reality of my situation. No one is coming for me. I’m alone. Richard Armstrong won. He broke me.

I tried to end it once. I found a sharp piece of metal and slashed my wrists, hoping to escape this torment. But they found me, revived me, and now I have scars as permanent reminders of my failure, of my weakness. My wrists burn with the memory, a constant ache that matches the burns covering my body. They use cigarettes to torment me, pressing the hot tips into my flesh, branding me with their cruelty.

Footsteps echo down the corridor, and my heart clenches with fear. He’s coming. My torturer. A sadistic man with a scarred face, his eyes devoid of any humanity. He takes pleasure in my pain, in my suffering. I was sold to the highest bidder, a man who paid two million dollars for me because of who I am, ‘The Sister’. The sign is pinned to my prison door so I don’t forget.

The door creaks open, and he steps inside, his presence filling the room with an icy chill.

“Hello, Serena,” he says, his voice a twisted mockery of kindness. “Did you miss me?”

I don’t respond. I’ve learned that silence is my only refuge, my only means of defiance. But it never stops him. He approaches, his eyes raking over my body, taking in my fragile state with satisfaction.

“You look terrible,” he says, crouching down to my level. “Have you not been eating? Tsk, tsk. You need to keep your strength up.”

His hand reaches out, brushing against my cheek, and I flinch away, the touch burning like acid. He laughs, a sound that sends shivers down my spine.

“You’re so fragile, Serena. So breakable.”

He stands, and pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he lights it. The smell of smoke fills the room, making my stomach churn. He takes a long drag, then presses the tip against my arm, the searing pain making me cry out despite myself.

“There it is,” he says, his voice filled with satisfaction. “That’s the sound I love to hear.”

I bite my lip, trying to hold back my sobs. I can’t give him the satisfaction. But the pain is too much. It’s always too much.

“Why are you doing this?” I manage to whisper.

He crouches down again, his face inches from mine.

“Because I can,” he says simply. “Because you’re nothing. Just a pawn in a game that’s much bigger than you.”

Tears spill down my cheeks, and he wipes them away. “There, there. Don’t cry, Serena. It will all be over soon.”

He stands and walks to the door, pausing to look back at me. “Don’t try anything foolish again. Next time, I won’t bother reviving you.”

The door slams shut, and I’m alone once more. I curl up on the cold, hard floor, my body racked with sobs.

I’ve lost hope.

I’ve lost everything.

I wonder if he ever thinks of me.

Does he even remember me?