Book 2, Chapter 24: Submit

**Madison**

“Ugh my head!” I moaned out. I buried my head in my pillow, seeking comfort in the cooling silk sheet of Damien’s bed. But the pillow was not soft. It was scratchy and stiff. The cloud-like fluff was not cushioning my head like I had become accustomed to. I slowly opened my eyes, and they widened in shock when I noticed I was not in Damien’s room. Our room.

A soft amber light came from a tiny lamp next to me that illuminated the room. The room was tiny. It was just big enough to fit the twin-size bed I was lying on, the side table with the little lamp, and a chair at the foot of the bed. The mattress was luckily covered in a white sheet, but it was starchy and coarse. The walls were painted black; there were no windows and a thick wooden door with a small speak-easy cutout on the opposite wall. My hands were above my head, but when I moved them, they were restrained.

I strained my neck to see two leather cuffs wrapped around my wrists and connected securely to a metal bedframe.

“What the fuck!” I muttered to myself as I pulled on the cuffs. I became frustrated with the situation very quickly. My wrists were now throbbing in tandem with my head. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. "Damien! This isn’t funny, you bastard!” I screamed in frustration. Silence was the response. “You’ve had your fun, Damien. Now let me out of here…” I tried screaming again. Still no response.

Something wasn’t sitting right. My gut was telling me that this was not a joke. As I stared at the blank black wall, my thoughts were exploding with scenarios. At one point, I chuckled, thinking about all the romance novels I had read, and I thought I was in one of those novels. This is such a cliché setup – the damsel is locked away in chains by the big bad arrogant mafia man only to fall in love with him, and another jealous, pompous, asshole mafia man decides to use the girl. Ha! Like that happens in real life…

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard clanking sounds at my door. I heard several locks clicking open. I waited with bated breath as the door creaked open. My heart was hammering in my chest. The door swings open, and there are two large men I had never seen before in the doorframe. They look like biker men with suits, scraggly beards and all. Their faces are masked. Despite my pleas, they don’t say anything, as if my words were falling on deaf ears. They walk over to me and begin to untie my restraints.

“Please, this is a mistake. I didn’t do anything, please!” I beg. They ignore my protests, grabbing my arms in iron-clad grips and ushering me out the door. The hallway is plain and eerie; a strong smell of decay assaults my nose. The men drag me through several corridors like an underground maze. Halls with closed doors become open rooms with bars, a lonely prison of despair.

I hear harrowing screams down the hall; pleas of mercy from men and women once again fall on deaf ears as we pass them. My fighting is futile; they grip me tighter the more I fight.

Soon, we entered a room. It was all black except for the silver-covered drain in the middle of the floor and the steel operating table off to the side. In the middle of the room, there was also a large black container that could be the size of a bathtub, covered with a cloth. There was a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

One of the men leaves my arm to walk to the other side, returning moments later with silver cuffs and a choker. I struggled against them as they pinned my hands behind my back to cuff them so tight that I felt the metal scraping my skin, and my fingers were going to be numb shortly. The choker was placed around my neck. It constricted my airway just enough to make me uncomfortable; I was itching to loosen it.
The men then forced me to the center of the room and pushed me down on my knees. I grunt loudly as my knees hit the concrete with force; that is going to leave a bruise for sure.

Another figure appeared in the shadow. He, too, was masked. He stayed in the shadows, so I could not see all of his features. “What the fuck do you want?” I yelled. But he just stayed silent.

“You will pay for this. Damien will find you and kill you,” I tried again. The only response was a deep, dark chuckle. Even the goons behind me started to chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart, you are so cute to think anyone is going to save you,” one of the goons said.

This shadow man flicked his hand, and one of the men behind me removed the container's cover in front of me. The reveal had me gulping; my resolve to escape this situation is now tenfold.

“Let me go, you sick bastard!” I screeched, fighting against the restraints. “Never. You belong to me, and no one will get in my way. You will learn to submit to me,” he whispered.

The burly man beside the container wheeled it closer to my shaking form. The man behind me had a tight grip on my shoulder, pinching my neck. I continued to struggle when I saw in the corner of my eye shadow man pulled something from his pocket. “NO!” I screamed as I felt an electric current center around my neck, sending pain through every nerve of my body. I continued to convulse while the goon holding me just chuckled. The shocks stopped, and I felt like my whole body was burning. I gasped for breath.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t given very long to recuperate, as the goon behind me grabbed a fist full of my hair before forcing my head down into the container… of ice water.

My head was fully submerged in the icy slosh of pain. The cold liquid filled my lungs, burning like fire. The last of my breath used to scream under the liquid barrier. I felt like I was fading, my body succumbing to the darkness, only for my head to be yanked back. I began to cough out the water in droves. My own little lake from my lungs expelled from my body. I gasp loudly as air burns in my chest.

The fuckers are waterboarding me. I am panting heavily, wheezing as my lungs cannot grasp a full breath of much-needed air. Strands of my hair are stuck to my face.

“Submit.” It was the only word from the shadow man. “Fuck you,” I spit out.

All that earned me was another round in the tub of ice water. Once more, I teetered on the precipice of eternal darkness when I was pulled up so the breath of life could once more pierce my heart and soul. I expelled the micro-ocean once more from my lungs, coughing and wheezing. My head felt light, my vision was fuzzy, and my body was weak.

“Submit,” the shadow man commanded.

“If you step into the light, maybe you can look at my hand… THAT’S FLIPPING YOU OFF! GO TO HELL, YOU FU…” I rasped out before my head was once more shoved under the water.
Three more forceful pushes into the ice bath of hell. Two more shocks from the collar of electric “fuck my life” and five more “go to hell” to the shadow man pass by, and I find the strength each time somewhere in the depths of my soul to continue to thrash against the strength holding me down. My body is numb. I continue to cough up waterfalls; the only thoughts that I care to entertain are one word: “Damien.”

“Submit,” the voice said. It was distorted. “Never.”

I was falling into the darkness, my lungs burning as the water burst inside like a sinking ship, slowly taking me deep into the unknown abyss once more. This time, though, I was not pulled up and began falling off that cliff.

“Madison…” I swear I heard my name being called, a mere whisper, yet it invited me to follow it through the darkness. I found renewed strength to fight with one more breath as the thick liquid swallowed me whole. “Madison…” I barely heard it again as I slowly closed my eyes, feeling the last of my breath being stolen by the liquid fire, welcoming death like an old friend.

“MADISON!” I opened my eyes in haste, jerking upright and taking a large gulp of air, feeling life flow into my body. I was no longer submerged in the icy waters of doom. I look over to see Damien on his knees next to me, looking scared. I moved my hands to see they were no longer restrained in irons. I rubbed my eyes to find my face wet with hot tears, my body covered in a cold sweat. Damien immediately cradled me against his toned, naked chest.

“It was just a bad dream,” he whispered. “You’re safe,” he repeated as he kissed my head. I let the dam break and sobbed into his embrace. He didn’t let me go. He was my safe space. My home. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread coming. Was it really just a dream?