Your Heart Still Beats for Me by Cori Zahara EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Cori Zahara
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Feebee
I woke up cold against the stone floor, my naked body shivering. A dim
light shone from above me, unhidden by no decorative shade. I was in a
room empty of decoration and life, reminiscent of one of those creepy
movies where you would have to cut off your own foot to break free.
But my feet weren’t chained.
It was almost as if the psycho who imprisoned me knew I couldn’t use
them.
My hands pushed me up from the ground, and my head spun, a sideeffect of my gaze bouncing around the corners of this vacant cell.
There was nothing sugar-coating my grim reality.
This was a real-life horror movie, and I was the leading lady.
Stone walls stared back at me, their heaviness feeling closer and closer as
the seconds chipped away at my sanity. I felt them closing in.
My heart began to race, my lungs sucking air in faster than ever as I spied
a lone knife near the door, its blade sharp and ridged.
I guess that limb theory wasn’t so far-fetched after all.
On the far side of the room, was a man. He was propped up against the
wall but unconscious and bound by chains around his wrists. He was lucky
enough to still be in his clothes, though his shirt was torn, and his tie was
loose and dirty. I focused on the fact that he wasn’t wearing shoes and
wondered where they were.
“Hello, Feebee.”
I jumped from my skin, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my
fingers now brushing the area.
“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” the voice boomed, loud
and robotic, from an overhead speaker on the opposite wall of a bright red
light.
The disgust over someone watching me made my stomach roll and made
me more aware of my lack of clothing. Skinny arms shielded me, wrapping
around my breasts and covering my crotch.
I trembled, wishing I could run, when the heavy voice sounded again.
“I’ll tell you. You were the recipient of a heart transplant…”
The voice gave me time to examine the red-ridged scar beneath my
fingers before it proceeded.
“You were never meant to receive that particular organ.”
That particular organ felt ready to give out.
“Hey,” I whispered, trying to get the man’s attention on the other side of
the room. He didn’t budge.
“Hey, wake up,” I pleaded, my voice a little louder. “Please, wake up.”
When the man didn’t answer, didn’t move, barely breathed, my attention
and eyes moved to the camera.
“Can you hear me?” I asked in a meek tone, instantly annoying myself
for not putting on a brave front. That agitation caused me to straighten my
back and lift my chin, causing the blunt cut of my hair to tickle my
shoulders.
“If you can, what the hell do you want? It’s not like I can give it back.” I
hid the tremble of my lower lip from the glaring red light. I found myself
praying this deviant couldn’t actually hear me, as nothing could conceal the
fear in my voice.
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