Chapter 3

FRANKY

My breath comes out in shallow pants as I kneel on the plush carpet, my heart racing with a potent mix of fear and anticipation. The opulent bedroom surrounding me stands in stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind. Dark, ornate walls loom above, adorned with gilded moldings that catch the dim light from crystal chandeliers, their beauty lost on me as I grapple with my decision. The massive bed, draped in rich, black linens, dominates the space—a looming reminder of what awaits me.

My skin still tingles from the thorough bathing I received earlier from one of the maids who came to fetch me from the dungeon. They even fed me—a gesture that felt more like preparation for slaughter than an act of kindness. The scent of expensive soap clings to me, a futile attempt to mask the terror that threatens to overwhelm me. I recall the clinical touch of the doctor who examined me this afternoon, his face impassive as he cleaned my injuries and checked for STDs. The memory mak