Free Web NovelChapter 191: Chapter 191 The Girl in the Basement
Rosalie’s POV
As I heard the basement door close, every muscle in my body went rigid, my chains rattling against the concrete floor. Even before I saw his face, I knew it was Hugo. The familiar footsteps—my body had been programmed like a lab rat to recognize the signals of his arrival, trained through pain to anticipate what was coming.
My name is Rosalie, though sometimes when he looks at me, I know he’s seeing someone else. Someone named Sylvia.
The bruises covering my body pulsed with fresh agony as I shifted, each one a reminder of my failed escape attempts. Two months in this basement - or had it been three? Time had become meaningless in the darkness, marked only by his visits.
When Hugo first found me, I had been injured and alone. I don’t remember how I got those wounds or where the hell I came from. My memory was - still is - a blank slate with occasional flashes that disappear before I can make sense of them. He told me he saved me, that I was lucky he happened to be there.
"What a coincidence," he had said with that smile that never quite reached his eyes, "you look just like someone I know." freewebnoveℓ.com
I bought it at first. Why wouldn’t I? He was handsome, wealthy, attentive - showing me kindness when I had absolutely nothing, not even memories. But then fragments started returning - disjointed images, feelings that didn’t match the story he’d fed me.
The first time I questioned him about my past, his eyes went black. That night, I got a front-row seat to hell, and I’ve never managed to escape since.
Hugo stepped closer now, his eyes crawling over my barely covered body. The hatred burning through me was so intense I was shocked it didn’t set me on fire.
"What’s with the death glare? Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, amusement dancing in his sick eyes.
With one swift motion, he ripped the gag from my mouth. I gasped, my parched throat screaming as I finally drew in a proper breath.
"What were my parents thinking, being so rough with you?" he said, putting on his fake concerned act as he pulled me against his chest. His dominant energy pressed against me like a crushing weight, making every instinct I had curl up in terror.
His voice dropped to a manipulative whisper. "See what happens when you try to run? All this pain could disappear if you’d just know your place. Why put yourself through this? It breaks my heart to see you like this."
The fake tenderness in his voice made me want to vomit. I gathered what little saliva I had left and spat right in his face.
"Shove your fake concern up your ass!" I rasped, my voice raw from screaming. "Get the hell away from me! I can’t stand looking at your face."
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I was signing up for more torture. My body, already pushed beyond its limits, trembled uncontrollably.
Hugo didn’t even blink. He casually wiped my spit off his cheek, the corners of his mouth lifting into that smile I’d learned to fear more than his fists.
"Seems I’ve been going too easy on you lately. You’ve forgotten who’s in charge here," he said, each word hitting me like ice water.
I couldn’t stop the violent shaking that took over my entire body. My mind knew exactly what was coming. How many times had we done this dance? Me fighting back, him making me pay, then the sick twisted aftercare that somehow hurt worse than the violence.
"You’re a monster," I whispered, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "If you have any shred of human decency left, just kill me and get it over with."
I meant every word. Death seemed like a mercy compared to this living nightmare. I had tried to end it myself - using broken glass, torn sheets, even trying to crack my skull against the wall. Each time, he’d stopped me. Each time, the punishment got worse.
And always, always after breaking me, came his twisted version of care - gentle hands treating wounds he’d created, soft words of concern about the marks from my suicide attempts, as though he wasn’t the reason they existed.
"My sweet Sylvia," he would call me, using that name that wasn’t mine, "you’re my precious treasure. How could I ever let you die?"
Now, he leaned in close, pressing his body against mine like a predator. The chains cut into my wrists as I tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to run. His breath was hot against my neck.
"I’m not Sylvia," I whispered, one last desperate attempt to hold onto myself. "My name is Rosalie."
SMACK! His hand cracked across my face like a whip. "Slaves don’t get to choose their own names."
The burning pain reminded me to shut my mouth—my defiance would only fuel his next round of violence. I stopped struggling, mechanically waiting for him to finish using me.
Later, after he was done destroying me, Hugo unchained me and led me to his car. He drove us to some isolated villa I’d never seen before.
"Not even my parents know about this place," he said proudly, as if sharing a romantic secret instead of revealing another prison.
He guided me to the master bedroom, his hand possessive on my back. "You’ll stay here. Don’t even think about running. Every move you make is being watched. I’ll never let you go."
Something inside me finally shattered completely. The last spark of hope that had somehow survived these months of hell flickered and died. My shoulders sagged in total defeat.
Hugo noticed. His smile grew wider as he reached out to stroke my cheek with that fake tenderness I’d grown to hate.
"There’s my good girl. Now go clean yourself up and get some rest. Stop overthinking everything." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
I walked toward the bathroom, naked and broken, feeling his gaze burning holes in my back. The weight of his stare felt like physical assault, and I heard his footsteps following behind me.
As I stepped into the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—a skeleton with hollow eyes staring back. I barely recognized myself. Was this really Rosalie? Or was I becoming the Sylvia he wanted me to be?
I didn’t have time to figure it out. The bathroom door opened, and Hugo’s reflection appeared in the mirror behind me, his eyes dark with hunger.
The monster was ready to torture me again.
