Helplessness

"Marjstor," I scoff.

"He will be your master, and you will do as he says," he answers, hitting me across the face once more. He hits me in the same spot as before, the pain deepening and throbbing.

This man is a maniac, and I don't have plans to make anyone my master. As though he sees the defiance in my eyes, he grips my arms tighter. I spit and my blood splatters across his face.

He smirks and I try not to show my fear as he uses one hand to wipe some of the blood that is still trickling from my mouth. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks the blood from them. A low rumble of satisfaction comes from him, and my stomach churns with nausea and uneasiness.