Celeste sat stiffly on the edge of a chair. She pressed her knees together and gazed at the image staring back at her from the vanity mirror. Her blond hair was tangled, but her scalp hurt too much to use a hair brush. The stained yellow flowers on the floral Victorian paper in the background accentuated the bruises that oozed beneath her skin like puddles, spreading slowly with each passing hour.
When she removed the top from a tube of Lidocaine and gingerly spread the ointment over her wrists, she winced, but she remained silent as the ointment bit into the rope abrasions. There was no way she would let the bastard witness her pain. That would be just one more way he controlled her, and Celeste wasn"t about to give in to any man. Especially to Louis Santos.
Louis lit two cigarettes, go
