November 1st, 2021
They’d strapped Nessa to an uncomfortable chair, after giving her a clean set of clothes. The room had an obnoxiously bright fluorescent light that accented the concrete-mirror structure of the room with something that felt like despair. From one prison to another, at least these clothes are comfortable, I suppose. After the soldier had knocked her out, she’d woken up in what appeared to be a hospital, but the doctor there wouldn’t answer her questions as he performed his various examinations and blood tests. Apparently, something in her tests had made whoever these people were decide to keep her alive, for now.
A few moments passed before the white painted door opened. A man in an expensive looking black suit walked in, smiling. His strong jaw was accentuated by his grey eyes, his grey-black hair, and a grey five o’clock shadow. Enthusiastically, he asked “So! What’s it like being the daughter of the infamous Donovan Sullie!”
Confused, Nessa responded “Who? I don’t have a father sir.”
The man looked up, pursed his lips while jutting his jaw forward, feigning a thoughtful expression. Looking back to Nessa, he said “Well, you seem polite, but I’m not sure I believe you. Obviously, you were in quite the predicament when we found you, but I still can’t believe Sullie would sell his own daughter without a good reason. What’d you do to piss him off?” Who the fuck is this arrogant piece of shit?
Annoyed, Nessa repeated “I don’t know a Donovan Sullie. Where am I?”
The man’s smile curled, cruelly, as he said “As a whore, strapped to a seat, do you really think you’re the one who gets to ask questions? Now I’m going to have my best two boys down here tomorrow morning to get the truth out of you, no matter what you say now. Honestly, I just wanted to meet you to see if Donovan would even want you back, which he clearly, does not.”
As the man turned to leave, Nessa shouted “You act all posh, but I know you, you’re just another fucking coward, hiding behind money while you abuse children, pretending you’re a real man. Scum.”
The man paused, and called over his shoulder “Now I know how that gutted corpse got in your room. I like that fiery spirit, do me a favor, never lose it, Nessa. You may refer to me as Governor Haskell, of the state of Massachusetts.” What the fuck?
Next Chapter: https://bluebeard-art.com/chapter-eighteen/