The clanging of my tightly fitted handcuffs against the iron bedpost echoed through the house.
Beads of sweat dripped down my withered face onto the silk sheets.
This was no erotic scene- it was a living nightmare.
Fear had surpassed me and exhaustion took over. I wasn’t aware of how long my ordeal had lasted- losing track of the days.
Footsteps up the creaky stairs re ignited my dread- She was back.
Clutching her blood-stained pose and smiling with a menacing grin, I knew I had to overcome my mental block; another night of torture would be too much for me to survive.
“Now Honey, I’ve set your typewriter up, im waitin’ to hear how if Geraldine and Greg run away together” Don’t keep me waitin’ now”
Being kidnapped by a crazed fan and forced to write a sequel is not one of the perks of being a bestselling novelist.