The next day, April arrived at the apartment, her appearance different from before. She looked gaunt, her cheekbones sharply defined, and her eyes hollow, shadowed by dark circles. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as though each step required great effort. Despite having been properly fed for the past two days since Dominic ordered her release, the effects of five months of deprivation of both food and water were still painfully evident. Her clothes hung loosely on her fragile frame, and her voice, when she spoke, was raspy and weak.
Dominic gestured for April to sit on the couch. She lowered herself gingerly onto the plush cushion, wincing slightly as she did so.
"April Anderson," Dominic began, his tone gentle yet firm, "I remember when I first saw you at that strip club at Luminaris. You were 17, I believe, sold to that dirty strip club."
April's eyes widened slightly, her voice a mere whisper, "You remember that?"
