311
~Belinda's POV
When I opened my eyes, my whole body ached. My back felt sore, my legs heavy, and my head was pounding. I blinked a few times before I could even sit up. The smell of damp stone hit me first, cold, sharp, and dirty. Then it hit me.
I was in prison.
I sat up slowly, my body shaking as I leaned on the wall. My arm burned a little, but when I looked down, I saw it had been cleaned and wrapped with a torn piece of cloth. My heart skipped. Someone had touched me, helped me.
Then I turned to my right.
He was sitting there. My father.
"Father…" my voice came out low, hoarse, like I hadn't spoken for days.
He didn't say anything. He just looked at me with those eyes I had known all my life, now filled with disappointment, pain, and something I couldn't name. His face was pale, his lips cracked, and there were bruises all over his arms. His shirt was torn, and his hands were trembling slightly.
"Father…" I whispered, my voice shaking. "It's me. It's Belinda."
