Mylittle sinning doll.
That’s what he had said. That I was his doll. I couldn’t break the rules, but we were alone. He had said that. No cameras, no lights, no anything. Just us.
But what if he was lying?
Would Thomas kill me then?
If I didn’t fear death, why would I fear this?
I had to obey the rules, right? And right now, the rules were that he was in charge.
Every muscle in my body tightened, my toes flexing, my heart racing, my breathing picking up.
Just one answer. Even if he was lying, they wouldn’t be able to pick it up on the cameras, I was sure.
Very slowly, as the roaring grew deafening in my ears, I felt the finger on my right hand slowly lift up and then drop, everything in my body screaming for it not to do it.
I immediately felt terrible. I felt as if I had betrayed Thomas all over again. As if I had ruined us again. The hollowness grew in my stomach, the cracks in my stone heart closing up, shielding my real heart from the world. I couldn’t believe I just did that. Why did I do that?
“I can see that brings you a great deal of pain,” he said. “Good. Habits like these must be broken. Do you understand the first thing I said?”
I wracked my racing mind, thinking back through everything he had said since walking into this room.
“In this room, you are mine.”
The stone hadn’t reformed all the way when another crack exploded across it, revealing my glowing red heart. I was his in this room. Only his.
I lifted my trembling finger and dropped it again, the motion painful and slow.
“Obedient little pet,” he hummed, a warmth sliding over my skin. “Did he cut you because of what Mr. Bastrom did?”
Telling others of what my betrothed did to me was against the rules. I was his to treat however he pleased.
But in this room, I was Azrael’s. I was protected by the walls, by the locked door. I had to answer. I wanted to.
I lifted a shaking finger and wrapped it back around the cane tightly. It felt just as good as it did horrible. I felt air rushingthrough me at high speeds, and while a part of me reveled in that feeling, another part of me felt sick.
This was wrong.
No, it was right.
“Is it infected?”
Infected? I kept my finger down. I didn’t think so. I kept it clean, I was sure.
He waited for a count of three Mississippi’s. “You aren’t allowed television, computers, or phones, but you do have books. I know someone in this church gave you a basic medical book. Did you not think to look the information up?”
I did look it up. All it said to do was pray.
Azrael was quiet. I wondered what he was thinking. If he believed that I was as dumb as they thought I was. I hoped not. I wanted to keep doing this. If I was here, then I wasn’t with Mr. Bastrom or Mr. Alascer.
I was here. Only here.
Finally, he said, “Did all it suggest was for you to pray?”
I lifted and dropped my finger, feeling the motion all the way down to my elbow. I hadn’t eaten hardly a thing in the last two weeks. I hadn’t communicated with anyone in years. Everything felt far more difficult than it should have been.
“Interesting.” The cane shifted a bit and then I heard the sound of a little clasp releasing, a moment later, there was a click, as if something was being closed. “Tick tock goes the clock, even for this session,” he hummed almost to himself. “When you get back to wherever your hovel is, I want you to bare the injury, gently wash it out with cool water and a small amount of soap, use tweezers to pick away whatever pieces of infection you can, and clean it again.
