The world went black. I couldn’t see anything. But I could feel them on me; Ville’s hands pinning me down. Sylvia’s tongue sliding up my legs. His fingers dug into my knees, pressing them into the concrete. I screamed as he pushed on the break in my patella.
I screamed again, my head careening from left to right. Sylvia’s fat tongue reached the apex of my thighs. I kicked and thrashed and pulled my arms in Ville’s hold, but I couldn’t get free; his strength wasunmatched.
I couldn’t fight. I could only scream.
A sound boomed through the room, a scream to rival mine. Ville let his grip loosen, and I sat up to see the light in the room return as the jacket fell from my face.
I didn’t focus on the noise, too terrified by my situation.
A new scent oozed into the room, something that hadn’t leaked from any cavity of my body. Blood, vomit, urine, feces lay around us. But all I could smell was the scent of forestry that surrounded me, reminding me of the fresh air I’d been denied.
Reminding me of my stolen freedom.
Reminding me of Woodrow.
Sylvia was pulled from between my legs, his tongue still protruding like the venomous snake he was.
A skinny arm wrapped around Sylvia’s throat, blood spurting from his mouth as the distance between us grew.
Ville’s hands rubbed at my arms as I backed up, and he pulled me into him. His chest suffocated me as he locked around me. His fingers weaved through my hair, guiding me into a loving lie—pretending he cared.
I pushed away from his wifebeater, wet with sweat.
“Get away from me,” I stuttered.
“Come on, darlin’, I know you’re scared. It’s okay now. It’s okay. I got you.” His fingers smoothed me again, and I responded exactly like he’d taught me to. Like an unloving pet, growling and snarling, with spit flying out of my mouth.
The whole room vibrated with anger. Mine. Ville’s, as he held it all back, and Hell’s, as he did the opposite.
Scanning around the room, I searched for him. He’d dragged Sylvia into the shadows.
I tried to drag myself forward, edging only inches before Ville was on me, pulling me back into his chest.
I listened to the whispers in the distance. Full of hate and violence. And they echoed in my head like the sound of insanity.
“I didn’t say you could touch her. You don’t get to do that.”
“I’m sorry.” A blood-spilling gurgle spat from Sylvia’s mouth, staining the concrete floor, already as much red as it was gray, from my own injuries.
“Too late.” Hell spoke calmly, twisting the long kitchen knife he was rupturing Sylvia’s organs with. “Now, you don’t get to touch her, think about her, dream about her. Did Daddy dearest not warn you that I’d be mad?”
I could see Hell’s face over Sylvia’s shoulder, watching me through the darkness. I didn’t pull my eyes away from the pretty psychopath as he pulled the knife out and pushed it back into Sylvia’s body repeatedly like he was fucking it with the blade.
“The minutes you lived that you didn’t deserve to, will be taken off another scumbag’s life.” Hell’s eyes were on his father when he made that deadly promise.
The blade, silver like his pretty eyes, reflected in the minimal light, showing me enough as it was dragged across Sylvia’s throat.
Sylvia’s body slumped to the floor, and I stupidly found myself wondering if anyone would eat him now that he was dead.
The blade moved closer to me, blood dripping to the floor.
I looked up, feeling a mix of emotions as Hell zoned in. Not one of those feelings was remorse for the man lying dead a few feet away. He was going to rape me. Hurt me. Kill me. Eat me and my baby.
I was glad he was fucking dead.
Hell's blade lifted my downcast chin, and Sylvia's blood, touching my skin, had me jumping as if it burned more than the acid that scarred me.
“Well, look at all these pretty scars, doll. Tut, tut. I wonder what caused them.”
