Oh God.
Oh dear fucking God, no.
My eyes squeeze shut at the sound of his voice. It’s the only movement my body allows. I can’t breathe, can’t form words, can’t scream at my muscles to work as I stare up at the face who caused all of this.
The sick, twisted smile gleaming down at me causes everything to play in speed behind my eyes. It’s the clearest I’ve ever had the flashback, to the point it feels like I’m reliving it.
My skin itches, like clammy hands are groping their way all over it, my throat tightening as the vomit rushes its way up.
Saint’s voice whispers in my mind. I try to grab at it, hold on to it before the horror drags me away and debilitates me with fear.
But it’s too late.
Conrad’s hands are already on me, dragging me to my feet and throwing me against the wall. My reactions are too slow and sluggish from the paralysis of fear that has its claws sunk into me.
His body is already crushing mine into the damp concrete wall, and my eyes burn with unshed tears as he presses into me from behind.
I want you here with me. Listen to my voice. I’ve got you. You’re not in the Archives.
The first tear rolls down my cheek.
“Causing me some problems since we last met, haven’t you,Indie darling.”
My voice thins to a broken whisper. “Don’t call me that.”
I slump as he moves away, but then I’m whipped round and the weight is replaced against my font. His fingers dig painfully into my face as he forces me to look into his sick, darkening eyes. “Have you been trying to hide from me, Indie? A little birdy told me you’re the one I should have been hunting for all this time. You’ve no idea how happy it makes me that my prize was already down here waiting for me. Even better that it’s you.”
I spit on his face, baring my teeth as my body struggles in his hold, the fight mode finally kicking in. Though my strength is no use, the anxiety is still firmly holding me back; my struggle only makes his eyes grow wilder, and as much as my mind tells me to stop giving him what he wants, I can’t.
I need to fight, the same way I would have all those years ago if he hadn’t drugged me.
You will never experience that again, do you hear me?
The exhaustion, the dehydration, and the concussion I’m battling weakens me to the point I may as well have been drugged.
“You cost me a lot of money, Indie. Billions of dollars in fact.” His hand fists against my hoodie, slamming me down on the hard concrete floor as I smack right onto my back.
The wind is knocked from my lungs, and I choke and splutter when he straddles me, pinning my arms to my side. “Unfortunately for you, money or death isn’t the repayment I want. You’re going to get a taste of what your life was supposed to be like.”
I feel his hand slide down my chest, grabbing my belt and trying to undo it. The scream that rips from my throat tears it apart.
I’d give my life if it meant you’d never come to harm again.
“Conrad. Stop.”
His hand freezes, and the room drops deathly silent. The tension rises to the point it feels like ice has seeped through the walls. “Mind your place, Louisa.”
My sister stutters, “Th-This isn’t—”
Conrad leaps off me towards Louisa, standing toe to toe with her as he stares down at her in her menacing form. “Remember who you’re talking to. I’ve had to punish you twice now, or do you like it when you have to bury family members?”
I freeze, gaze darting from her to him. “What does he mean by that?”
Louisa doesn’t answer me. Instead, she warily takes a step back from him.
“What the fuck does he mean, Louisa?!” My voice breaks as I raise it.
He can’t mean what I think he does.
