My eyes dart to the fireplace, then the hammer, the poker, but all of it is too far.
But I make a run for one anyway.
I don’t get two steps close before his arm swings and the back of his hand cracks across my face like a whip.
White explodes in my skull and I hit the floor hard, pain ripping through my cheek and jaw, the world spinning in and out. He’s already on me, yanking my hair so hard I think he’s trying to rip it out by the root. He lifts my face to his, close enough I can count the cracks in his teeth.
“Know why I killed you, Arabella?” he hisses. “Because I was so obsessed, but your cunt turned out to be a fucking letdown.”
Blood drips down my chin. I can barely see, barely breathe, but I make my eyes find his and I lock in. Not with fear. Just hate.
“No,” I say between breaths, my face throbbing. “You were just shit. You’re weak.”
He suddenly spits in my face, fury snaps through me and I lunge. My thumbs find his eyeballs and I dig in with a loud scream, but he yanks back, grabbing my head in both hands and slamming it against the hard concrete.
The blow cracks through me, my vision blackening, but he’s not done. He lifts his leg and drives his foot into my stomach. The wind is knocked clean out of me, and I groan, body curling as I drop onto my side.
“Ugly,” he seethes.
Kick.
“Little.”
Kick.
“Rat.”
Blood pours from my mouth, rising hot in my throat. My stomach twists in agony, my body writhing across the floor. I feel like I might fucking die by this monster, again.
He suddenly grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking me up, but I can’t stand, my legs are like jelly, so he drags me by my scalp instead.
“Mom never liked you. She wanted to fucking sacrifice your cursed little body so many times.”
Next, I’m forced up against the wall, one arm stretched outward. I’m barely conscious when he drives a nail through my palm, hammering me to the wall. I scream, my body shaking, but I can’t move—his big frame keeps me pinned.
“Luckily for you, she was getting paid not to.” He spits out the words with each strike.
Each strike is white-hot agony, but he doesn’t stop. When he moves onto the next, I try to fight, writhing in any way I can, but as soon as that nail goes in, I cry out—tears streaming down my face.
“We all knew what the fuck you were.”
When both nails are all the way in, my blood trickling steadily onto the floor, I can barely stand while he steps away. My head lowers as he starts to shred my clothes away, piece by piece until I’m completely naked.
As I open my eyes, barely able to breathe, I see the deep purple bruises already forming on my stomach, blood spilling from my mouth, mixing with the spit, dripping down my chin.
I struggle to focus, lifting my dazed eyes to see Zye standing by the fireplace, lifting the poker with a hot, orange tip. His movements are slow as he turns toward me, the glow of the fire reflecting in his eyes. My vision traces in and out, but I’m still aware of every twisted step he takes toward me.
“I’m gonna make your body and your cunt look all burnt up and pretty,” he taunts, his voice dripping with sick satisfaction.
When the poker teases my thigh, I scream, jerking back, but he’s not touching me yet. He’s just fucking playing with me, torturing me the way he always did, always made sure I knew how powerless I was.
“This brings back memories, Arabella,” he murmurs, his voice low as he drags the poker over my skin.
I feel the heat radiating from it, the sting of it threatening to break me, but it never quite touches. Every inch of my body is on fire from his game, and I can feel the blistering burn forming just under the surface.
But then, suddenly, he stops. The ringing of his phone cuts through the thick tension in the room.
He answers the phone like it’s just another fucking call, completely indifferent to the fact that I’m nailed to the wall, suffocating in pain, my body mangled and covered in burns.
