Page 13 of Maddening Fixation

It flooded into my left eye, swallowing my vision beneath a curtain of crimson.

At the same time, razor-sharp shards of glass tore across my cheek and brow, ripping through skin with merciless precision until I could feel warm blood pouring from a dozen fresh wounds.

The room lurched violently.

My legs gave out beneath me.

I hit the polished floor on my knees, one hand bracing against the marble while the other flew instinctively to my face.

My fingers came away slick with blood.

I could no longer see clearly through my left eye.

Everything beyond it dissolved into a hazy blur of crimson and shadow, the pain so fierce it felt as though molten glass had been driven into my skull.

That was the moment my left eye was forever damaged.

But even then...

The agony consuming my face was nothing compared to the one tearing through my chest.

My family didn’t believe me.

Not one of them.

Every desperate word I spoke in my own defense fell on deaf ears. Every plea was met with suspicion.

Every explanation was dismissed before it had even been heard.

I wasn’t just being accused.

I had already been condemned.

By the very people who were supposed to protect me.

Grandfather Flynn didn’t so much as glance at Uncle Seamus for striking me. He offered no reprimand. No command for him to stand down. No concern for the blood pouring down my face.

Nothing.

He simply looked at me.

With the same expression worn by everyone else in the room.

Disdain.

Contempt.

A hatred so complete it left no room for doubt.

In that moment, I understood something prison would only later confirm.

The deepest wounds are never carved by enemies.

They’re inflicted by family.

I had grown up listening to their hatred.

Now they unleashed it without restraint.