Page 61 of Hellebore

“This is not Briar. I’m calling the cops.”

I smirk. Let her. No one will ever find this place. Hellebore is hours from everything, buried deep in the woods where the world ends.

It’s almost morning. I watched her all night through the cameras.

She cried until her voice broke. She screamed until her throat was raw. She kicked the heavy wooden door until her foot bruised and bled. And every single second of it fed the darkness inside me.

She really believed there would be no consequences for her recklessness.

I stand, grab the small bag, and descend into the basement. The stone stairs are cold beneath my boots. The single oil lamp flickers as I approach her cell, casting long, trembling shadows that look like reaching hands.

I unlock the door and push it open without a word.

She jumps violently, scrambling backward until her back hits the stone wall. A small, terrified scream escapes her before she slaps a hand over her mouth.

“Where were you?” she cries, it comes out hoarse. “You left me here⁠—”

“I told you this was your punishment,” I say softly, stepping inside and closing the heavy door behind me with a final, echoing clang.

The second the lock clicks, she bolts, trying to run past me for the door. I’m faster. My arm snakes around her waist and yanks her back against my chest. She kicks wildly, screaming, but I hold her easily, her smaller body thrashing against mine.

“Bad, bad girl,” I murmur against her ear. “Now I really need to punish you.”

I drop her onto the cold stone floor. She crawls desperately to the far corner, pressing herself against the wall, eyes wide with terror.

I open the bag slowly and pull out one perfect black hellebore bloom. The petals are velvety and dark, glistening faintly in the lamplight.

“You won’t kill me,” she breathes, staring at the flower.

I smile, slow and cruel. “No. I won’t. And that scares you even more, doesn’t it?”

I step closer. “Stand up, Briar.”

She hesitates, trembling. I tilt my head.

“Stand. Up.”

She rises on shaky legs, back pressed to the stone. I close the distance until I’m towering over her. My fingers find the hem of her hoodie and pull it up slowly, exposing her pale skin inch by inch. She shivers as the cold air kisses her.

Her breasts rise and fall rapidly with each panicked breath, nipples hardening in the chill. I toss the hoodie away and lift the hellebore, brushing it, feather-light across the swell of one breast. The petals barely touch her skin.

She gasps, body jerking.

“So sensitive,” I murmur, dragging the flower lower, circling her nipple with the softest graze. “One hard touch… and this beautiful skin would turn red. Burning. Like fire under your flesh.”

I move the bloom to her other breast, tracing the curve, watching her flinch and tremble.

“Hellebore is a cruel flower,” I continue, sounding almost loving. “It can stop your heart. It can make you vomit until your insides tear. It can fill your mind with nightmares so vivid you beg for death. Some say it opens the veil between this world and the next… lets the dead whisper to you while you’re still breathing.”

I drag the petals slowly down her stomach, stopping just above the waistband of her sweatpants. Her entire body is shaking now, breath coming in short, terrified gasps.

“And yet,” I lean in until my masked mouth brushes her ear, “I could crush this flower against your cunt and rub it into your clit until you scream. The pain would be exquisite. The fear even better.”

A broken sob escapes her. Tears slip down her cheeks.

“Behave, my love,” I murmur, brushing a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “Because next time I won’t be this gentle.”

“You’re insane,” she whimpers softly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.