Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
My eyes flicker open gradually, and the bright sunlight stings, disorienting me. How long have I been in this bed? I try to move, and Judge’s warm breath blows across my lips as he stills me. He’s so close, lying right beside me, face-to-face. Dark circles color the skin beneath his eyes. Exhaustion hangs heavy in his features, but there’s relief there too.
“It’s okay now,” he murmurs. “I’m here with you.”
I wish I could believe him. When I blink, more tears come, and I’m so tired of crying. But Judge wipes them away with his thumbs, his body moving closer yet. His warmth penetrates me, and I don’t want to like it. I don’t want to be comforted by it. But I can’t bring myself to push him away. Not even when he drags his fingers over my lips like all he wants to do is kiss them, but he knows not to try.
“How long have I been here?” I croak.
“Days,” he answers with a solemn tone.
I don’t understand how that’s possible. I don’t remember sleeping for days. Or drinking. Or going to the bathroom. But I’m clean and in a fresh pair of pajamas when I glance down. And there’s an IV in my hand, the tube leading to a stand next to the bed.
“Have I woken?” I ask.
“At times.” Darkness flashes in his vision like he doesn’t want to recall those moments. “But we’ve been keeping you medicated. You may not remember.”
My eyes drift to his, and I find myself getting lost in them, wondering who he really is. Wondering what he hides from the world. Theron’s words are still fresh in my mind. You don’t know what he’s capable of.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“Because.” He swallows painfully. “I can’t… leave you.”
I want to understand the emotion behind those words, but I can’t. Exhaustion is weighing me down again, pulling me under fast. Judge senses it, and he moves closer, brushing the hair away from my face before his palm settles on my waist.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, his words a sweet lullaby in my ear. “You can sleep now, little monster. I’ll watch over you. You’re safe with me now.”
3
Judge
The door gives easily. It’s why I heard her scream from outside. It wasn’t fully closed, or I wouldn’t have heard her at all. That’s the point of the punishment room. No one to hear you. No one to rescue you.
But he took the lock out. The handle lies on the ground. It’s no longer possible to close it.
The sight that greets me is both something out of the past and a thing that should never, ever have come to pass. Mercedes is here. Mercedes is in the room where my grandfather yielded to the monster inside himself. Where beast overtook man.
She’s bound to the whipping bench. Her body stretched too far. Long limbs not long enough.
Her mouth opens on a scream as Theron’s blow lands, but that scream is caught. Halted. She must hear me and know that I'm here. That I’ve come for her. And for one fleeting but undeniable moment, I see hope in her eyes. Relief.
Then her head drops. Her body jolts as my brother lays down one more stroke across the backs of her thighs and I swear I smell the copper of blood. But maybe that’s an old smell that clings to the walls here. Like his cigars.
I charge him then. With an almighty roar and a rage unleashed, I charge him.
But he’s slow to process because he turns his head to me but remains still. He doesn’t run. Doesn’t raise his arms to protect himself. He just watches with the strangest grin on his face. A look of what? Satisfaction? Satisfaction at what he’s done? Breaking a woman half his size? Or is it satisfaction to see he’s unleashed the beast inside me?
Because at this moment, I am my grandfather.
I take him down, knocking the cane from his hand. He doesn’t fight. Not at first. He laughs this strange, madman’s laugh.
Theron’s head bounces off the floor as we crash down, his body breaking my fall.
“What the hell are you doing?” I trap him beneath my thighs and pound my fist into his jaw so violently that I wonder if I didn’t break it. But there’s that sound again. That laughter.
Unhinged.
Insane.
Inhuman.
He turns his eyes to me and in the dim light I see how dilated his pupils are. See the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the unnatural flush of his cheeks. He looks almost ill.
That could be exertion though. From whipping Mercedes to the point of breaking skin.
So I draw my arm back and smash my fist into his temple this time and I don’t give him a chance to recover before getting up, hauling him to his feet and throwing him against the stone wall.