Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
He tilts his head to the side, releasing his tie from the tight knot around his throat. “Tell me something about Kiznitch that I don’t know.”
I sit back in my chair, rolling my eyes while slipping the opening of my lace robe wide enough to see I’m not wearing a bra. I tap my heel against the bar. “Nothing special. They’re all about family, loyalty, and, oh, you didn’t tell me—” I narrow my eyes on his. “No fucking murder.” Curling my finger at the pretty little barmaid, I continue. “I was bored.”
“Aw come on. I know damn well you found some comfort in two people…”
I chuckle, raising my glass to my lips. “It’s amusing that you think they’re capable of satisfying my appetite.” I turn to face him completely, spreading my legs slightly until his eyes fall. Perfect. “Anything else you want to know?”
“No.” He tosses back the rest of his drink and stands from the stool, straightening his tie. “I did leave you a present in your pen.” He leans into me and kisses my cheek. “You’re welcome.” I watch as he disappears the same way I came, through the small swarm of people and doors.
“Another,” I say, gesturing down to my glass at the bartender. Being a Doll is a sad, lonely life for humans, so they turned our humanity off a long time ago. How?
By using The Pen.
I grip the devil horn pendant around my throat as I make my way down the stairs that lead to The Pen. Twelve. Nothing more, and nothing less. I pause when I reach the white door, sterile and clean.
“I did leave you a present in your pen.”
Grasping the handle, I push it forward and straighten my shoulders. The familiar haunting tune replays over my gag reflex. I force down the bile of memories, keeping my focus directly on the seventh pen—aka—my pen. I’d spend days, weeks, sometimes months in here…
Fourteen years old
They said I was almost ready. Almost. I shook in the corner, my skin cold and exposed. I needed to stop my teeth from chattering. If they heard them, they’d know I wasn’t ready and my punishment would be something worse than what I just endured. Twenty-four hours sitting bare naked on the rooftop. Every time the wind whipped across my skin, it felt like a leather strap slicing me open. It had already been hours since I was brought back in, but I still felt the ghost of death running its pointed finger across my soul.
“Little Doll,” one of the generals said, and I raised my head up to his, biting down on my lip until metallic seeped between my teeth. I had to stop chittering. He slid open the cell door and five men stormed in wearing military-style boots.
I started shaking my head, my heart thundering in my chest. “No! I just came back… please!”
Two picked me up from either side and raised me to my feet. I looked up at them both from hazy eyes.
“Please!” My scream was feral enough to shake the single light bulb that hung above my head.
“No can do, Little Doll. Your training must continue.”
“Okay, just not yet—please!” I never got the chance to think of what I would have been had I been born in a basic life. A doctor? Lawyer? No. All were too mainstream for me. “Please!” They dragged me down the corridor and to the end door, where a circle window sat high.
I froze.
My heartbeat was dangerously close to a flatline. “What are you doing?” I whispered, though it wasn’t to them. It was to me. Whipping my head up to the one on my right, whom I was well acquainted with because he took part in a lot of my sexual training, I screamed until my throat bled, “You know who my dad is! You can’t kill me!” One of the others punched in a code and the door opened. As soon as he did, the weather from outside whisked around me and sang like sirens calling for their sister.
There was laughter in the background as I sank my nails into flesh, spinning around and clawing the eyes of the one who was closest, tearing my nails over his cheek. But it was too late. With a punch to my gut, I was flying out the door with the red alert alarms signaling, and then it was done.
I was falling to the angry ocean below, right in the middle of a whirlpool.
I died that day. Well, at least I thought I did. I sank, then the ocean spat me back out as if not even she wanted me. I swam to the emergency metal ladder on the side of the base and sat for hours, freezing my heart and soul out. Literally.
I would never feel anything again. I would never give them a reason to think they could second-guess me.