Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Deep breaths. In and out. Deep breaths bring me back to her.
When I flick the monitors back to life, to see what my little songbird is doing, she’s already asleep.
It’s been so long since these memories have haunted me, but they come back slowly as I turn off the lights in her cell.
Memories that made me. Memories she’s a part of, even if she doesn’t know.
The memory of the day I learned who Talvery was and what fear could really do to a person.
There comes a point when it doesn’t matter what the last punch broke or how much blood you’ve lost. It’s a point where you can’t feel anything anymore.
Your vision is blurry, and you know death is so close that you pray for it. It’s the only thing that will take it all away.
Nothing makes sense. Even as my head snaps back and more warmth bubbles from my mouth, the pain is nothing. And knowing the end is near, it provides a comfort. The chains holding me to the chair fade away and I can hardly feel them digging into my skin.
But even in all of that, she meant something. I knew it instantly. She had the strength to destroy the hope that it would all end soon.
Her small fists banged on the door that was so close but so far away.
Her voice called out and broke through the fog of reality.
I couldn’t hear what she screamed, but it was something so urgent, her father put down the wrench. I remember the heavy metallic sound of it falling onto the floor mixing with her sweet feminine pleas for him to help her through the closed door.
I was so close to everything being over, and she saved me. Even if she doesn’t remember it. She never even saw me.
It took years before I let myself think of her again. And of that day.
I almost had an out. I was so close to leaving this life a good soul. Maybe not pure, not perfect, but a better man than I am now and an innocent soul.
She’s the reason I lived and turned into this.
I don’t just want her at my mercy.
I want everything she has.
I’m not going to stop until I have her and her everything.
Chapter 12
Aria
* * *
I think it’s been two days since Cross changed the rules. If I’m right, it’s been almost two weeks since I’ve been here. And two full days of not eating anything.
I refuse to eat from his fingers like a dog. I’m not his pet. The way he looks at me like he’d wish for nothing more than for me to kneel between his legs and accept each morsel is riddled with both desire for me and desire for power over me. The combination is heady, and it plays tricks with my mind. I’m addicted to the hunger in his eyes but I’m afraid of what’s to come if I give in.
I don’t want to submit and kneel in front of him. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Each ache I have reminds myself of this. As the loneliness stretches and the boredom makes me wonder if I’m going crazy, I have to remind myself. It’s always a reminder.
The thoughts make my breathing heavy and my stomach rumble. The sickening part of all of this is that I’m looking forward to him opening the door. I want him to come in tonight like he did last night and the night before. With a silver platter of temptation.
I’m starving and I know I have to give in. I know I will at some point. He’s right. I will eat. I’m already praying for him to open the door, even as I curse him and clench my hands into fists, swearing I’ll be strong enough to refuse him.
He’s going to win. I can feel it.
I’m praying for him to come, so I can have something to eat. Whatever he brings, if he were to come right now, I’d accept. No matter how much I wish it weren’t true. I would do anything to eat right now. To eat anything at all.
My eyes lift from the ground to the door as it creaks open. I don’t lift my head and I stay on the dirty ground, stiff and unmoving.
I can feel his eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. The only thing that holds my attention is the tray balanced in his right hand and held at his chest. I can’t see what’s on it yet, but I can smell it.
My eyes close slowly and I nearly groan from the sugary scents that flood my lungs. When I finally open my eyes, cued by the sound of him moving the chair across the floor and closer to me, I see it all. I see the tasty treats that will be responsible for my pathetic undoing.