Page 6 of Scars Run Deep

“What are—”

The glint of metal caught my eye a second before a cuff slapped to my wrist.

With a brutal jolt, she shoved me into the stairs, and then the other cuff was locked around the banister, confining me to it.

She darted back out of my reach as I bolted forward roaring and trying to rip myself free.

“Don’t fucking do this!”

She pulled up short, her hand on the door.

But it was all too brief before she threw it open and walked out.

“Son of a bitch!” I bellowed, my irate voice tearing through the safehouse.

2

~Asher~

Six Years Ago

All that existed was pain.

It was all that I was.

All that I was allowed to be.

“Weakness won’t be tolerated,” my father’s voice rang out.

In my barely-conscious state, I was only vaguely aware of his footsteps surrounding me.

And then he was there, grasping my hair and yanking my head back, forcing my heavy-lidded gaze to his. “Those stripes on your back are nothing. Yet there you were screaming like a little bitch. You should be able to take a whipping by now, boy. Beg for my forgiveness. Beg me to wash away your sin of weakness.”

“N-o… no… begging.”

“Hmm, good answer. That was a trick. A Monroe doesn’t beg, son.” He released my hair roughly, then tugged on the chains binding my arms taut above my head, making my whole body jolt. He kicked at my ankles that were bound to the floor with just enough room for me to brace my feet on the floor so my arms didn’t have to bear my full weight. The kick ripped them out from under me and I cried out as my arms were yanked painfully, my bloodied and torn up back taking the strain too.

I’d only just managed to fix my feet back into place to alleviate it when his voice rang out again in a chilling tone, “That cry has just cost you more lashes. For every sound of pain you make, you’ll earn more punishment.”

He walked around in front of me, flashing the whip.

Sadistic excitement flared in his eyes as he aimed it at my groin only shielded by a pair of black sweatpants.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

But the strike never landed.

He laughed nastily, then pulled it away.

“I can’t do damage there. You’re my heir, needed to continue our line. Come on, son, what do you take me for?”

A savage, demented monster.

The fucking devil incarnate.

“Now, let’s try this again,” he said, walking back behind me again.

I felt the whip cut through the air, the usual crack sounding a second before it connected, biting deeper into already broken skin, the pain like acid being poured on open wounds.

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