Page 40 of Of Gods and Pain

I shake my head, turning off the scalding water and stepping into a towel. I need to think of something else because now that I have full access to all of my nerves, they’re running around chaotically, waiting for the next slice of pain.

Breathe, Nell. You’re home. You’re safe. He can’t touch you here.

Except he can.

My shoulders sag as I look into the mirror and see just how disgusting I am. The worst of my injuries appear to be healed, including where I took an arrow in my arm. But bruises and minor cuts still mar my scarily pale skin. The auburn hair on my head is flat and dull, while my eyes hold the weight of decades of pain and suffering in them.

I bite my lip as I look over my fingernails, sorely reminded of each time I attempted to claw my way to freedom and failed. At least they’re growing back.

I turn so my back is facing the mirror and lean against the vanity. I don’t even know what to do with myself, or how to hold myself up. The flesh I’m forced to live in no longer feels like mine. It’s his…it will always be his. He’s marked me in ways I’ll never be able to run from. I’m literally a used, disgusting, despicable piece of nothing.

I can’t look at myself any longer. It’s too much.

I rush out of the bathroom and into the closet, grabbing Casmir’s largest shirt and sweats, shakily forcing my limbs into them. I braid my hair at the back, not willing to feel the strands touching me or allow them to invade my vision. When I feel covered enough, I walk into the room where Cas and Em are waiting for me, sitting on the edge of the bed. So I move to plant myself in the middle, pulling my knees up and hugging them to the mess I feel under my sternum.

I pull Cas’s shirt over my hands, clenching the material so it covers my fingers and hides the last pieces of skin that were visible to me. I rest my head against my knees and a small zap of pain shoots up my leg; that must not be completely healed, then.

Emrys reaches for me and I flinch, clamping my eyes shut and holding my breath as my heart triples in speed. After a moment of not being touched, I straighten, nausea overcoming me.

“Em, I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Shh,” he stops me, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. I didn’t think of how you would feel. We won’t touch you unless you ask, okay?” My gaze shoots to his, looking for some kind of lie, but there is none. He’s hurt at my reaction, though he’s attempting to hide those feelings behind a cracked smile. I nod, looking behind them towards the window. If I’m so broken that I can’t even stand the touch of my soul bonds, maybe I should’ve just let Andras kill me.

I’d be better to everyone dead.

I can see that I’m not in Ceross anymore. I can smell the calming petrichor of the waterfall outside. I can feel the unending love surrounding me from all three of my bonds. I can’t hear any screaming or familiar footsteps just outside the door. There’s no abundance of red or white anywhere around me.

Everything here is straining to show me that I made it out, that I escaped. And yet I can’t seem to dampen the sensitive awareness, nearly jumping or screeching at every sound and movement.

Is this how it’s to be for the rest of my life? A constant state of fear encompassing my every waking moment; and if I’m being honest with myself, probably every sleeping moment as well?

The anticipation of something happening is worse than actually going through it. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to live like this.

Chapter Nineteen

Emrys

I’d be better to everyone dead.

Hearing her say that rips my heart from my body. She’s practically screaming her dense thoughts down the bond, but I don’t react. She’s feeling a lot of things, and I’m not going to pretend I understand.

I do, though. And maybe that’s why I won’t comment on it, because it would make me feel worse if someone commented on my negative thoughts. I peer over at Cas and shake my head slightly, silently telling him to reign in the horror spreading across his face. He turns, wiping his cheeks quickly before regaining his composure.

A half-sob comes from beneath the hands covering her face, and mine twitch, aching to hold her. Comfort her and tell her it will all be okay. It won’t, but I’ll tell her, anyway. I refuse to touch her until she asks, especially after the way she flinched. Is she even comfortable with Cas and me being here right now?

I watch her regulate, appreciating the way her hair moves with each wipe of her face. Sucking the magic out of her wasn’t just taking it from her soul, it seems. Her hair is somber, her skin edging translucency. Her nails, broken as they may be, are brittle. And her eyes…her alluring, stormy eyes. They’re empty.

I know her soul is in there. It has to be. But I think it sunk to the deepest part of her existence, as she was afraid to let Andras see her true self. So she hid it from him. Shoved it into a different realm, for all I know, because it’s certainly not in the room with us.

That’s okay, though. I’ll bring it back to her.

I drink in her floral scent as she shifts on the bed, sitting up with resolve. I’m transfixed by her. Her will to be strong and put together—even when it’s unnecessary—is incredible.

“Can I get you anything, princess? Anything at all?” Casmir pleads lightly. She shakes her head, brows furrowing while her hands strangle each other in her lap.

She’s shivering, though I’m unsure if it’s her emotions or temperature. The thick bedding drapes over her, leaving her upper half exposed. She’s wearing Cas’s sweats and shirt also…I shake my head, tossing the idea of using my fire to heat the blankets for her. I have a feeling that too much change right now will be a hindrance instead of helpful.

“Bren,” her voice cracks, and she covers her mouth with a hand. “I didn—I thought—no. No, no, no, no.” She whimpers, struggling to keep from crying.

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