Page 107 of Their Dark Rose

“No!” My horrified cry vibrates through me, hardly muffled through the cloth on my mouth.

I stare back at Thorn, baring my teeth like a rabid dog. He says nothing, still frozen and heavy on top of me. Good, I can use his shock to my advantage. To hit him harder.

Not like my victory stops my desperate cries through the vile mouth gag.

“You can’t have them!” The more I scream, the less coherent I sound, even to my own ears.

I can’t help it, though. My cries are visceral, coming from the innermost depths of me. From my heart, from the biggest love I’ve ever experienced. Even if I die here, I won’t go down without doing my best to protect them.

When I stab my finger deeper into Thorn’s eye, I do it for them. I hurt him so he can never hurt them.

Something changes as I do. His right eye starts giving in. For real this time.

“You won’t touch them!” I keep howling a bunch of unintelligible consonants and vowels.

“Princess.”

A hand rests on my shoulder. A woodsy, familiar smell curls around me.

Playing motherfucking mind games with me.

It makes me hate the man above me more passionately than ever before.

“Leave them the fuck alone!”

And then it happens.

Pop.

Blood and gore cascade down on me in a colorful waterfall. Red, gray, and white rain down on my hand, wrist, arm. Bits of Thorn’s eye land on my naked chest, on my chin, my nose.

The feeling is nothing short of marvelous.

A maniacal laugh bursts past my lips, accompanying Thorn’s tormented cries.

“Good girl,” I hear my hallucination growl.

I don’t rest, though. I don’t let up for a second, even when Thorn rolls to the side and tries to pry my hand off him.

I’m not done until I say I’m done. And I haven’t fucking said it yet.

I roll to my side, the imaginary hand on my shoulder pressed to me still.

“I hate you.” My growl is a mumble.

Thorn doesn’t hear me. Won’t hear me past his screams and the gag they put on me. I’m way past caring about what I sound like.

Two hands wrap around my middle, dragging me back.

Leather. I smell leather.

Stinking drugs.

I’m sure that if I turn my head, I’ll see Mallie’s long, black hair. Judging by the second set of hands I have on me, she must’ve called an accomplice to help her put me down.

I will not be put down.

I will not be fooled by whatever she drugged me with, won’t succumb to the illusions it provokes.

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