Page 1 of Destructive Truths

ONE

SAOIRSE

Who knew drowning could feel so much like love? It’s as if you are gasping for air while choking on the scorching breath searing your lungs. It’s a serrated knife thrust into the centre of your chest, slicing your vulnerability wide open.

Then comes the wave, dragging you under, and the further you sink, the more it’s bound to kill you.

I always thought that in my last moment my entire existence would flash before my eyes in a collection of memories and a lifetime of achievements, but my reality is far bleaker.

There is no slideshow of laughter and love, no Christmas mornings or past birthday parties. Instead, death greets me with crippling anxiety, sheer disappointment, and a shitload of dreams I will never fulfil.

I may have been born to become a queen, but as I choke on my final breath, the conclusion crashes through me: I’ll leave this world nothing more than a broken, naïve girl.

The hands around my neck force me under, stealing the last ounce of life coursing through my veins. Finally, my flailing limbs give up the fight as the blurry figure fades from view. I’m on the edge of death, floating through a cloud of flower petals, disappearing into the darkness. As I drift through the numbness, my mother’s voice breaks through, providing me strength and begging me to fight harder. Never feed your fears, Saoirse. Because if you do, they will eat you alive.

She’s right. This cannot be my final countdown. I refuse to leave this world marred by men who crave power—power that is rightfully mine.

Using every molecule of strength I have left, I force my body to push back. My fingers clasp Rohan’s wrist while I straighten my spine and rear forward, thrusting against his unwavering grasp. My legs kick out as I fight to gain some traction.

“Stay still, you fucking cunt.”

My brow tightens, creasing the lines around my closed eyes. Something about his tone irks me. It’s different from the velvety bravado I’m used to—a deeper brogue littered with hatred and oozing distaste. Rohan’s wild lilt once licked my skin with lust-filled desire. But now there is nothing but disdain, and it shutters through me, chilling me to the core.

The water makes it harder for him to keep his grip firm. My lengthy nails bite into his flesh, tearing at his arms as I struggle to wade through the shallow depths. Yet, I don’t give up, refusing to go down without a fight.

“Fuck,” he curses when I break the skin. “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

My feet become my anchor, and I push against the aged brass tub and thrust my hips upward, momentarily knocking him off-kilter. It’s not enough to free myself from his hold, but my head bursts through the water’s surface, and I waste no time drawing a breath through my nose.

Reaching out, I grip the side of the bath. He pushes against me, but my arms hold me steady and unmoving. My eyes seek his, and once I latch on to his gaze, a flicker of uncertainty overwhelms me, and the breath I stole catches in the base of my throat.

I thought I knew those eyes—the ones that held me and caressed my skin with unspoken words. The same fucking eyes that promised to keep me safe, to protect me from the demons hiding in the shadows. Could I be wrong? Sure, the same hue of green with countless fiery specks of autumn gold shine back at me. But the softness, the glimmer of lust, the flicker of longing, the sparkle of mischief—all the things that made me a fool for the man behind the mask—are missing.

These eyes are different, darker, lifeless, and void of emotion. Realisation crashes in. This is not the same person who whispered promises and offered truths.

“Donnacha,” I croak. It seems the devil came to finish what he started. Not to-fucking-day, arsehole.

“In the flesh.” Malice coats his words as he hisses his reply, “Did you really think I’d let you live after last night?” His lips tilt into a sneer. “My brother should have killed me when he had the chance, sweetheart.” The slimy sweetheart rolls off his tongue and pierces my exterior, making my insides icy with hate. Nevertheless, I refuse to let this bastard win.

“How do you think he’ll feel when I drop your used corpse on his doorstep? With your pussy thoroughly fucked and dripping with my cum,” Donnacha continues, taunting me with his poisonous words.

Fury boils beneath my skin, igniting something untameable. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m letting this fucker play out his sick, twisted fantasies. I’ll kill him first or die trying.

From the corner of my eye, I spy a way out of this mess—a large white-and-blue china vase. With one hand around Donnacha’s wrist, I stretch my free arm towards the priceless vase on the windowsill next to the bath. My fingertips barely graze the old antique, but I keep trying.

Donnacha dunks me again, but before I plunge beneath the water, I draw in as much air as possible and then use the backward momentum to shift to the right. With my new plan in place, the fight inside me bursts free, propelling me forward. This time I hurry. Reaching out, I grasp the neck of the vase and haul it towards his head. The porcelain shatters against his temple with a sharp crack causing Donnacha to weave. Then, as if instinctual, he releases my throat, and his hand rushes towards his head as he roars out, “Fucking cunt.”

There’s no time to hesitate. I lunge from the bath, splashing water everywhere as I dart towards the door. My shoulders rise and fall as my ragged breath dances to the tune of my erratic heart. Every inhale cuts into my lungs with the air’s sharp bite, but I don’t stop. Croaking out another round of breathless coughs, I burst through the open en suite door into the main bedroom.

My eyes land on the gun Rohan gave me earlier, sitting atop the bedside locker. I rush towards the edge of the bed, knowing it’s my only hope of leaving this room alive. I’m almost there when fingers grasp my dripping-wet locks and wrench me backwards. A radiating sting spreads across my scalp, causing my eyes to water from the piercing pain as a scream expels past my lips.

“Not so fucking fast, you little cunt. Did you really think that pathetic attempt would work?” Unnerving humour laces his voice. “You’re not getting away this time.”

“Help!” I scream, but it’s pointless. We are miles away from anywhere. The castle on the hill is no longer my safe haven. It’s a hollow hell, far from any saviour.

“Nobody is coming, sweetheart. But by all means, keep screaming.” He pulls me close, wrapping his free hand around my waist, and moulding my bare back against his chest. “I like the sound of your fear.” Then, lowering his mouth, his vile breath trails along my skin, and my stomach flips as bile rises in my throat. His hold on me tightens, and he lifts me off my feet. I kick my legs through the air, and he grunts when my flailing elbow greets his rib cage. “Fucking bitch.” Pain licks his words.

Suddenly, my back hits the mattress, and Donnacha crawls above me, pinning me beneath him. Straddling my waist, he takes a hold of my arms and hikes them above my head, stapling them in place. Then, with his free hand, he reaches up to rip his mask off.

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