Page 123 of Hell Breaks Loose

Then it’s gone, replaced by another face, two of them. The huge man with the stern gaze. The tall one with the long, honey brown hair.

There were others, too, that I can’t quite bring to mind. Less important.

People who looked at me with terror in their eyes. Fear for me. Or of me.

Worry. Compassion.

Those are things that people feel, right?

I felt none of them when the Herald shot Marco.

Only when she told me to hurt the bride, my heart thundering in my chest, the wailing shriek tearing through my mind, slamming against that brick wall of the world before whatever made me this way.

Against the wall that the Matron placed around my memories to protect me from the horrible things that were done to me.

That’s what she told me, anyway.

I have to believe her. She’s the center of my waking world.

Only challenged in my dreams by the woman with eyes like the surf. Hair that flows on forever down her back. And that body…

Another part of me that I deny completely awakens to those thoughts.

Desire like I’ve never known.

Distractions. My body keeps stacking bodies, slapping away one of her other children, a wretched creature.

Fortunately, I feel no pity for them, only mild revulsion.

Looking down, I see the mud and reddish stains smearing my hands. I should wash it off.

So I head inside, cleaning the filth off my body. Because the Matron demands that I behave differently from the rest of them.

“You’re pretty.” A high voice quavers from the table by the door.

I stare at the creature. A woman. She’s less gaunt than most. Probably pretty once.

“What do you want?”

“Some fun. The Herald commanded that we could indulge while we’re here. That the Seven say we should give into those urges.”

“I don’t have urges.”

A sickly grin splits her face as she lurches forward, hesitating once she gets within a few feet. They know to be afraid of me. Because of what the Herald has made me do to so many of them.

To teach them lessons.

“L–Let me show you. You’ll see.”

Shaky hands reach for my belt buckle, fumbling with the clasp.

She doesn’t even yelp when the back of my hand takes her across the face, launching her across the room, smashing into the table and chairs.

“Touch me again and I’ll kill you.”

“Please! I can make you feel so good! You can even hurt me while we do it! You can choke me!”

I take a step back at the request, a wave of nausea rolling over me.

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