Page 20 of Absentia Mori

I don’t feel the ache in my chest. I forget about the scars on my flesh. “Cum for me,” I rasp as I pull up for air to admire the slick layer of saliva I’ve coated him with.

He grabs the back of my head and shoves me back down. “Faster.”

Mordecai’s scent envelops me as he stands over us, stroking himself. “Only us,” he recites our mantra.

It’s only ever been us. The three forgotten poison boys. With no one to look after us but each other, our bonds lie deeper than mere flesh and bone.

I work my tongue against his shaft as I slide my lips up and down, relishing in the way his cock twitches in my mouth. I moan around him.

“Fuck. Get ready to choke,” Raithe grunts. He presses my head between his palms and grinds into the back of my throat.

I take a deep breath through my nose as his hot cum shoots out.

Mordecai lets out a moan and squirts his climax onto my face at the same time.

I gag for a second before I surrender. And then I drink like a thirsty man who’s been wandering the desert for days without water. I suck him dry while he writhes and moans on the bed.

He tastes like salt and ash and nightshade. Like the sins of our past and the crimes we haven’t yet committed. I suck and lick until I’ve consumed every drop of his essence.

Breathless, I wipe my lips with the back of my hand. “Only us.”

Raithe’s chest heaves as he comes down from his orgasm. With one hand still on my head, he reaches the other out for Mordecai. “Fuck… you two are my only salvation. My only mercy in this fucked up world.”

Mordecai runs his fingers over Raithe’s empty eye socket. “She’s the devil between us. We can’t let her win.”

I rest my head against his thigh; my rage and sorrow renewed again. “Agreed. We can’t let her manipulate us.”

Raithe nods as he sits back up. “It’s time to show her that the true horrors of this place are us.”

Absentia felt like a prison at first. It still is, but now we have the freedom to roam around within its twisted halls. As long as we don’t try to escape, the asylum is our playground.

It didn’t take long for us to make nice with the orderlies. We do their grunt work, the shit jobs that the doctor requires of them. Raithe, Mordecai, and I clean toilets, mop floors, and even change bedpans. We turn our heads when Gorman and his buddies steal pills from the infirmary, we keep our mouthsshut when they have their fun with some of the other patients—prisoners, and we cause distractions with the doctor when they need to be in two places at once.

In return, they don’t fuck with us. After six months in this rotten place, our power grows over theirs. It’s all part of the plan to get the fuck out of here. Soon, we’ll be free of this place. And once we’re on the outside, we can turn around and burn it the fuck down.

We have no loyalty to anyone but each other. But the atrocities that have been committed here over the years are enough to make me sick. There are ghosts who roam these halls, disturbed spirits who will never find peace. I’ll be damned if that ends up being us someday.

One thing I know for sure is Libra Thorn is worth her weight in gold. She’s a cold-hearted bitch with psycho tendencies, but there’s no way her family put her in here. That’s not how rich people punish their kin. If her parents wanted to lock her away, it would be in a beachside villa somewhere, not this shithole.

So that means she’s pissed off someone more powerful than them. Richer than her own family. Andthatis what I consider leverage.

I slip into Dr. Hall’s office right on schedule. She’s making herrounds,and the short, stocky orderly we call Weasel, gives me a nod before standing watch.

Her desk is pristine and free from clutter, as usual. I remember the first time I prowled around in here, the shock that swept through me when I realized all the files were empty. Not missing, just non-existent. The dutiful citizens of Raven’s Gate have no fucking idea what this place really is. It’s not a treatment center for sick people to get better. It’s a fucking prison. A place where people go to be forgotten. A cesspool of lies and deceit for those who you want to make disappear.

There are no medical charts or files or notes. Dr. Hall’s yellow pads are full of doodles and grocery lists. She’s a fraud. A watchkeeper for the misfits and outcasts of society. The warden over all those who dare to piss off the wrong people.I’ll give her a slower death than the others.

But what she does keep are receipts. Payments from those who buy her silence and obedience. The amount of money the Graves family has paid to keep me and the boys locked up in here would almost be flattering if it didn’t sicken me so much.

I open drawers and filing cabinets in search of anything new. Weasel taps on the door three times, signaling that my time’s almost up. My heart races as I flip through her ledgers. I scan the pages as fast as I can.

I need more time. Fuck.

There’s nothing here except the same old shit. Endless paper trails of money paid by some of the most prominent families in Melancholia—Graves, Harker, Wickford, Crane, and others. I can only imagine the centuries of blood and betrayal that these payments are tied to. Not to mention the ones recently made on our behalf. But nothing new.

Which leads me to believe that whoever put Libra in here has even more to hide than I thought.

Weasel knocks one more time, a final warning to get the fuck out before Dr. Hall rounds the corner.

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