Page 99 of Aine

My head slams against the pole as I suck in a pained scream. The sting is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and it has me wheezing as I attempt to catch my breath.

Owen releases my leg so he can run his hands up and down my shoulders. He whispers more praises, but I block them out. I don’t understand this game of his, and I don’t like it. The hurt, comfort, hurt pattern is confusing and scary, and I’d almost instead prefer he stick to only hurting me.

I sob as he grabs my leg and pulls it back for another round. I don’t want to do this.

“What else?”

I shake my head, pleading with him to release me. His grip tightens as he repeats his question.

Quieting, I wrack my brain for anything else I may have done that he’d want to hear about. My chest heaves as I struggle to think of something, and Owen runs his nail up and down my leg in warning.

“I, uh—” I choke out as he dips the nail’s point into my kneecap. “Sometimes I steal food from the pantry.”

It doesn’t happen frequently, but I’ve taken a snack or two after unloading the wheelbarrow. Alex knows about it and doesn’t seem to mind, the man always laughing and pretending not to notice when I return to the garden with sticky fingers.

Owen repeats this gruesome process until the sky grows dark. The only breaks I receive are when one of his beasts interrupts to give an update on Damien. I’ve learned not to eavesdrop when his name is brought up, and I turn my face away to show I’m ignoring the words they speak.

I still hope Damien’s on his way to find me but given Owen’s good spirits, I worry my assumptions are wrong. He’s taking too long.

Rain droplets hit my head as we finish another round of confessions, and I glance toward the dark clouds swirling above. We’re moments away from a downpour.

I turn to Owen with wide, panicked eyes as I wait for him to comment on it. Will he untie and bring me inside to wait out the storm? He frowns as he takes note of the sudden change in weather, and after a moment, he releases a loud sigh and stands.

“This isn’t ideal,” he mumbles, looking down at me.

If I weren’t so afraid of the punishment that follows speaking out of turn, I’d beg him to bring me the clothing he promised I’d get after confessing my sins.

“I’ll be back when the rain has stopped.”

I open my mouth to protest, my eyes watering, but look away before following through. He’s not going to bring me any anything to wear. Owen’s eyes harden as he notices my reaction.

“What?” he asks.

My mouth is dry and my voice hoarse when I finally answer.

“You said you’d bring me clothing,” I whisper.

Owen scoffs, which isn’t surprising to hear. He’s going to leave me in the cold rain with no protection. Just as he did last night.

“I said no such thing,” he snaps.

I nod, watching out of the corner of my eye as he retreats into the woods. Only when I’m sure he’s gone do I work up the courage to look at my legs.

The skin on my right thigh is covered in dirt and blood from where he punctured me with his nail, but it’s the left that’s torn to shreds. I giggle as I note that it looks like a serving ham, ready for the meat to be lifted and put on a fancy dinner plate.

My laughter only grows as the rain starts to come down in earnest, washing all my grime and blood away. I’m going to die out here. I’m going to bleed out and die in the rain tied to some stupid fucking pole that some deranged beast tied me to.

I’m bent over in hysterics before I can process what I’m doing. I know I should quiet before Owen or one of his men grow angry, but I’m unable to stop the loud shrieks that fall from my lips.

I don’t even know what I’m laughing at. I just know I’m laughing.

I continue my loud cackles even as Owen storms out of the woods. His feet splatter the newly formed patches of mud as he stomps toward me, some of the wet dirt even hitting me in the face as he comes to a stop directly next to my crumpled body.

My eyes meet his as I scream out in laughter, the noise loud and unforgiving as he raises his arm and swings.

It’s bright the next time I find consciousness, the sun burning and reddening my sensitive skin. There are no beasts in sight, and I slump against the pole until my body forces me back to sleep.

My aching head is all I can think about the following day, and Owen cracks some jokes about it before his strikes put me to sleep. I’m grateful for it, finding my unconscious state better than my waking one.

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