Page 16 of Darkness Falls

He grabs me from behind, wrapping an arm around my chest. I bring my hand up to dig my nails into his forearm, causing a small trail of blood to trickle down. His other hand reaches around to grip my throat, cutting off my airflow. I pull at his arm unsuccessfully, and my body starts to go weak. I see dark spots around the edges of my vision as my body begs for air.

When my arms fall down to my sides, he releases his grip on my neck and shoves me into the chair that looks like it belongs in a dentist's office. I grip the side arms of it, coughing and trying to catch my breath as he presses my upper back against it, securing the strap around my stomach before I can react. Two more straps come across each of my legs, one on the upper portion and another near my ankles.

I finally catch my breath and reach to unfasten the strap around my stomach, but I'm not fast enough. He reaches around and secures the straps around each of my lower arms, keeping my hands in place at my side. The final strap is fastened around my neck, holding my head in place against the headrest.

Damien takes a step back to admire his work. "I can't wait until I get to strap you down here for myself."

Without saying another word, he leaves me alone with my heart slamming in my chest and my anxiety soaring. I have no clue what is in store for me today, but knowing my father, I know it will be something he deems necessary. The fact that I pissed him off will only make things worse.

After a few minutes, my father comes into the room and looks at me with a sadistic smile. "It seems you have opinions today, and women with opinions don't have a good place in our world. We can't have that."

I keep my mouth sealed, and he wastes no time walking over to cut off the bottom half of my shirt, just above my belly button. My pulse soars, and my chest heaves as I wonder what he’s about to do to me when he reclines the chair back. Whatever it is isn’t going to be good. He walks over to the corner of the room and grabs what looks like a piece of metal and a blowtorch before stepping back in front of me to click the blowtorch on.

Blue flames shoot out of the tip of the torch as my father places the end of the metal in its path. I watch as the metal changes from its silver color to a burning hot orange-red, and instantly, I panic. He is going to burn me, his own daughter.

“Father,” I try, but he cuts me off.

“You lied earlier. You should have told the truth, and maybe this wouldn’t have to be so severe. I can’t have a sneaky liar for a daughter.”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t,” I beg, but he doesn’t listen.

I try my best to dissociate from whatever is about to happen. My thoughts roam to Kyler, Barrett, Sebastian, and even Maxton while he does whatever he plans on doing to torture me.

I feel tears pouring down from my face, surely a response from my body reacting to the pain, but I keep my mind set on my men. I hear Barrett telling me to not let him break my spirit, and to find my strength.

Briefly, I'm pulled back to the moment with my father. "You see, daughter. Pain can be used to manipulate people into doing whatever you want them to. It's a fairly easy tool. The human body is only able to take so much without reacting. Soon enough, you will learn to use the same tactics I use."

"I'm not like you." I cry out. It takes everything in me to not vomit.

"No, and that's part of the problem. You're definitely not like me. I hoped that raising you the way I did would have some positive effects. You can't erase genetics, I suppose." He almost sounds disappointed.

An unrelenting pain radiates through my entire body. I expect it to lessen after a moment, but it only intensifies as the air hits my seared flesh. Tears fall down my face, and I can't control the way my body begins to shake.

I can't think straight. I can't do anything except focus on how badly my skin burns. I let him get to me. Barrett would be so disappointed. It just hurts so fucking much.

"This makes things much easier on me now that you know about the inner workings of Rogue," my father says as he leans in to unstrap me from the chair. I'm frozen in place, unable to move, fearing the pain will worsen. He glances down at the burn he inflicted and laughs. "Don't make me bring you back down here today. You will keep your nose out of my business unless I want you in it. Your future husband can tell you where to find Nadine. She always took care of your mother after I had my lessons with her."

Without another word, he walks away. I lay here for a few minutes before I’m able to sit up from the reclined position of the chair. I can’t stop the tears from soaking my face, no matter how hard I try. I look down at my stomach to see the skin bubbled, red, and raw. The last thing I want is for Damien to see me like this, but the bastard appears in front of me with nothing but pure joy on his face as he eyes my father's handiwork.

“You were supposed to come find me.” He raises a brow, and I quickly look away.

"My father said you know someone named Nadine." I refuse to look him in the eye. He steps in front of me and grabs my cheeks, forcing my face up to his. "He took it easy on you."

I keep my mouth shut, knowing he’s trying to bait me. I’ve already dealt with enough today. My lip curls in disgust, but he reluctantly lets go and scoffs at me.

"Go to your room. I'll send the nurse to you. We have to make sure you're taken care of. We have a big day coming up very soon."

I stand up from the chair, and the swift movement causes a searing wave of pain. I look down at the burnt flesh on my stomach again. There is no way this isn't going to scar. It'll be another permanent reminder of my father and this hell hole.

I do as I'm told for now and walk up the basement steps. Every step sends a shooting pain right to the raw, sensitive flesh wound on my stomach. I almost stop midway up the stairs from the intensity of the pain, but I don’t want Damien to see me struggle. He would enjoy that entirely too much.

I finally make it out of the basement door and then over to the steps to the second floor. I have to give myself a moment before I’m able to take them. I make it to my room and decide to sit on the edge of the bed to wait for this nurse to show up to clean the burn. I could go to the bathroom and do it myself, but what’s the point? Maybe whoever shows up will have sympathy for me, and it could be a potential way out of here.

A figure appears in my doorway with a small bag in her hand. Her brown hair is scraggly and frizzy, and she has a blank look plastered on her face. She appears to be in her mid-thirties, but I could be wrong because I've always been terrible at guessing people’s ages.

"Hi," I say cautiously, trying to figure out if she is a friend or foe. "I'm Callie."

She ignores me and steps up to me. Her dainty hand reaches out to push on my shoulder until my back meets the mattress, with my feet dangling over the edge. I lay there awkwardly, not wanting to cause any issues for her because she clearly doesn't want to talk. I also want her to do whatever she's going to do to my stomach because it hurts like hell.

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