Page 37 of Wicked Little Nightmare

A slow, wicked smile spread across Lakey's face. "Promise?"

I grinned back, all teeth and menace. "Oh baby, you know I always keep my promises."

As Lakey continued sifting through the contents, my mind spiraled into a twisted kaleidoscope of fury and darkness. It reminded me why I was the way I was. The cold detachment that settled over me as I eyed the photos was the only thing that held me together enough to sit still and not light this room on fire.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, eyeing a particularly gruesome photo. "Looks like they were trying to recreate 'Saw' in there. Maybe we should send them a cease and desist for copyright infringement."

Lakey snorted, her fingers tracing over a nasty scar on her arm. "I think I prefer Jigsaw's methods, honestly. At least he had some flair. My favorite was the angel one. Ooooh, now there’s an idea."

I barked out a laugh, but it felt hollow. My girl, my vicious little nightmare, reduced to a lab rat. My muscles were so tense, they could snap at the lightest touch.

"Hey, Lakes," I said, forcing lightness into my tone. "Remember when our biggest problem was figuring out how to dispose of our foster dad's body? Good times, huh?"

She elbowed me playfully, opening her mouth as if to say something, but then I felt her stiffen as she pulled out a new sheet of paper. Her face went pale, blue eyes widening as she scanned the clinical text.

"Cam," she whispered, voice uncharacteristically small. "They... they chemically castrated me."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My arms tightened around her instinctively, possessively. Holy fuck. Everything clicked into place. We hadn’t used birth control for years… and…

"Those fucking bastards," I growled, jaw clenched so tight it ached. "Holy fuck."

Lakey turned to me, a storm cloud in her eyes despite the tears threatening to spill over. "I wanted to be a fucking mother, Cam. I wanted to have a baby. You and me. They fucking took that from me.” She screamed, anguish echoing in the small room.

Suddenly, her face contorted. She stumbled off my lap, nearly tripping over her own feet as she lurched towards the recycling bin in the corner. I watched, my heart twisting, as she retched violently into it.

"Shit, Lakes," I muttered, pushing myself up from the worn chair. My anger morphed into concern as I crossed the room in two long strides. I placed my hand on her back, feeling the tremors wracking her small frame as she continued to heave.

"It's okay, baby," I murmured, rubbing gentle circles between her shoulder blades. "Let it out. I've got you."

It was fucked up, really. Here I was, a diagnosed narcissistic sociopath, feeling my chest constrict at the sight of her pain. Theoretically, I shouldn’t feel much of anything. Though, I’m not as ‘clinically deranged’ as Lakey. Their words, not mine. But she had always been my exception, the one person who could make me feel... well, anything. Love, if it could go by that name. Because really, what is love except for an innate burning to avenge those who hurt your person? Besides, the more we stepped into this type of darkness, the righter mine felt. Mine was nothing like this. Mine was almost protective in nature, tied to the one person who had never let me down. Hers was nothing like this either. It sat in my chest, feeling all kinds of fucked. I actively recoiled against the sensation, trying to soothe the utter repulsion I felt at what they did to her.

The world didn’t understand us, but it never mattered. We were psycho squared, stronger together than we ever were apart. We didn’t need anyone to ‘get us’, and now that much hadbecome clear. They’d taken something, something precious from my girl. All the late-night talks where she’d joke about how she was unstable, but she’d give anything to be a mom. She’d always turned everything into a comedy skit, but I knew the need for her was real.

I couldn’t name a single woman that could have been a better mother. Who do you know that would slice the dick and balls off someone for being a sick fuck? No one. And that’s the point. Everyone cowers in their homes, waiting for someone else to do what needs to be done.

But not my Lakes.

She would have made a phenomenal mother and now… well…

They just sealed themselves in a very special hell. One where heaven becomes a distorted version of choosing whether they lose their left hand or their right first before losing them both.

When the heaving finally subsided, Lakey straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned to face me, and the sight of tears brimming in those light blue eyes hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.

Our gazes locked, and in that moment, a thousand unspoken words passed between us. My jaw clenched, a fresh wave of fury washing over me as I saw the raw vulnerability in her expression. It was a side of Lakey that only I ever got to see - the scared little girl I protected ages ago.

"I'll kill them all," I promised, my voice low and deadly. "Every last fucker who touched you. They'll wish they'd never been born by the time I'm done with them."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Lakey's face. "My salvation," she whispered, but her voice was shaky.

I pulled her into my arms, one hand cupping the back of her head as she buried her face in my chest. She tilted her face upward, kissing me softly while I wiped the wetness off her cheeks.

As I held her, I felt a familiar dark thrill coursing through my veins. These fucks thought they could break us, control us. But they had no idea what they'd unleashed. With Lakey by my side, there was no limit to the carnage we could wreak.

And I was going to enjoy every bloody second of it.

She let me go, going to stand at the desk again. I watched as her trembling fingers reached for the next sheet of paper. Her face, usually a mask of sweet mischief, was now pale and drawn. As she unfolded it, my stomach twisted.How the fuck could shit get even worse?

"Fuck me sideways," I muttered, eyeing the clinical list of drug names and dosages. Next to it was a photo that made me pause — Lakey, strapped to a chair, eyes vacant and unseeing. She was covered in welts, but her hands were cut open. Almost as if she had been pounding against a wall or something. I felt as if I’d seen this before, a weird sensation of déjà vu passing over me.

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