Page 116 of Sardonic Burn

My chest hurts.

The betrayal feels like someone is using pins and needles to repeatedly stab my heart until it’s filled with the small, metal objects. Cutting my chest open and carving my heart out wouldn’t hurt as much as this does.

When the door in the building closed and the mask fell off, the first thing that came from my lips was a gasp. My eyes widened, and the shock hasn’t left me since. The sinister smile, the evil gaze that bores into my face makes my stomach twist and turn in agony.

I fainted before he got the chance to even hurt me.

And now I’m chained to the wall in what looks to be a basement. It’s not stinky or smelly; it’s a perfectly usable basement. But the chains around my wrists, stomach, and ankles are heavy, pulling me to the ground.

I woke up not too long ago.

And Dylan is nowhere in sight.

I want to scream at him, yell and hit him until I have no strength left. Why did he do all of this? Why did he go to such lengths? If it’s to avenge his father, even Dylan must be aware that his father was nothing but a monstrous freak who deserved the ending he got.

Why?

I don’t know what time it is or how long I’ve been here. Dylan stripped me of all the weapons I originally had, leaving me to feel bare. He knows that I’m never without even the slightest, smallest weapon on me because it makes me feel safe.

Dylan took away the only thing that made me feel safe.

I suspected him when I saw the obviously self-inflicted whip marks on his body. But I never thought that he’d end up being the man I was chasing. I thought he was just pissed that I was spending time with Hudson and that he did it out of jealousy. How I wish my mind had connected the dots quicker.

At worst, my thoughts were that he might’ve been working for The Silencer—not that he is The Silencer himself.

Regret starts to sink in, and realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

The women that were murdered in cold blood and the women that he was selling all looked terrifyingly like me. Long, dark-brown hair, with a deep shade of brown eyes. It’s not a unique look, but they are all my height, around my weight, and around my age. Some of them even have more similarities, and it’s too disturbing to think that he was out and about, looking for women similar to me.

My throat is dry.

My wrists and ankles hurt. The chains are embedded into my flesh, the skin around them a deep shade of red. I can’t escape even without the chains, so securing them that tightly was done out of spite.

I can’t help but think how all of this is my fault.

Those women might’ve been alive if I had just not been acting like a selfish brat. If I’d given him the attention he was craving, he probably wouldn’t have taken his anger out on those poor people.

I’m too ashamed of myself, and it hurts.

My mind is my biggest enemy and my greatest weakness.

Despite the utter and complete shame that fills me, I’m still angry. I’m just too exhausted to let it surface. The fact that this has been going on right under my nose is terrifyingly alarming. He knew how much I despised people like him, yet I didn’t see it. As furious as I am with him, I’m the one to blame here. If I had been smart enough to figure it out, this could’ve been prevented.

However, the fact remains.

Dylan is The Silencer. The man who I’m set to marry is a fucking monster. And I hand-picked him. What does that makeme? A bigger monster? The devil himself? The guilt is starting to eat me alive and the longer I’m alone in this basement, the worse and darker my thoughts get.

I have no doubt that in his sick mind, he thinks he’s doing all of this for me, somehow. He’ll try to pin the blame on me, and there’s nothing I can do but accept it. Because he will be right; I am the one to blame.

My eyes close, and it’s the biggest mistake.

My mind plays images of those terrified girls inside of that cage on replay. I can see every bruise, every tear, and every time their teeth clatter together in anxiety. They’re petrified, and they’ve been abused to the point of no return. Their lives are fucking ruined just because they resemble me in one way or the other.

The door swings open, and I force myself to open my eyes. A tear slides down my cheek, and I’m met with Dylan.

He’s calm—too calm. He looks just like he always does. He’s dressed in casual clothes with his hair messy and a lazy smile on his face. The insanity that I saw in that building is no longer there, as if it never existed in the first place.

“I know the chains must be uncomfortable, Noelle.” He sighs. He picks up a water bottle, opens the lid, and approaches me. “But it’s for your own good. I can’t have you throwing a fit, you know?”

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