Page 23 of Threads Of Madly Whispers

“Take.” Aversion and acrimony rise up my throat and rage birches at my bones, begging to be let out.

She slithers out from the shadows, her movements twisted, her eyes glinting with a madness that is both familiar and revolting. She tears open the folder, her fingers shaking as she examines the photographs. Her matted hair falls over her face, but even so, the smile that curls her lips is unmistakable.

A cackling, insane laugh erupts from her—wild, guttural, like the scream of a wounded animal. The sound fills the room, warping the air with its madness. She inches closer to the bars, but the chain around her neck jerks her back, choking her in her own frenzy.

“Il male è qui, il male è vicino, il male è vivo,”it comes out as a whisper, but the words are very clear. “The evil is here, the evil is close, the evil is alive”

“They’re coming, nephew, and they’re coming for you,”Her finger rises, pointing straight at me, her eyes gleaming with the twisted delight of some broken prophecy.

“You insult me.” A sinister smile presses against my lips. “Your belief that something far more heinous than myself is creeping closer with every passing second is almost amusing”

I take the small rectangular box from my pocket, feeling the weight of it in my hand, knowing exactly what it contains. I crouch down in front of her, the smell of rot and neglect so overwhelming it forces my lip to curl in distaste.

I slide the needle from the box, watching as her eyes flicker with recognition, fear mingling with her rage.

“Start talking,” I order, my voice cold and unyielding.

“I— I don’t—” Her words tumble out in incoherent gasps. “I don’t know anything…”

“Last chance,” I whisper, my voice a quiet threat.

“Maybe... maybe it’s not them. Those markings…” Her eyes dart, searching for something to hold on to, her hands clawing at the bars, trying to escape. “It could be… someone else. Someone I… I don’t know—” Her voice falters as she struggles to find the words.

“The more you prolong, the more it will pain you”

Wildflower, a beautiful, lethal elixir, and my newest concoction.

It induces agony beyond the body’s capacity to endure, a torment that stays for hours, a slow and unrelenting march toward the edge of oblivion. The perfect dose could either shatter the flesh or freeze it in a permanent prison of paralysis. But for her, neither shall come. Not yet. Instead, she will suffer a torment so exquisite, so brutal, that she will pray for death, even as it slips further from her reach.

“It’s going to feel like your bones are breaking and your flesh is tearing apart. And just when the pain grows bearable, the burning sensation that will erupt on your skin—” I dig the needle into her arm and allow the clear substance to enter her veins.”—will make you beg me to end your pathetic life and until you sing like a bird, I will make each dose parlous every night”

She might know something, a thread to pull, a fragment of truth buried beneath her madness— and I would not put it past her to hold the key.

Her body jerks violently against the cold stone, a guttural scream ripping from her throat. The poison isworking its dark magic, sinking its claws deep into her, its potency unraveling her will. Her eyes widen, bulging like glass marbles, as her body locks in a terrible rigidity, bent by the crippling pain tearing through her.

“Sir, your guest has arrived,” Oscar’s voice pierces the tension, faint but clear from behind me.

“Let her in.”

Tonight, it will be a reckoning.

Chapter 13

Thorn – unknown 11134

She is a rose, a cruel blossom in the midnight air,

Her petals stained with the hues of desire.

Thorns sharp as daggers, they beckon.

Each prick, a sacrificial offering, drawing forth blood,

And I, foolish enough, shall bleed for her.

For her beauty, for her poison.

For the cruel, sweet agony she promises.

---