Page 11 of Tainted Serenity

And all I can think of is that malicious grin he had when I asked about Naya.

Chapter 5

Naya

I never had thechance to be a child. My innocence was lost when I was only seven years old, and it was all because of her. My mother.

I never had the chance to see the world, feel the sensation of sand between my toes, enjoy the lovely view of beaches, or visit the tropical forests I once saw on television. Not once did I experience that before my life turned upside down inside a chaotic hurricane. My wings were clipped even before I had spread them out.

A bird chained to an unlockable cage.

A human made into a doll.

A plaything.

That has been the normal occurrence of my life ever since I witnessed my dad’s carved-up body. Should pain always feel like a gun pressing on my temple as the iron pushes into me? Like a piece of sandpaper scraping against my skin until it feels like every cell will peel off?

Or maybe like a hammer hitting me everywhere as it breaks every bone?

Those are my emotions right now as I fluctuate between being dead or alive. But that pain isn’t the worst. No, the worst is the feeling of a scolding hot iron poker that’s filling me up from the inside out. It’s twisting, burning, fucking destroying me.

My mind drifts into a hollow world of never-ending pain that is all too consuming. As my breaths come out in raspy sounds, they heave and soar through the space I’m in, rising above the world around me.

I can’t tell if what I saw outside the window earlier was real, if it was the knife that pierced through my flesh, or if it was all just a nightmare. Even though the events in the forest seem equally blurred in my mind, I feel filthy nonetheless. As if no matter how many times I shower, I still wouldn’t be clean.

A smell of old moss and earth wafts through my nostrils, clinging to my surroundings and making me scrunch my nose. Something obstructs my view—a silk fabric tied around my eyes too tight until my temples hurt. A sudden sound inside the room prompts me to freeze, a trickling sensation spreading over me.

Someone breathes beside me, a whimper escaping them that has me struggling to move, but it’s futile. Cold sweat breaks out as whispers erupt within the confined space that I cannot see. These whispers cause shivers to travel down my spine until I flinch, causing an unimaginable pain to spread through my stomach.

A cold touch meets my skin, icy fingers that drain the warmth of my blood, and then I’m able to see again. I suck in a sharp breath at the sight before me.

Five other women sit in front of me, forming a circle while tied to chairs. I watch a man clad in a gray and dull outfit remove the silken fabric from all the other women. We’re all equally dressed inside the room that’s falling apart. The walls are withered, with insects crawling all over the place.

Our breaths are the only thing audible as we stare at each other, some more fearful than others, with hair clinging to their foreheads. A haunting melody weaves its spell around the room, coming from the speakers above, and my mouth opens agape as I realize it’s the same one I heard that day in the forest. It feels like I’m swallowing molten lava when footsteps drown out the sound of the melody and another man arrives inside the room, his presence sending an air of authority.

Arthur positions himself in the center of the circle, the wooden planks creaking beneath his steps as he strides, finally coming to a halt with his gaze directed at me. A look of disgust fills his features when he takes in my appearance, turning away as if he no longer can look at me.

I want to snarl at him, claw at him like a goddamn animal until his skin is unrecognizable from all the lacerations. I want to see how his skin bleeds, the dark color mixing with the dark, isolated room we are confined to in more ways than one.

I notice the sophisticated shirt he’s wearing, with the top button unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. Jeans cling to his legs like a second skin, and my blood chills as I recognize those pants from the person who kneeled outside the window with those exact shoes. He was there, knowing how terrified I would be.

Fucking psychopath.

Arthur’s upper lip curls up in a distasteful smirk as he stares at me. “That’s a nasty wound you got there.” His voice is dark, filled with promises of torture and pain as he speaks, making an involuntary shiver course through me.

With one step, he’s before me.

He runs a hand along my jaw, holding it locked in place, while I desperately try to get away from him. If not physically, then mentally. However, that only leads to him gripping me with a force stronger than one would imagine coming from a seventy-something man with liver spots and discolorations on his ugly skin. His touch on me is so unwelcome; it feels like ants crawl over my skin, trying to pry their way inside and feast on my organs. He compels me to keep meeting his eyes, ones that are almost as dark as the master’s.

He’s not your master anymore!

But it seems like it’s impossible to break old habits.

“Tell me, my dear child, does it hurt?”

A smile spreads over his lips as he stares at me with an amusement only the Grimhill brothers can possess. A smile that’s all too wide, showing his crooked and nasty teeth with its bad breath washing over my face.

His palm strokes my cheek, making trepidation slither across my arms like a snake. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine the ghost of Grey’s subtle touch instead, and if I concentrate enough, I can remember the way my skin tingled with each of his touches. But then I open my eyes and am met with the deadened gaze of Arthur Grimhill, fury grazing them as he stares down at me, and my body stiffens while my mind realizes it was all an illusion.

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