Page 57 of Tainted Serenity

“Our weekly game is here. Hide-and-seek, ladies and gentlemen.”

With a deep breath, I stare ahead of me, disgusted at the fact that they think it’s entertaining to play a game that is meant to kill others. The thought of Naya being in there somewhere is enough to make the fire crack inside me, like a newly started bonfire as it devours the branches.

My eyes catch sight of a bald guard standing beside Irene, knowing I have spotted my target. His expression reflects one of sourness, and with a deep breath, I focus on the task at hand. Arthur exerts his authority over me by forcing me to do this, and apparently, this guard took the life of one of Arthur’s closest friends. I’m kept from the details, prohibited from asking questions.

He keeps me locked inside the basement cell, now equipped with a mattress and blanket obtained after months of executing his dirty work. I know I have earned certain privileges being his enforcer, allowing me to wander the halls freely whenever I like. Yet, my own mind is my only companion, as everyone else remains locked inside their rooms. Freedom is an illusion, shattered by the presence of the surveillance cameras installed everywhere, along with the guards stationed on the upper floors.

When the crowd starts moving out of the parlor room in a state of frenzied panic, I move closer to it, gripping the knife in my hand again as I feel my knuckles tighten with the grip and bruises on my skin. The final one to exit the room is Irene, leaving the guard alone.

Centering myself on the present, I make myself forget my surroundings. It has become easier to do this with time, fighting my inner self until I forget who I am or where I came from. Arthur wants me to become a soulless beast, and that’s what I have to become, and in return, save my little doll.

A sudden tap on my shoulder makes my body jerk, and with swift movements, I corner the person behind me with the knife pressed against their throat. My chest heaves as I take in the man, slightly shorter than I, with a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and cheeks. Almost as sharp as mine, his cheekbones cut a rough contour along his sides. I press the knife harder, not enough to spill blood, but hard enough to slit his throat if he decides to move.

There is something so eerily familiar about him that it has shivers racing down my spine. The longer I stare at him, the more enveloped I become in his cocoon of danger and poison. It’s a toxic kind of potion, one that’s forced down my throat as my vision becomes hazy, but I cannot possibly tell if it’s because of rage or despair. Perhaps a mix of both.

Memories flush my mind, forcing tears to seep into the depths of my soul as I fight myself and my urges. I press the knife harder against his skin, tragic rivulets of blood trailing down as I observe them with a sick fascination. Anything is better than the eyes staring back at me.

Rainy nights filled with laughter despite the cold.

Sharing cigarettes while running away from the lady of the house.

Him begging me to never let him go.

I barely notice unwanted tears trailing down my cheeks until I taste the salty flavor on my tongue, and with the remaining strength within me, I push the knife harder, forcing more blood to seep down. The truth of the situation creeps into my mind, sinking its claws in me until there is no way I can forget this event. My body trembles as I stare into the eyes of a man who betrayed me, who left me to die, and whom I ended up at Dankworth Institute to protect.

A blare of pain radiates through my jaw as my head is hit with a punch, causing my body to fall to the floor, and the knife clatters against the surface. I furiously wipe away the pathetic tears, and the only thing that is left within me after the turmoil of dangerous emotions is the one solid feeling; rage. I’m quick on my feet again after grabbing the knife, fists clenching as my nails press into my palm.

“Brother.”

The man speaks, his voice low and much darker than I remember. There is no sign of shock on his face, only a sense of regret in the gaze he casts me. It’s as if he knew I was here, and my heart shatters inside my heart in ways I never expected it could for a man whom I have hated for the past months since finding out he betrayed me.

“Don’t you darebrotherme, Cody,” I seethe, my face flushed from the rage running through my veins until I cannot control myself anymore.

The guard from the room beside must have left, and I cannot help but dread the consequences of my failure to kill him. With a shake of my head, I attempt to ignore that, focusing solely on the man I never wanted to see again.

The anger inside me is reminiscent of a dormant volcano, resting until it eventually bursts out in lava, ruining everything in its path. That volcanic rage surges forth, my fist colliding with his mouth, breaking the skin on his lips as blood trickles down. I’m acting on impulse with no way to stop myself, drowning in the despair he caused me months ago.

Grabbing my shirt, he pushes me against the wall and traps me in, grabbing with such force it’s hard to maneuver control.

“Ease down, Grey,” he orders me, his ocean blue eyes so far from mine yet carrying the same glint of familiarity, fury racing in his veins.

My chest pounds so hard inside my ribcage that I fear it will collapse, with the ghost of my past standing before me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask him, attempting to free myself from his iron grip but failing.

“I could ask the same about you, but I already know why.” His voice is too calm for my liking, as if meeting me doesn’t affect him in any way.

As I finally manage to free myself from his grip, I push him away with both palms until he stumbles away from me. My chest heaves with the onslaught of emotions swirling through my mind.

“You fucking betrayed me,” I spit at him, saliva flying out of my mouth as my voice quivers with disbelief. “You ratted me out to Emilio Ricci and sent him the pictures of the drug leader. I killed him to save the both of us, and you tried setting me up?”

It takes every ounce of my willpower to restrain the overpowering urge to attack him again—a self-control I didn’t think I possessed. It’s as if I am dissociating from my body, fighting against the tempestuous waves of my emotions, the waves crashing against my mind like they would on the shore. It’s a painful battle—one of the episodes I’ve been forced to fight many times throughout my life. He is as well-built as I am, a striking resemblance between two brothers, despite hating each other.

“I didn’t do that,” he replies, his voice a quiet whisper in the corridor. “Trust me, I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done, and you were never supposed to end up here at the dollhouse. They promised me that, and they will pay for breaking that promise. I’ve been fucking trapped here for two years, all because of their promise of not bringing you here, yet they fucking did.” He shakes his head, trying to clear his jumbled thoughts. “But it doesn’t matter now,” he repeats. “It’s already done. But this isn’t why I came here; I brought you to meet Naya.”

My head swirls with confusion, hurt, and despair, all lacing into a noxious concoction of emotions. How can he disregard me like this? I fucking hate him for all he has done, for betraying me and making me take the blame, all the while he ran away like a coward. Somewhere deep down, I still care about him. Somewhere below the surface, there’s still a big brother who longs for his sibling.

As he mentions Naya’s name, my thoughts shift abruptly to her. It’s only now that I realize he is the man who danced with her at the ball the other week. I knew I recognized him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until this moment. At the thought that he touched my little doll with his stained hands, an animalistic primal need to put him in his place arises within me, reminiscent of a blend of anger, jealousy, and confusion.

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