Page 9 of Tainted Serenity

My gaze falls on my knuckles, noticing how blue, and purple-beaten they are after I abuse the wall. Not a single knuckle on my right hand is left untouched as the crimson liquid runs down my fingers, leaving a satisfying sight. The blood represents the uncontrollable anger boiling underneath my skin like a kettle left on the stove for too long, and that is the only emotion that can keep me alive right now, just as it always has.

Even when I try to remove the dream from the forefront of my mind, it continues to replay, and I wish I could drag it out of my head, if only to get some peace and quiet. My brother was in it, stabbing my beautiful, tainted doll as she screamed at me, and the anger rages over me until my already bloodied knuckles met the wall once again. I do not even feel the impact of the skin breaking.

I know my brother wasn’t there when it all happened, but he might as well have been. He has failed me time and time again when all I wanted was a brother who loved me just as I loved him. Our parents abandoned us, and I thought he at least would love me enough to stay, but no. He made me take the blame for all the shit we did together, all the while betraying me.

The energy drains from my body like a water tap, gushing out of me as it leaves me depleted, and I collapse on the floor with my back against the hard wall. Tears burn behind my eyelids which I refuse to let fall. I need to continue to be sane and keep my thoughts on track if I’m going to be able to figure out how the fuck I’m going to get out of here. I don’t even know how long I have been inside this hideous and lonely room, but it feels like days have passed considering how worn out my body feels, and my stomach rumbles with hunger.

Naya’s and my last moment together plays out in my head, along with the horrible dream and the reality of her being hurt and suffering all alone. Like a moth drawn to flames, she craves pain; it’s a destructive and dangerous allure, even when she’s aware of its consequences. She uses it as a coping mechanism; I know she does, but being subjected to harm involuntarily by an unknown man is something she does not want.

I will always regret not running away with her when we had the chance; instead, we fell asleep in that mysterious cabin after I made love to her. How they found us, I don’t fucking know. Now it feels as if that last moment with her in the cabin was our last goodbye, and the thought of that has my heart clenching until it feels like it will break into a million pieces, like shattered glass.

A creaking sound breaks me out of my reverie as my nerves go on high alert. Inching closer, the creaking hinges on the door make a creeping sound that steadily grows in proximity, in need of being anointed.

I rise on unsteady legs, refusing to sit down if someone is coming, since it will only give me a disadvantage I cannot afford. My knees are weak as dizziness from hunger takes over, but I lean against the wall, and it soon subsides.

As the door opens further, the creaking only grows and becomes more ominous, like a warning that something horrifying lurks around the corner, and I stand a little straighter to prepare myself for what’s on the other side. The moment my eyes land on a pair of shoes in the door opening, the leather seems to shimmer while capturing the glow of the lamplight from outside.

I steel my nerves as an old man whose weathered face is full of deep wrinkles etched around his eyes and mouth comes into view. His attire is simple yet dignified, accentuating his frame in all the right places, but despite that, there’s a sense of disgust lingering over him, which makes him look terrible. Clad in dark clothing that camouflages with the walls’ color, he appears to seamlessly belong here amid the bleak surroundings and oppressive atmosphere. The haunting rhythm of his leathery shoes fills the space as he approaches.

I assess his face, and my heart skips a beat as it feels like a bolt of lightning strikes me without warning. The adrenaline coursing through my body feels like a switch has been flipped, and I’m suddenly on high alert, well aware of who stands before me.

That motherfucker.

“You!” I seethe out, the anger rushing through me like the worst kind of feeling.

The old man who stood next to Emilio Ricci the day Naya disappeared from me stands before me, having the audacity to show his ugly face.

The way he walks toward me is deliberate, slow, and as if he has all the time in the fucking world. As a result, my anger erupts, becoming a raging inferno, fueled by his nonchalance like gasoline on an already burning fire.

The emotion of rage is tantalizing and can sweep through you like a tornado, destroying everything in its wake, and that is exactly what it’s doing to me right now as my view suddenly becomes bathed in a red haze.

Before I even have time to realize what it is I’m doing, I have him pushed against the wall, anger seeping through me as I clench my jaw, staring at the ugly man in my hold.

“Where is she?”

My vocal cords tighten, and my breath becomes shallow with the lack of oxygen as I feel the unleashing torrent of my shout. I press my arm against his windpipe, causing his eyes to widen, and the sight of him like this is a goddamn relief, almost akin to ecstasy.

“Where the fuck is she?”

The memory of her being stabbed by him plays in my mind with an overwhelming intensity, making me unable to calm down. At this point, he’s gasping for breath with a fearful gaze, clawing at my arm but still not replying to my question.

“Where. The. Fuck. Is. She?”

I repeat myself, finding a type of calmness within me as I lower my voice, although still not talking with any less lethality. He should fear me and tremble in my presence. He is only an old, seventy-something man who gets off on hurting other people, especially younger ones. I bang his upper body into the wall behind him, his head hitting it as a groan slips from him when I let go of the hold against his windpipe and instead grab his collar. His face turns a red color from the lack of oxygen, panting as he struggles to breathe. When he refuses to answer me, I press my arm over his throat once again, and this time he is too weak to fight back.

I lock eyes with his darkened ones, no longer fearful, as a sly smile stretches across his lips, his eyes glinting with satisfaction that makes confusion rack over me. Something shifts within his demeanor, a sudden calm settling over him, which has me raising an eyebrow in obvious bewilderment.

And then a sudden shock of electricity courses through my body, unlike anything I have ever felt before,making meaware of someone else inside the basement room. My muscles spasm and contract like they have minds of their own, all while my mind struggles to make sense of anything going on around me. The sensation feels as if something is emanating from every nerve ending in my body.

My body collapses to the ground, and it feels as if the world around me shifts beneath my feet. As I lie there, ignoring the electrifying pain rushing through me, the sound of the old man’s spluttering coughs reaches my ears. He struggles to regain his normal breathing after losing it, which makes the ordeal worth it.

Through half-open eyes, I see a guard standing beside the old man. He, too, is dressed in dark clothes, his uniform consisting of a jacket and a pair of trousers. I grunt while trying to sit up, but it doesn’t work very well, and I see the black object in his hand. A fucking taser.

That goddamn piece of shit tased me.

After several minutes of what feels like an eternity, the pain in my muscles finally starts to wear off, and I’m able to at least sit up and rest my back against the wall digging into my skin.

The guard and the old man just stare at me without saying a word, and when my eyes are finally able to fully open as my consciousness clears, I see him brushing away invisible dust from his sophisticated suit that is worth more than my entire outfit combined.

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