Page 17 of Tainted Serenity

Slouched against the medical chair, still restrained, I mutter, “Grey. Where is he?”

The restraints no longer bother me; the only thing that does is the newfound agony that pierces through me like a blade, along with the haunting question of where Grey is.

A thick tension fills the room in a second, only to quickly disappear. In my periphery, I catch his body stiffening upon hearing my question before he reverts to his emotionless shell.

“I have no idea who Grey is,” he simply states, the first time talking since he restrained me to the chair.

“I do.”

The voice coming from the wide open door sends shivers through my body, so similar to the master’s that it’s disconcerting. It makes me want to sink underground, only to never be found again, and especially not by him. Arthur comes up before the chair, looking down at me with blackened eyes like an adult would a disobedient child. With his hands behind his back, it makes the fabric of his suit wrinkle, as if he couldn’t bother ironing it.

My mouth goes dry as I stare at him, waiting for a further explanation. He gives me a mischievous smile.

“I know precisely where he is.” His eyes narrow as he watches me, observing my facial expressions. When I don’t react, he continues. “If you behave like the good girl I know you have been for my spiteful brother, I promise that you will meet Grey.”

There is something in the way he says it that immediately makes me doubt him. I observe as his eyes twitch, a flicker of emotions that tell all the lies he consumes. A nervous tick, and finding that out gives me an advantage.

Always know your enemies’ weaknesses and the emotions behind their body language.

I stare him dead in the eyes, not an iota of feelings in my face as I say my next words. “Well, promises are the sweetest lies, aren’t they?”

My voice is meant to taunt him, get on his nerves until he doesn’t know what to do, and I succeed in that. For in the next moment, I feel a burning, persistent sensation on my cheek where he slapped me. The doctor beside me does nothing, but I feel the tension in the room like a living force. The corners of my mouth raise in a mocking smile, letting him know I don’t believe in his bullshit. It doesn’t matter how much I behave; he still won’t let me see Grey. Which means I won’t behave.

Game fucking on, old man.

“Never disrespect me again, you insolent child!”

The spit flies out of his mouth when he screams at me, which disgusts me, as it ends up in my face with no possibility of wiping it away. The fury is evident on his face, and I see the way he wants to punish me more than just slap me.

“Behave, I will take you to your room.”

The way he says the words makes him sound like a robot, moving like a machine with mechanical precision. He doesn’t care when he removes the restraints around my breasts, and his roughness only escalates as he forces me out of the chair, causing another wave of pain to ripple through me as an unwanted groan slips from my lips. There is nothing I can do to protest or stop him. He has full authority over me, precisely like the master had.

I’m his doll now.

Chapter 7

Grey

Split lips, broken bones,and a torn-out heart. Blood that coats my tongue in a rusty flavor, sending tendrils of salt to my taste buds. Eyes and temples aching from the pain that has finally started to fade away, like a slow thudding sensation that refuses to leave me alone. The agony is finally like a faint ghost haunting me now that Arthur is no longer with me, and after what feels like weeks of torture, it has finally subsided, if only for a short while.

Every part of my body still aches from his slow torture, punching and hurting me in ways until I can barely stand up. I can no longer tell what body part hurts because every damn part of me does.

The guard who kept Arthur company when they were here the last time didn’t even lock me up properly, knowing I would not even be able to go anywhere as I’m too weak. Too fucking broken. I cannot tell how long I have been in here now or when they were here the last time. It must have been days; it’s impossible to tell without a clock or window, the only company being my own fucking shattered head while they tortured me day in and day out.

If I had been stronger or able to endure more pain than I already can, maybe then I could have used this as an opportunity to escape. But I can’t move anywhere; my chest wheezing as I breathe. My stomach feels like it has been abused thousands of times over.

I sit on the floor, not acknowledging how cold it is. In my slumped position, I keep my eyes glued to the ground while my head hangs low against the wall. I watch the drops fall down, one by one.

Drip, drip, drip.

My nose is bleeding once again, probably from a vein Arthur burst when he slammed his fist into it last time. I feel the liquid run down my nose and onto my mouth before it drips onto the floor below. I can see the drops, but still, I can’t feel any pain. As if I’m entirely numb, unfaced by the world’s horror despite not being that at all.

I know I’m sweating, an aftereffect from the pain I can’t really feel, and the sweat makes my red-black hair cling to my forehead until it tickles and itches, but I can’t even lift my arms to get it off me. Weak and pathetic, just the way my dad and mom fought so hard to make me.

Their misfit.

I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. They would be fucking proud of me.

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