Page 46 of Deviant Illusions

Everyone’s attention is on her, specifically her bump, and the soon-to-be grandparents don’t show any joy. Rowan and Lennox are both invested too as they pause their conversation to watch it unfold.

22

DELILAH

Dampness was the first thing that assaulted my senses when I was locked in this room. Both the smell and the feel of it against the back of my thighs as I sit on the stone floor. The cold seeps through the back of my jeans and the stones are slimy. I can’t get my hands free from the rope around my wrists to help myself, remove the hood from my face, or get away from that disgusting texture sitting on top of the stones.

Kane is a fucking prick. He hasn’t spoken to me or taunted me. That’s his usual preference. Even when he was Ghost, he had to taunt me in some way. This is just strange.

The gag dries my mouth out, and I kick out to attempt to gain enough momentum to stand. I’ve gotten close to it before, but he’ll always come in and silently push me onto my back. Fucking asshole. He could at least take the hood off my head so I can see him be a coward. No, instead, he acts like a creep and leaves me in a damp room without telling me why he has a vendetta against me.

Multiple pairs of footsteps get closer. A pair of heels mix with the boots and dress shoes. It’s only been boots so far. I stare through the black hood covering my face like I can see throughthe tightly compact threads that don’t allow even a pinprick of light through.

The steps get closer, and I roll onto my side. There’s definitely something wrong with me because I’m more pissed at the fact he’s going to humiliate me in front of people than him kidnapping me. But that can be a problem for another day.

Maybe I’ll actually give therapy a fair chance when I get the fuck away from him.

I manage to get to my knees as the heavy door creaks open, scraping against the stone floor, then the heeled steps get closer as the booted steps remain outside. They stand in front of me and roughly grip my jaw. Something scratches over the hood against my neck, and I wince as it’s roughly pulled off my head. The harsh lights blind me, blurring the people in front of me into unrecognizable blobs.

Until she holds my face tighter and hisses, “Silly girl, what did you do?”

My eyes slowly open and my jaw would be on the floor if it wasn’t for my mother’s hand keeping it in place. I haven’t seen her since I was released from the hospital and decided that existing in their presence wasn’t worth it if I couldn’t live. I look to the side as dress shoes tap on the stone floor to see my father. Bile burns up my throat.

They both look exactly the same and they haven’t even allowed their wrinkles to stay in the decade since I last saw them. My father doesn’t meet my eyes and my chest heaves despite being stationary. He looks exactly like he does in my nightmares—the fucked up, fake ones. Even down to the watch on his wrist.

A masked man stands at the door. But it’s not Kane, this one is shorter. My heart hammers against my ribcage. He didn’t take me. He didn’t do this. It was them. I try to pull my head back out of my mother’s clutches. I won’t go back to that fucking hospital. They’re not drugging me again, and I’ll kill myself before theyever lock me away again. Death of my body will be my choice, death of my mind puts me back under their control.

My mother tightens her hold, her fingers and thumb digging into my cheeks and nails scratching my skin. I don’t give a fuck about the pain, or if she mauls me. I can fight back this time because they don’t have a right to me.

She looks down at me, gagged and bound, like I’m a nuisance. The toe of her pointy heels hit my knees and she sighs as she lets go of my face. I fall back, unable to prevent it, and my hands slam into the hard ground. She leans over me as I twist them, attempting to free myself from the restraints. But she roughly grips the edge of the cotton wrapped over my mouth, scratching my cheeks with her perfectly manicured nails, because a lady of her standing should never be in an unkempt state. God forbid, her hands ever show the hard work she puts in while beating her children. My loving mother doesn’t untie the knot at the back of my head. That would be too caring for her cold cunt heart. Instead, she drags it down my face and drops it to hang around my neck.

Kane showed me more warmth when he placed a noose around my neck than the cunt I fell out of does with the cotton gag.

“Fuck you,” I spit, trying to sit up.

Her heel presses against my sternum, the toe of her shoe pressing against my tit, and she snarls, “You are a stupid girl, just like your sisters.”

I laugh as my hands go numb and prod her singular weakness. “It must be something in that toxic womb of yours that made us all defective, so why don’t you get the fuck off me and go back to being a mother without children?”

Mother Dearest leans further into me with disgust etched into her features. The disappointment doesn’t affect me like it used to, there’s no yearning to be better or hope that one dayshe’ll treat me how other mothers do their daughters. There’s only the heavy weight of acceptance that the ever poised Lizbeth is still the same person as she digs her heel further into my ribs with her dark hair neatly pulled into a French chignon without any wispy flyaways sticking up.

I already know what she’s going to say and voice it for her. “What? I’m a slut?” I scoff. “I’d rather be a slut than a frigid, cold cunt like you.” I spit, and it lands on her knee. “You’re a bitch and we’re all going to celebrate when you die.”

Another pair of heels slam through the hallway. They echo from the force of the person’s steps, and she straightens up. Wiping the spit off her knee, she smiles and goes to her husband’s side. Like fucking always.

And I laugh, my entire body shaking as I watch them stand together.

“Oh, Mom, some habits really are hard to break. You’re still going to him after hitting your children. Do you do it because you know that we don’t give a fuck about you?”

“There is no ‘we,’ Delilah.” Malevolence fills her low voice as I attempt to sit up.

I shake my head and refuse to hold my tongue as I ask my father, “How the fuck did you manage to getthatpregnant? Not once, but three times?” I laugh as I rock back, looking up at the stone ceiling, specifically the damp spot that is the cause for the smell I’ve been stuck with. “If you tell me we’re adopted, I’ll never be happier than knowing I’m no part of you fucking freaks.”

“Delilah,” he snaps. “Do not curse.”

My laugh gets louder, covering the sound of the heels getting closer, and I roll my head to look at him. “Why?” I stick my bottom lip out dramatically. “Will you lock me up again, just to be tormented by your doctor friends?”

He pales, making his light hair that I inherited even more obvious as sweat beads at his hairline. My mother can’t allow herself to be forgotten, so she steps around him, filling my vision as she lowers her voice to ask, “Do you remember?”

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