Page 32 of Scarred Sacrifice
“Fuck,” he breathes.
Fuck, indeed. My senses slowly begin to restore, and I force myself to take a step back. His hand falls away, releasing my hair. I look around to see people looking on and gossiping. His gaze is molten, pinning me in place. I clear my throat and push my shoulders back, shutting out the way he’s looking at me. That kiss sparked something inside me I’ve never felt before.
“Game on, Lord O’Connor,” I state cooly.
He smirks. “Oh Sparky, after we’ve kissed like that, you can call me Nyx.” He winks.
I roll my eyes and walk away, flipping him off with my middle finger, not giving a rat’s ass what those stuck-up assholes think.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MORRIGAN
“Now ladies,you may find the kick back a little too much, and no one will think bad of your for tapping out. We don’t want you bruising and ruining your body for those lovely ballgowns on Sunday night,” Henry says. It’s late in the afternoon and this is the first of the many games that Henry has set up.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Henry. My father took me shooting every weekend in the summer when I was a child,” Sherry says, waving him off. For once, I’m liking Sherry.
We all step up to our table where protective headphones are placed, along with a choice of guns. We are out in the open and there are no targets to hit, so I’m wondering what exactly it is we are shooting.
“Okay, now the moving targets will come out of that barn over there. Your bullets each have an individual marker on them, so we will know who has won.”
“What are our targets?” I ask as I pick up the Glock 18 pistol.
Henry grins. “Now that would spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it?” he asks as he moves out of the way. Edna had gone for a lie down, saying she felt a little dizzy. I feel Henry’s gaze on me, and I try not to shift uncomfortably. I look to Nyx, whose eyes are onHenry. “Okay, ready?” Henry bellows as he moves further to the side, waving a hand.
A loud klaxon irrupts and the barn doors open. I train my gun on the door and wait for the tiniest of movement, I wonder if there has been an error. Then suddenly, people start piling out. My mouth drops open, stunned. Others start firing at them and the sound makes me jump. What the fuck is going on? They look like homeless addicts.
“Now, now, Miss Fox. No need to have a conscience. They would all be dead within six months. You are doing them a favour.” Henry laughs.
The others around me chuckle as they continue to fire. Someone hits a poor man in the leg, and he cries out and falls to the floor. They keep firing, and even though their aims are terrible, they still hit them on random body parts. Not killing them but merely injuring them. The cries and screams coming from them will haunt my dreams. I blink and look at Henry. He’s watching; it’s a test. He’s testing me. I grit my jaw and take aim at a guy holding his bleeding arm, panicked and running.
Sherry laughs. “It’s fun to watch them squirm.”
I swallow the bile that threatens to rise up my throat. My heart is beating so hard and fast in my chest, and I’m finding it hard to regulate my breathing. I have to kill innocent people, because if I don’t, what then? What will Henry do? I bite down hard on my bottom lip, take my aim, exhale a loose breath, and pull the trigger, watching as my bullet hits him directly between the eyes. He drops to the ground, dead. I exhale a breath, feeling tears sting the back of my eyes.
I blink rapidly, keeping the tears, the weakness locked down. I can break later. This isn’t my first time taking a life, but it’s the first time I’ve ever killed an innocent person.
Nyx fires and kills an older guy, while the others fire freely, toying with them, making their final moment horrific and agonising.
Locking down my inner turmoil, I fire my gun again and again in quick succession, taking out each and every one of them until there is nothing but silence. I stand there completely rigid, the gun gripped so tight in my hand I can’t put it down. I can’t move. I’ve just shot and killed innocent people; people that were already struggling through their lives. They came here for what? What did Henry promise them? A way out? Drugs? I feel sick to my stomach.
“Valentina,” I hear murmured. I just stand there, unblinking. “Valentina,” is repeated again. I frown and turn my head slightly, seeing Nyx. He steps forward and cups my face. “Come with me,” he instructs, carefully uncurling my fingers from the gun.
“Oh dear, too much for Miss Fox, was it?” Henry jokes.
“Not now, Henry,” Nyx sighs, irritated.
“Wait, don’t forget your trophy,” Sherry says, laughing.
Ignoring her, Nyx leads me back to the house and upstairs to our room. Closing the door behind us, he leads me into the bathroom and closes the door behind us. He begins running the huge, clawed bathtub while I stand there in the middle of the room, completely emotionless. The horror of what I’ve just done repeats over and over in my head. I’m as bad as them. Just as evil and as cruel as them.
“Let’s get you in the tub,” Nyx states.
I allow him to undress me, not caring at being naked in front of him. Right now it is completely insignificant. He leads me to the bath and helps me in, and as I lower myself into the hot soapy water, Nyx pulls an extravagant chair from the corner of the room over and sits next to me. I lay back and just stare straight ahead, staring at the slow but steady drip of the tap.
“I should have warned you about this. I’m sorry,” he sighs.
I slowly turn to look at him. “You knew and you didn’t warn me?” I ask. His jaw is set tight, but he gives me a sharp nod. “I killed people; innocent people. I will forever have that on my conscious. I will forever replay the image of their lifeless bodies dropping to the floor like they are nothing but garbage,” I croak out. My voice breaks with the raw emotion clawing its way through my body. He looks down at his hands, and my teeth grinds with pure fury and hatred, and not just for him, but myself, too. “You didn’t think I would do it,” I state, reading the expression on his face. “You didn’t think I would go through with it and that would be a point to you. You cared more about gaining a fucking point than those poor innocent people’s lives.” I choke back a sob. I will not cry in front of him. He does not deserve to see my pain, and he does not deserve to witness my personal torment. “Get out,” I fume.
