Page 73 of Devoured
His eyes landed on me. Teeth flashing in what might have been a smile.
“And you, little whore—you’re exactly the kind of sinner I was made to break. How predictable that he would bring you here.”
The Executioner stepped between us, blade raised.
But Gallows lifted one pale hand. His fingers were too long, joints in places joints shouldn’t be. Wire threaded through his skin, like he’d been sewn together from spare parts.
“Now, now. Violence is so... crude. The woman must confess first. Purification before punishment, as it should be.”
Pain exploded across my skin.
It felt like I was being skinned from the inside out. Like every shameful thought I’d ever had was being carved into my flesh with burning needles.
Words appeared—branded into me by invisible hands.
The names of everyone I’d hurt. Every lie I’d told. Every selfish moment burned into my skin like I was livestock.
The pain was beyond anything I’d known.
Worse than Helena’s claws.
Worse than the bruises and cuts from my marriage.
Worse than what Alan and Varnar had done to me.
This was the pain of absolute truth. Of having every hidden part of yourself dragged into the light and judged guilty.
“Tell me,”Gallows said, his hollow chest resonating through my skeleton, “what did you do with our Executioner? What sins did you commit on that table of bones?”
I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat like broken glass. More text appeared on my arms, chest, and thighs—spelling out every shameful thought in burning letters. The pain worsened each time I stayed silent, building until I thought my mind might crack.
Gallows circled me like a predator, his scripture-stitched robes rustling with each step. The sound was like pages turning in a book written in blood.
“For every silence, a lash. For every lie, the rope.”
The text burned deeper when I thought about lying. It wasn’t just on my skin anymore—I could feel it burrowing into me, carving through muscle and bone.
Behind the priest, the Executioner fought against the invisible force that held him back. His blade scraped against the stone as he struggled to reach me.
“You corrupted our sacred instrument of judgment,”Gallows pressed, his voice rising like a sermon. “Tell me how it felt to be claimed by a monster. Tell me how your body responded to his touch. Tell me how you moaned while tortured souls watched from above.”
The truth spilled out in broken gasps.
“I wanted it,”I sobbed, the words torn from someplace deep inside. “I chose it. I let him touch me and I—”
The pain flared white-hot.
“I enjoyed it.”
“More,”Gallows demanded, circling closer. “Tell me how your body betrayed your soul.”
“I was wet for him,”I screamed. “I spread my legs and begged him to claim me. I came while those poor souls watched.”Each word was agony—but lying was worse. The text would’ve burned straight through to my heart if I tried to deceive him.
“And while you rutted like an animal,”Gallows continued, voice smooth as poison, “did you think of your friends?”
“I didn’t think about them,”I whispered, the admission breaking something inside me. “I forgot they existed. All I could think about was him inside me.”
“Such honesty,”Gallows murmured, almost reverent. “Such beautiful truth.”
