Page 119 of Betrayed in Blood
Even the beast wished for the hard surface to lay on.
He wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep again, but his eyes popped open at the clatter of the lock on the door being released. His body tensed, preparing for the next round of torture—or worse—the tainted blood.
The door scraped along the stone floor as it was pushed open. The torchlight from the hallway cast a long shadow of the lone figure. It scurried in, quick as a rat, and closed the door.
The beast howled.
Three weeksearlier
I unrolledfrom my fetal position and slowly stretched my aching muscles, stiff from the cold air. Eleven months, and the chill still bothered me. Though not nearly as much as the hard surface of the stone floor, barely tolerable beneath the thin, lumpy pad.
I pushed back my unwashed hair, still expecting to feel the long, dark strands that had been sheared off when I’d first arrived. It had grown to frame my face, but even this short, it was dull and tangled. At some point, they’d chop it off again.
Accustomed to the darkness, I made my way to the bucket in the corner, lifting my knees in a highly exaggerated manner, a macabre march to start the blood flowing, grimacing as the pins and needles sensation worked its way through me. After relieving myself, I continued with my morning ritual, shuffling to a different corner to run my fingers over the scratched markings on the rock wall. I bent and picked up the small stone tucked away in an easy-to-find spot and spent several minutes scratching another mark. I ran my fingers over them as I counted and breathed a sigh, pushing back the tears I thought I’d spent months ago.
Day twenty. Bath day.
Thank god. I didn’t think I could take another day of my own stink.
After running through my exercises, I ran a filthy finger over my teeth. It was the only way to remove the film from the evening until the daily ration of water arrived with the porridge. If I was lucky, they’d include a hardboiled egg.
Even better if they assigned me to a work detail. I hadn’t been given one since my last bath day. Not after I stuck Tallon, my guard, in the neck with a fork. He didn’t die—unfortunately. But he was the floor leader, and no one questioned his right to take whatever female he wanted.
Until I said no.
I’d take the twenty days locked alone in my cell to rape any day. The fear had dissipated months ago, but I wouldn’t give up my hope or my humanity. Not yet.
The dull whack of the billy club on wooden doors brought me around to face mine, placing myself in the middle of the room, ready to defend myself. Or grab the tray the guard slipped through the slit in the bottom of the door.
The next few moments were a fifty-fifty chance of going either way.
When the bolt securing the door slid to the side, I braced myself. They didn’t come to take me for my bath until midday. Maybe I was being assigned to a work detail.
I squinted against the glare of the light as the door burst open. When the shifter came at me, I moved as quickly as I could, but there was nowhere to run in my ten-by-ten cell. It was more my well-honed instinct not to make it easy on anyone meant to harm me.
It was useless to fight, and most of the time, I played the game and appeared weak—but not with this guard. Tallon quickly caught me and slammed me against the hard stone wall. His hand gripped my neck, holding me in place, and I tugged at his fingers as he slowly choked me, my feet dangling an inch from the floor.
His breath stank as he slowly sniffed me, his body leaning into mine. “I should throw you on your mat and take what I want. I should have done it months ago. But the Master has forbidden it. Even after you stuck me in the neck.” He squeezed my breast before running his hand between my legs.
“They think they know you. That you’ve tamed down to a willing slave. That you only acted out because I wanted a taste of you.” His lips hovered over mine, then he continued his sniffing like the good hound he was. He whispered in my ear, “But I know better. They’ll have problems with you. Remember one thing, girl. The Master might have a say during the day, but he’s not here during the long, cold evenings. There are ways to hurt you that will never leave a mark.”
He let go. I dropped to the floor and clutched my aching throat, grateful for the chilled air I slowly sucked in as it numbed the pain.
“The Master has an assignment for you.” He chuckled. “And I can’t think of anyone better for the job. Now get up. You’re to eat your breakfast in the common room today.”
I scurried to my feet, unwilling to give him any excuse to hit me. Not that he needed one, but I wouldn’t lose the opportunity to get out of my cell, even for a day.
I didn’t like the sound of this new assignment, but if it kept me away from this bastard, it was enough. How simple life became when you only had one thing to worry about.
Survival.
Tallon leftme with the women attendants who stripped the ragged shift from me before they pushed me into a wooden tub of cold water. I shivered as they soaped and scrubbed me with harsh brushes until my skin turned red. At least they washed my hair.
A clean shift made of rough fabric wasn’t new. It would have been scoured and bleached many times over. Old stains marred the brown fabric, giving it a mottled appearance. I gave up wondering where the stains came from long ago. Just like I’d stopped wondering if anyone would come for me, or whether they thought me dead.
The first few weeks after my capture, I’d pace my cell over and over again, fighting the claustrophobia and fear that I would never leave this hell hole. Not until I was dead. One year. Five. Longer.
Would I be the same person or forever changed? Would the self-preservation blanket I wrapped myself in morph from the terror of living in this place to fear of everything outside these barren walls? Was it possible I might escape, only to live alone, afraid of my own shadow?
