Page 30 of Scarred
“The point is, I spent hours there. Usually taking my sketchbook and drawing until my fingers went numb. It was the only place I could go where the people who hurt me wouldn’t follow.”
I crouch, my hands sliding around his shoulders, pulling him upright into a sitting position. “And everyone let me disappear, even though they all saw what went on. Perhaps they never cared.” I shrug. “Or maybe they thought alone time would help my ‘fragile mental state.’”
My gut churns and I bring the joint to my lips, allowing the smoke to seep from the edges of my mouth as I speak. “But some people are beyond saving. Areyoubeyond saving, Antony?”
He shakes his head.
“That’s what they all say.” My fingers rest on the dip between his collarbone, directly below his neck. “If I were to press right here, it would drop you down and cut off your breath, but only for a moment. Do you know what it feels like to choke repeatedly for hours?”
“No,” he whimpers.
“I can show you if you’d like.” I pause. “Or you can tell me the truth, and hope that I’ll beyoursavior.”
His eyes narrow, and even through his pain, defiance swirls through his irises. “You’re no savior. Just a disfiguredfreak.”
Anger slams into me, and my hand whips out before I can control it, the sound of my rings smacking bone loud in the concrete room. He flies to the side, grunting as blood pours from his mouth. He spits and a tooth flies onto the floor. I ignore his whimpers, lifting up my foot and slamming it down on the side of his face, my abdomen tensing from the rise and fall of my leg as I stomp his cheek, feeling the bone fracture beneath my heel.
Red liquid pools around my feet and I back up a space, closing my eyes, and panting through the torrential downpour of fire that’s raining on my insides from his words.
“Everyonealwaysunderestimates me.” I sigh, stepping forward again, this time to press my foot on his wrist above the snapped bone. “But you’re wrong, Antony. Because right now? I’m yourgod.”
I grind my boot down, and he grits his teeth, a long groan escaping from his clenched lips.
“Don’t be shy, sweetheart.” I chuckle. “You can scream as loud as you want. No one will hear.”
His working hand flies to my shin, his fingernails trying to claw my flesh through the fabric of my pants. Bending down close to his face, my voice drops to a whisper. “Just a few paltry words, Antony, and all this can be over. Tell me what you saw.”
“Will you… will you let me go?” he cries.
Laughing, I flick the end of my joint, pinpricks of pleasure racing through me as the ashes rain down on his sweaty, snot-filled face. “I promise to let you free.”
“I sa-saw you and the lady.” His words are deformed, thes’s sounding liket’s, and every few seconds he spits more blood at my feet.
I lighten the pressure on his wrist.
“In the windowpane, it… it looked like you were being intimate. Pl-please, please, I beg of you…My Lord.”
A satisfied breath escapes me, a thrill rushing through my veins, even as his words remind me of how stupid and reckless I was.
“I appreciate your honesty.” Walking behind him, my hands slide around his neck and grip just beneath his ears. “And lucky for you, Iama merciful god.” I twist until bones crack and separate. His limp body drops to the ground beneath me, his eyes wide and vacant, a pool of blood forming from where it dribbles out of his mouth.
“Be free, Antony.”
I bring the joint to my lips, puffing one last time before dropping it on his corpse, allowing the lit end to burn through the eye of the lion in the center of his chest, a strange sense of satisfaction weaving through me as I watch it turn to ash.
CHAPTER13
Sara B.
“I’d like to speak with Uncle Raf,” I say to Xander, who sits across from me as Sheina pins my hair. She’s idly gossiping with Ophelia, who’s crocheting off to the side.
He pushes up his glasses, bringing a thick cigar to his mouth and puffing on the end. The smell of the tobacco is sweet and smoky as it hits my nostrils, and it reminds me of sitting in my father’s study for hours on end while he worked. A pang of homesickness hits the center of my gut, making me long for the sunshine-filled days in Silva.
“I’ll arrange it,” Xander says.
I force a smile. My uncle told me that Xander was my confidant. The one who I could depend on; the ace in the castle. But the longer I’m here, the more distrust replaces the confidence I arrived with.
“Sheina, Ophelia. Leave us,” I say.
