Page 51 of The Book Reader
I’m standing in the middle of a long corridor, and the only light is coming from torches, but they are spaced out so far that they might as well not be here. Not sure which way to go, I walkforward, fear pooling in my stomach. I’m starting to wish I had some kind of weapon with me.
Passing one door, a woman is hanging from the ceiling by her ankles. Her throat has been slit, and her blood drips into a bucket below. My hand covers my mouth at the sight, afraid to make any sound. I don’t know where I am, it’s a dream—I know it is?—.
Not wanting to look anymore, I move quickly, stepping lightly and trying to keep my feet as quiet as possible. I enter another room, where two women are laughing at the man tied to a table. Both women are daemons of some kind; one has long gray hair, the other has bright orange hair. The one with grey hair is naked and sitting on his face, grinding her pussy down on his mouth, muffling his cries. The other one is sawing off his hard dick, the blood splattering all over her hands. She licks it clean, and I watch as the pleasure from the taste of it washes over her face. I can see his hands fisted at his sides; he can’t move or scream out for help, and I whimper at the sight before me.
Whatisthis place?
“My Rose.” Hearing a whisper, I turn my head to see Gaelan up ahead. His blue eyes glow in the darkness while he grins, then turns and strolls into the shadows. I wait for him to get to the next torch so I can see him, but he’s vanished.
“Gaelan,” I call out and run down the corridor, rooms are flashing past me, each one a scream of pain comes rushing out from.
Pausing at the next room to catch my breath, I see a woman with black and green hair. She drinks from a woman’s neck as her claws piston in and out of the woman’s pussy. Blood coats her fingers, making them slip easily in and out; the sounds of the other woman’s flesh ripping echo in my ears. I step forward wanting to help her, but I stop when the womanmoans, and it’s then that I realize she’senjoyingthis. I frown, not understanding what this place is; it feels like a dream, but it also feels so real at the same time.
I move toward the cries of fear from the next room. There’s a young woman on her knees, she’s maybe twenty years old, she’s naked, and her skin is brown from the dirt that covers her. Her hair has been ripped out in places and is matted with blood in others; she has a metal collar around her neck, and tears are in her eyes.
A large daemon with black eyes is fucking her ass, his cock so large that I know it’s tearing her apart. He moans and throws his head back, his claws digging into the flesh of her ass as he thrusts into her with so much force she almost shoots off the table. I take a step into the room and freeze when she looks up and shakes her head.
Can she see me?
I go to step forward again, but I’m stopped when another daemon walks in; he has nipple clamps in his hands, and the evil grin that crosses his face makes me shudder with fear. He walks over to her, leans down, and clamps them around her nipples before pulling on them, hard, and making her cry out. He lifts her head, turning it to the side slightly as he uses his fingers to squeeze her lips open. My stomach turns as a string of spit leaves his mouth and slowly drips into hers; her cries become frantic. It’s then that I realize she wasn’t shaking her head at me.
It was at him.
He releases his grip, grabs her hair, and shoves his cock into her mouth. She gags, the choking echoes through the room before she throws up over his cock.
Tears of fear run down my cheeks. I want to go in and help her, I want to rip those daemons from her and take her away. But I can’t. This is just a dream.
I turn and start running again, looking for a way out. The next room is empty, but I can see where someone had been hanging out. The blood puddles and body parts still litter the floor. It smells like shit and something else that I don’t recognize, but whatever it is makes bile gather in my throat. My feet speed up, passing more rooms with bodies in all states of living and dead—this corridor seems never-ending.
Gaelan is up ahead again; this time, he turns and goes into a room.
“Gaelan? Please wait! Where am I?” I run faster, trying to catch up with him, skidding to a stop at the next archway. I look around and shiver from the chill in the room; it’s so dark in here I can hardly see. I lift my hand and whisper, “illuminare per ignem.” Flames dance on my fingers before I wiggle them, and the flames shoot off to light the only candle in the room. My eyes take in the shadows, the chains on the walls; this looks just like the other cells, but something is different - that feeling is making me stay.
My body is trembling with fear when I look down and see the floor covered in blood. Looking up, something catches my eye; in the darkest corner of the cell, a man is chained to the wall, his chest is bare and covered in blood and dirt. Welts ooze blood across his chest from being whipped, and he has a larger stab wound in his stomach. His face is lowered, and it looks like he’s sleeping… or worse, dead.
“Hello?” I call out. Gaelan came into this room; he had to. I saw him…
“My Rose.” He whispers to me again, and my eyes take in the man as he lifts his head, his eyes glowing bright blue in the darkness. A blue I would recognize anywhere.
“Gaelan?” I gasp as I run over to him, and he smiles weakly as I cup his face, tears running down my cheeks. “Whathappened?” He leans into my touch as if it soothes him, but the wounds I can see on his body make me believe differently.
“My Rose.” His voice is so weak that I can hardly make it out. Letting go of his face gently, I move my hands over his arms to the cuffs that are around his wrists. He groans in pain when I touch the bleeding welts, his head falling, hanging limp. I can see blood dripping onto the floor—his blood, and so much of it. He lifts his head again, his glowing blue eyes locking with mine. “My Rose.”
“Gaelan? Oh my god, who did this to you?” My hands cup his cheeks again; I look closer at the bruises on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but starts to fade. “Gaelan?” panicked, I sob as he fades in my hands, something is wrong, this doesn’t feel right. Where did he go?
I look around the cell, not sure what’s going on. Why am I here?
Where am I? This was meant to be a nightmare, but now it feels much worse.
Hearing the chains again and a cry of pain, I turn to see that Gaelan is fading back in; he has another cut on his face, someone has sliced his cheek open, my eyes travel down to his chest, and I can see what looks like an “M” carved into his skin. “Gaelan, who is M?”
“Macy,” he grits.
Panicked, he’ll fade away again. I try to unclip the cuffs, I pull on the clasp, and he groans in pain. “Baby, I’m so sorry, but I have to try.” I pull harder, but they won’t budge. I pull on the chains next, but they’re embedded in the wall. I pull so hard on the chains that my hands cut, leaving blood on them, yet they still won’t move. “Gaelan, I can’t break them.” I’m frantic now as more tears fall down my cheek.
His face lowers again, and his voice is weak. “Rose, you need to get help. This isn’t a dream,” he says, his eyes flashing as he fades away again.
I scream, not wanting this to be real. I need to get him out of here. He can’t die. I turn and look around the cell for something, anything to help me, but I see nothing. He said this isn’t a dream, then surely there must besomethingI can do. Gaelan calls my name again, making me turn back to him; he has another cut along his neck and a bruise over his ribs—someone is hurting him.
