Page 90 of Sold to the Devil
O'Connor starts to walk towards me, his mouth open, but he doesn't get a chance to speak as Law shouts 'patiens', his wand pointed at me. My whole body tenses, I start to convulse in the chair, my jaw clenched so tightly my teeth hurt, but I forbid any sound from escaping my lips.
I close my eyes so they can't see them rolling backward in pain and dig my nails harder into the armrest of the chair, feeling them break under the pressure, blood slowly seeping from my fingertips. It feels like my bones are breaking one by one and my blood has turned to molten lava.
The pain is so intense that I barely hear the teacher yell at him to stop before the spell breaks and I collapse limply onto the chair, only held in a sitting position by the ropes binding me.
Then a dull thud echoes through the room. I muster what little strength I have left, ignoring how fast my heart is beating and how my body is shaking with pain. After several failures, I manage to open my eyes enough to see that the professor has been thrown across the room and is clearly unconscious in a corner. Law has cast a spell on him. No one can stop him from torturing me now.
I look down at the boy towering over me, his face impassive, my heart skipping a beat. I can taste the metallic taste of blood in my mouth and sweat trickling down my face. The trembling from the pain of his torture still hasn't stopped, and I swear I feel a strange tingling sensation deep in my gut.
Law grabs my chin harshly, I bite my tongue to keep from wincing in pain. My gaze hardens when I meet his angry one.
“Tell me who killed Lucy!” He screams.
I spit the blood from my mouth in his face in response, he angrily wipes it away with the back of his hand before slapping me. My head tilts to the side from the force of his slap, but again, no sound escapes my lips as I grit my teeth to stifle the whimper of pain I'm dying to let out. My cheek burns, and I'm sure my skin is already red.
I will never let him see how much I am suffering.
I shoot him a venomous glare and wait to see what he'll do. I have to admit I misjudged him. He's not the coward I thought he was.
He repeats his question, but I remain stubbornly silent, my hateful gaze fixed on him. He grits his teeth before letting his wand clatter against the stone floor of the room. His fist connects with my jaw, I close my eyes to push away the dizziness the force of his blow has caused.
I don't have time to breathe before another blow lands on my right cheekbone, followed by a second one on my sternum. My breath catches, the pain radiating through my being and blood flooding my mouth. I manage to spit to the side to keep from choking on my own blood just before another blow lands on me, this time on my left eye.
I bite my tongue to hold back grunts of pain, only letting out a few whimpers each time his fist connects with my flesh. The strange tingling sensation in my gut has now turned into an unpleasant but not painful tugging.
As Law lands yet another blow to my temple, my eyelids flutter shut and I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. Yet before my senses completely leave me, I swear I feel my bones painfully crack and hear an animal howl echo through the small stone room.
A low grunt of pain escapes me as I slowly regain consciousness. I try to open my eyes or move, but my eyelids are heavy and my body is too sore to even try. I focus on my other senses: hearing and touch.
My cheek is pressed against a hard, cold, wet surface that I guess is the stone floor of my prison, the wet substance probably my blood. I can hear a hoarse voice, belonging to a man -O'Connor-yelling at someone?
I can't make out what’s being said, but
I can soon hear footsteps, telling me someone is getting closer. I whimper weakly and in pain when I'm suddenly lifted and pressed against something warm.
No, not something. Someone.
The familiar crushing sensation makes me nauseous, and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. The person places me on the cold ground, I shiver, still whimpering in pain. Small pebbles irritate my skin, and I try to control the panic that's starting to rise from within.
Where the hell am I?
The sound of footsteps retreating echoes, I jump when I hear a dull thud. I force myself to open my eyes and I succeed this time. My vision is blurry, but I can make out the massive silhouette of a dark-haired man walking away and a flash of red light above his head. Like a distress flare. I blink away the blur just as the man teleports away, leaving me here in the cold, injured.
A door creaks behind me and I hear several people approaching, making me tense because I still don't know where I am and I'm defenseless, too weak to get up, let alone fight.
“Fuck, angel!”
Relief washes over me and my muscles automatically relax.
Mattheo.
His familiar scent fills my nose as his strong arms lift me up and pull me against him. I can't help but moan weakly at the pain that radiates through my limbs and bones, and he curses under his breath. He orders the people who followed him to immediately send a letter to the Rigast family's personal healer, I realize we must be at Leroi Manor, which makes sense when I think about it. O'Connor wouldn't have risked having me taken back to the Academy, probably wanting to cover up the fact that they kidnapped and tortured me. They're supposed to be the good guys in this war.
Mattheo moves, his muscles tense as he leads us inside. I almost sigh as the warmth of the fireplace brushes against my skin. I'm so cold and sore. I grit my teeth as he begins to climb the stairs to our room, he murmurs an apology, probably knowing that every small movement is painful.
He slows down and pushes open a door that creaks slightly. I then feel the softness of a mattress, and his fingers brush my hair away from my face.
“What did they do to you, my love?” He whispers, his voice hoarse and full of rage.
