Page 1 of Preyless
PROLOGUE
RORY
I had always wonderedwhat it would feel like to die.
Well, in a way.
I neverexactlywondered what it would feel like regarding the action itself, nor had I ever planned a death of any kind—for myself or others. Death, for the most part, was painful in nearly all ways of its delivery, regardless of how some felt about it. And if you just so happened to die in a way that didn’t stem from the agony of pain or sickness…then you were probably lucky enough to only spread that pain on to the souls of others.
Nevertheless, death was painful.
Or it should have been.
Right?
A sick part of me hoped it was for the ones who hurt others freely.
Who damaged them.
Who made them crave things people shouldn’t generally crave.
But over the last three months, I had come to an agonizing yet truthful understanding.
I would never know.
Pain was nothing new to me, but I didn’t like thinking about it until I had to. In utter honesty, nothing good ever came of it.
So, instead, I pictured my own version of Rapunzel.
Locked in a tower, desolate and alone, until a version of Prince Charming came for me.
A Prince Charming who had come to rescue me, after all.
Someone who would grow to love me. Who would show me that I wouldn’t and shouldn’t have to feelhiswrath or disappointment breathing down my neck anymore. That I wouldn’t have to provide for someone who had lost themselves in the hope of our ruin.
A Prince Charming who would simply love me like I craved.
Like I deserved.
But my life was no fairytale, and regardless of how much I wished to escape this life and be reincarnated into the next one—preferably as a peaceful frog on a lily pad with no worries outside of what bug I would eat that day—I was fucked.
So, instead, I thought about death. About how sweetly relieving it must feel to finally give into the lack of bindings. The release of life.
No more shitty job.
No more shitty life.
There would only be peace.
I should’ve avoided that train of thought, though.
Anger only clawed its way up my throat every time my mind drifted in its direction.
Because he was dead, and while I only hoped he was in hell, I was left alive to suffer through the trauma and aftermath of him. Of having to heal from his hands, words, actions, and toxicity after the unimaginable.
If only…
“Alright, do you have any questions for me before you start?” the man in front of me asked, raising his bushy, gray eyebrows expectantly.
