Page 61 of Cain
“Please, Atticus,” I cried.
The door opened, causing us both to look at it.
“Mr. Ford, your father wants to see you,” Grayson, our butler, said, folding his hands in front of him.
“Don’t you see that I am fucking busy, you idiot?” Atticus spat, widening his brown eyes to him.
Grayson knew. He knew how to treat that spoilt brat that made my life a living hell.
“He said it was urgent,” Grayson replied, his tone jaded, almost bored.
Atticus groaned and lowered the belt sharply. He walked away without sparing me a single look. That was good.
“Your time here is limited, fossil,” he hissed closer to Grayson’s ear. “I will make sure of that.” Grayson didn’t move. He didn’t flinch; he didn’t blink. He wasn’t afraid.
Atticus walked away and slammed the door behind him. Instantly, Grayson’s eyes filled with tears as he ran to me.
“Hey,” he breathed, trying to hold me. My body reacted instinctively, curling back, pulling deeper into myself, trembling in fear. “Don’t be afraid of me.”
“Will you let me go?” My voice could barely sound.
He nodded, his brows furrowed in worry. “Your mother sent me,” he whispered.
My cries grew sharper at the mention of her. She was the only one who understood—the only one who loved me.
I instantly trusted him the way I trusted my mother and jumped into his arms, burying myself in them.
“Why are you soaked?” he asked.
My lips trembled, and my eyes burned from the tears that emerged again, flooding my youthful red cheeks. “H-He tried to drown me.”
I heard his heart jump. Gently, he stroked my head, trying to soothe me. He did it. I started feeling calmer in his arms. More relaxed than I ever felt in my father’s.
I remember every single day of my childhood. Every torturous second spent besidethem, trapped in theirsuffocating presence. Enduring. Waiting. Hoping they’d grow tired of me, bored of breaking me, that they’d finally stop. But they never did. The cage would open, but freedom was a lie. I’d retreat to my room, curl into myself, and cry, because that was all I could do. Cry and wait for it to start again.
I was only a kid. Just a fucking innocent kid covered in wounds. Βleeding, breaking, barely breathing. Wounds that never truly healed only morphed into scars, carved into me like a mark I couldn’t erase. Scars that corroded my soul from the inside out. That twisted and poisoned my mind until I could no longer tell where the pain ended and I began.
Suddenly, a sharp pain sears through my palms. I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been gripping the cube until the pain jolts me back to reality. My hands tremble as I remember the night everything begins. The night the darkness first touched my soul and changed my world forever. It isn’t just a memory anymore; it’s a scar in my mind, gnawing its way back to the surface.
Scars. Some scars are impossible to ignore. They are there, reminding you of who you once were. They claw at your consciousness, refusing to be forgotten.
However, some scars are a pleasure to carry. They remind you of the one person you desperately want by your side forever—a person who brings light to your darkness just by being there, close enough to touch.
I trace my fingers over the wound my knife left on my arm. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should.
K…
Katerina.
My Katerina.
Mine.
All mine.
The memory of her tear-filled eyes as I forced her hands to carve her name consumes my thoughts. The scent of her is still lingering in my mind. I can almost taste it.
I will take her.
