Page 104 of Pray for Scars
Lucifer still has the blade in my brother’s gut.
“Let him go, Lilith,” he whispers, staring at Jeremiah.
Jeremiah’s green eyes are on me. His mouth is open, but nothing comes out.
“N-no,” I say, feeling sick. “No.” I turn to Lucifer, see his cold eyes turn to me. “Save him!” I scream at him. “Fucking save him!”
Lucifer smiles. “You’re beautiful when you beg.” And then, in one swift motion, he yanks the blade out, stands to his feet, and hauls me over his shoulder.
No.
No.
I twist in his grip, hear the blade clatter to the cement floor, see the crimson slick against the metal. I reach for Lucifer’s eyes, but I can’t see, the way my body is angled behind his, and he only laughs, loud and cold.
Jeremiah is still slumped against the wall, watching me, his hand on his wound, blood pouring from his abdomen, his shirt slick and wet.
No.
No.
“Let me go!” I scream at Lucifer, hitting his back, twisting and turning, trying to break free. “Save him, Lucifer! Fucking save him!”
“Take a good look around, Lilith. This hell is for you.”
I stop struggling, tense against his shoulder as he pushes through another flap in a curtain, the fire raging behind us.
I see something swaying from the ceiling, which is low here. The room is dark, but the blaze beyond it casts enough light for me to see by. Lucifer keeps walking, and I see more movement, a gentle back and forth.
Rope.
A man in a suit.
Another one.
And another one.
A maze of hanging bodies, purple faces, eyes wide open, feet dangling from the floor.
“Coming back to you yet, baby girl?” Lucifer whispers as we cross the room.
My stomach churns. I clamp a hand over my mouth.
Lucifer squeezes my thigh. “It’s okay to be sick. It means you know.”
I can’t ask what he’s talking about. Just like I can’t look away from these dead bodies. The men I didn’t kill. Wasn’t able to. The ones who lived.
The ones who passed me around in Lazar’s pedophile ring. My foster parents.
“If I was a better man, I wouldn’t let you see,” Lucifer says as we pass through two hanging bodies, the rope cinched tight around their throats. “But I’m not. I’m selfish. And I want you to know what I’d do for you. What I’ve done. And why,” he pauses, adjusting my limp body on his shoulder, “why I’ve got to burn this place to the fucking ground.”
I bite back on the bile rising up my throat.
Oh my God.
We’re almost to the door, the bodies behind us. The flames have swept halfway across the warehouse, and it won’t be long until they get my brother too.
Lucifer ducks as he walks with me through the door, and my fists are still pounding against his back.
