Page 45 of The Heart of a Villain

After that day, I truly discovered what hell on earth meant.

They subjected me to so much torture I’m sometimes surprised I lived through it all without going totally insane.

Various burns as they forced me to step on hot coals and then pressed them to my skin. Knife wounds because they loved to watch me bleed. Starvation and denial of basic human needs for days.

The dogs unleashed on me in the cage while they bit as much of my flesh as they could, all while I fought them off and did my best to protect myself.

Just the tip of the iceberg of what they subjected me to for months.

Until one day, it changed.

In ways I could never expect.

However, everything in this world has a price.

To get my freedom, I had to sacrifice my soul.

For villains don’t have one.

Otherwise, the pain consuming them would eat them alive and destroy them.

Aileen

“Paint. Paint. Paint!” Lavender hums, entering her room and sighing in adoration as she swipes her gaze over all the pink shit. “My room!” She runs toward a teddy bear toy and grabs it, pressing it hard to her chest and then inhaling its scent. “Vanilla! My favorite.” She motions for me to come closer, and I ponder the request, still being careful with her sudden outbursts.

People with damaged psyches are unpredictable, and I really would hate to hurt her.

However, in this madness that’s my reality, I have no other choice but to risk my life in order to get some answers and finish the endless puzzle floating in my head.

“Is it your favorite toy?” I ask, deciding to keep her engaged in the conversation so her mind won’t wander to the past, focusing on the present. “It’s pretty.”

She extends the toy to me, her toes wiggling, as she says, “Smell.”

I do as she says, holding back a wince at the rotten smell and dirt smearing the white toy that has seen better days. In fact, its two eyes are missing, and one of the paws is torn, hanging on for its life.

“I love it!” She snatches it back, rocking it in her arms before spinning on her heel. “It protects me.” She whispers the last part and drops to the floor, where countless white papers are scattered all over the perimeter with different pictures.

Holding the toy with one hand and pressing it to her side, she grabs a crayon with the other one, and it scratches against the paper as she starts to draw something brown.

Okay.

Using all my knowledge from my internship and what I learned in school, I sit down on the bed, thinking about the best way to talk to her.

“Protects you from who?”

She pauses for a moment, the crayon hovering over the paper, and then she replies, “From the monsters.”

My stomach flips while my heart pangs painfully, hating this conversation already because a monster in this castle is another name for my father.

And if she starts saying bad shit about him, I won’t even be able to defend him due to her fragile state.

“A monster?”

She nods, looks around, and then places her fingertip on one of the pictures before sliding it toward me and tapping on the black creature by the door. “A monster.”

I study the one depicting a small form curled into a corner, hiding her face between her knees, as moonlight streams through the window, with several stars shining in the dark-blue sky.

The room seems empty, only a bed nearby, while the door is wide-open, framing the dark creature that reminds me of a demon grinning evilly as his hands with sharp claws extend toward the curled form, ready to pierce her.

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