Page 114 of Iris' Lying Eyes

He nudges me with his toes. Although the bitter taste of bile races up my throat, I kiss his fucking shoes. This is me, Iris O’Malley, fucking slave, fucking whore, fucking nothing.

“You thought you could stay. But it’s okay. You’re back now, my pet. You’re back,” he croons, stroking my hair.

Goosebumps fly across my skin, and I shiver, swallowing convulsively to bite back the saliva filling my mouth. But it’s no use, and I bow my head, retching painfully.

He sighs and I close my eyes, blocking out his disappointed blue fucking gaze. This is not going to go over well, dammit.

“Sometimes…” he grumbles, stepping back, and I suppress a flinch when he wipes his shoe on my back. Fucker.

“You’ll accept your punishment. And then I think it’s time we moved on.”

Moved on? What the fuck does that mean?

When I don’t respond, he grabs my hair and pulls me around. “Come.”

My knees sting under the rocky terrain as I’m forced to crawl through the brush, and I grit my teeth. Could I have done anything differently? Or is this where we’ve been heading all along?

I know exactly where we’re going. The pit. I fucking hate it. I’d rather be whipped than left in the hole where so many others have met their end. As far as psychological torture goes, John sure knows what he’s doing.

When we stop at the edge, I peer into the dirt. Thankfully, it’s clear this time. The last time—no, I can’t go there. The rotting, fetid stench. The sightless eyes.

Shuddering, I bite my tongue when he strokes my hair. “It’s for your own good. Hm? Bad girls get punished.”

I don’t have time to respond before he’s shoved me by my head. I tumble into the hole and land with a thud, eating dirt at the bottom.

He may have this power over me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response and instead curl into a ball, closing my eyes.

John makes a weird sound in his throat before saying, “Don’t forget, I’m the master of your universe. If you ever think of staying away again, this will be you.”

I flinch when something lands beside me and move away, turning my head to the wall. Of course, it’s not just time in the hole. I should have known better.

I’ve committed the ultimate sin. I dreamt of a new life free of him. He’ll never be able to forget it, knowing I was free and chose to fucking stay.

I don’t know how much time passes, but the sun is far up in the sky when I can finally take it no more, and I turn my head. The tiny bones lie at an awkward angle. Nothing remains but tufts of dark hair and the moldering remnants of fabric once covered in bright yellow ducks and green turtles.

Doesn’t matter. I know exactly what I’m looking at. The air in my lungs seizes, and I open my mouth to scream, but nothing emerges.

I failed. I failed him.

My head spins, and I close my eyes as something cracks in my chest before falling away into nothing. It’s always been my curse.

I ruin things. Me.

And I fucking hate myself for it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

John leaves me in the hole for a day. I only know because I see the sun rise into the sky and descend before he appears.

During that time, I stare into nothing. My head is fuzzy, my mouth dry. But more than anything, whatever was pushing in my veins, pushing me to keep going, it’s gone.

So, when John stands over the pit and looks down at me with his pale eyes, I stare back blankly. I don’t care what he does. I don’t care what’s next. Live. Die. Exist in this hole for an eternity. It’s meaningless.

“Come, you need your medicine, hm?”

When I don’t move, he tuts, leaning over the hole and tossing a rope inside. “Let’s go.”

I hear him, but it’s thick and distorted, like he’s speaking through a toy. When I merely blink, his mouth tightens. “Grab the rope, Iris.”

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