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These monsters are draining her blood and coating me with it.
Sick sadistic bastards.
My father’s voice commands the room once more, “With her blood, my daughter, my heir is reborn!”
I fucking hate him. I want to scream but can’t.
The tiny drops that were once on the ground have turned into a large, crimson puddle surrounding me. I still don’t move. Instead, I just stay here taking it. I need this to be over. If I fight, they’ll take satisfaction in making me endure this longer.
Fingers begin touching my bare legs, arms and face. Blood drips off my lashes as I try to look around. I am completely surrounded by black cloaks now. My body is numb. My brain is protecting me now. I don’t feel her anymore; despite being covered in her, my mom’s presence was something extraordinary and now it is gone.
Faintly I begin hearing chants, none of this seems real. “Principessa Oscura, Principessa Oscura, Principessa Oscura…”
I’m not sure what it means. But I still feel his presence. Where is he? Why isn’t he helping me?
“Take her back to her cell.” His deep, commanding voice interrupts my thoughts.
Next thing I know, my body is being dragged, and my heels are leaving a trail of blood behind me in the dirt.
“This bitch is slippery.” One complains. It takes two of them this time, each holding one of my arms.
It doesn’t take long for them to throw me back into my prison cell. The clicking of the lock shakes me out of the space I was in.
Looking down at my body, I see the familiar bat wings and an upside-down cross decorating my shirt. It was traced through the blood on my clothing.
Anything else that was traced on my skin has since been covered again. It’s so thick and is starting to feel heavier on me as it drips off me. My hands reach up to my hair, it’s soaked as well. I grip it in my hands and begin wringing out my disheveled ponytail.
My lip quivers and my chest heaves. I’m going to be sick.
They painted me with my mother’s blood and left it on me to dry. The reminder is forever embedded in and on me.
I just want it off. Washing it off will help erase the memory of this horror. Using my short fingernails, I begin scraping my skin. Anything to get her blood off me. As it builds up with each drag, I wipe the excess off on the rocky walls surrounding me. I do this several times, but as it gets thinner, it begins to dry on my skin making it harder to remove. I desperately want to remove my blood-soaked, branded clothing, but I refuse to allow these fuckers to see me in my most vulnerable state, naked and imprisoned by them.
Curling into myself, my stomach turns as I move my body against the cool rock wall. Leaning on it, I let out one last scream of frustration. I scream until all the air is out of my lungs and my throat tingles.
Trying to keep it in doesn’t work. Vomit follows, and I get sick next to where I am sitting, nothing more than bile comes out, as I haven’t had anything to eat or drink in who knows how long.
Once it’s all out, I let the tears dry on my skin. No use wiping them off.
My body continues to shake, it’s exhausted, so I bury my face in my knees.
Closing my eyes, a vivid image flashes before me.
My father is the devil.
Chapter 6
Elijah
Rain was so sad, sitting there in front of us being doused in her mother's blood. She didn’t hide her pain, she didn’t fake her emotions.
If I were to guess what a broken heart looked like, she in that moment, is what I would imagine.
At one point, I felt like she had completely left us, her body was still there but her mind was gone. It was interesting to watch. How easily it was for her to disconnect from herself. Something about her has drawn me to her. Rain is one of the most interesting people I have ever laid eyes on. A curious creature.
Shy, but charismatic if she knows the person, like the regular at her work. Pale with long black hair and doesn’t act like the typical chicks I am used to. She doesn’t try to impress and is comfortable in her skin. Or is she? I definitely caught every single glance she threw my way while I watched her work. Rain was curious, intrigued, but not scared.
Perhaps she craves more out of her life.
