AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Little porker,” I mumble, grabbing the bag to inspect the tiny beak-sized hole he managed to poke in the side. Guess you’re not so helpless after all.
It lets out a weird chirrup noise and puffs up, its mouth opening and closing as if it’s trying to take in air. I watch its movements in alarm, wondering if something’s the matter with it. Oh fuck, did I poison her bird?
But then it settles down, and my heart slows to a normal pace. I shoot a glare at it, hoisting the bag high over my head. “You know what? I don’t think you deserve these.”
It does the stupid little puffing thing again, and I toss the bag onto the bed. “Okay, fine!” Have them all. Just don’t fucking die, okay?
With a huff, I storm from the apartment. “Why did she have to have a pigeon? She could have had anything as a pet, but a goddamn pigeon?” Lord only knows what she’ll bring home one day. What she’ll let the kids bring home.
The last thought has me stopping in my tracks. I haven’t ever considered having children. Not with the work I do and certainly not with my… proclivities. But Lillith is so good, so gentle and kind. Maybe she can cancel out some of my wretchedness. Maybe…
I shake it away. She hates me right now, so there’s no point in even thinking about it. Angrily, I throw my leg over my bike and rev the engine, shooting out of the alleyway and down the street. My mind is a mess, and the city's silence does nothing to calm me down. I just hope once I’m back at the cabin with her, I’ll be able to rest.
The secret door scrapes against its hinges as I step inside the cabin, breathing in the musk of the cedar planks lining the walls and floor. Once the door is shut, I stand in the center of the room, listening for any indication that my flower is awake. There’s a faint rustle of bedsheets, then an incoherent jumble of words. Lillith likes to talk in her sleep, though it rarely makes any sense.
Except when she has her nightmares. I can always tell when she’s having one of those.
Guilt grips my chest as I stalk to the bedroom door. My fingers wrap around the handle, but something stops me from entering. The look on her face at the lake, the disgust marring her perfect features. I can’t see it again, not tonight. Not when I’m this exhausted, when my inhibitions are already paper thin.
I sigh, dropping my fist from the handle and stepping over to the couch at the other end of the room. I wish she would remember. Maybe then she would stop hating me, would finally let me in when she realizes what I’m willing to do for her. What I’ve always been willing to do.
I lie down on the scratchy cushions, forcing my eyes shut as my mind wanders to that one night, and the consequences I faced because of it. I’ve never been sorry, and I never will be. I’ll wear the scars with pride, and I’ll be more than I was before. It’s worth it for her.
The seductive cloud of sleep falls over me, and before I know it, I’m falling… falling… falling…
Bile rises in my throat. Sometimes the worst part about being conscious isn’t even the pain. It’s the smell of the place. Like something’s rotting. I look down at the flayed skin on my palm and laugh. The motion causes the muscle in my cheek to split back open, and my mouth fills with the taste of copper. I almost forgot…
I’m the thing that’s rotting.
Light trickles beneath the crack of the door, followed by the shuffle of work boots across the rotting floorboards. It’s back. The door creaks open, revealing a pair of cruel golden eyes.
“Miss me?” It asks.
I straighten in the wooden chair, numb to the gentle tug of the nails holding my wrists in place. I don’t even have the strength to fight against It anymore. It’s taken so much from me, but the one thing It’ll never have is my pride.
Raising my chin high, I give It a daring look. “Fuck you.”
“You little brat,” It seethes, stepping fully into the room and grabbing a crowbar from the blood-drenched table. “Still haven’t had enough, huh?”
Rearing back, It slams the rod onto my forearm. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but not nearly enough to make me cry out. That pisses It off even more, which is what I was hoping for. The only thing keeping me alive at this point is my desire to kill the fuck. Since I can’t physically fight back, my only option is mental warfare.
“You’re not leaving until you learn your fucking lesson.” It throws the crowbar to the ground and shuffles things around on his torture table. “Fuck me,” It hisses, turning to give me a glare like it’s my fault it came unprepared. “I’ll be right back. Stay where you are.” Giving me a sick smile of satisfaction, It stalks out of the room, slamming the heavy steel door behind.
As soon as It’s gone, I let out a garbled cry of pain. The area It struck is swollen to the size of a small melon, and I don’t need to see it to know the bone is shattered.
“What the hell did you do to piss him off so much?”
I jerk my head toward the emaciated heap in the corner. The candle flickering in the corner casts shadows to the hollows of his cheeks, adding to the ghostly appearance of my cellmate. Unlike me, he’s chained to the wall by his wrists, though they dangle loosely in the cuffs from the sheer amount of weight he’s lost.
“Disobeyed,” I growl, shifting in the chair as eyes the color of angry storm clouds stare at me. “And I’m not fucking sorry about it.”
“Huh. And here I was thinking you were someone important.”
“Yeah? Fuck you.” I grumble, turning to watch a fly that just landed on the chair's arm. “I’m getting really tired of the sound of your voice.”
“Likewise, friend.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I roll my eyes. “We’re not fucking friends.”
