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I couldn’t twitch a finger, shake my head, or even hold my bladder. Though I tried.
Yes," he continued, somehow seeing my effort, "I think I finally figured out the exact right dose. Enough of the poison to keep you alert but unable to move."
He'd been experimenting with it for months, finally discovering a way to force me to do his bidding. To wait patiently at the door, instead of trying to escape. To wait for him on the bed, so he could fuck me, instead of locking myself in the bathroom.
He could force me to do anything now.
My lips parted, drool leaking down my chin. I wanted to scream!
"Disgusting." He frowned, wiping it with the napkin from the table.
Once again, I was struck with helplessness, the urge to run making me feel twitchy.
In honor of the very creature you despise so much,” he continued, once I was clean.
His words made my body go cold. He was tattooing a deathstalker scorpion on me, for fuck’s sake. The source of the poison itself.
Not that it would matter what he tattooed on me. It was his way of claiming me. Of showing me that I belonged to him. That he could do anything he wanted to me, and I had no choice in the matter.
Grief billowed in my chest, forcing another whimper from my throat and red flush his face. I knew what he would do a moment before the palm of his hand whipped across my cheek, making my head fly back.
“You dare disrespect me! You should feel honored to have the mark of the scorpion!" His eyes narrowed again, the soullessness in them making my whole body ice over with fear.
How is it that I couldn’t even move, and yet, I could still tremble inside? Still feel the pain across my cheek and collar?
Could still feel the emptiness of his gaze somehow fill me, making me just as empty and bitter as he was?
"I shouldn’t give you this," he nodded towards the tattoo newly forming on my collar. "You don't deserve it." His lips twisted, anger blotching his brown skin as he considered it. Scowling in anger, his hand moved up again. Another strike. Pain screaming and spreading across my face. My neck ached with the snap of movement. Then fingernails digging into my skin.
I tried to pull away, to push off from the chair holding me. But, I couldn’t move.
After several minutes of pain, he stopped, sucking in deep breaths, slowly gaining control over himself as his eyes landed on my collar. Then, like flicking a switch, his mood changed. A grin stretched across his ugly, scarred face, "It's just perfect. Just a few finishing touches, then everything will be right again. You’ll see.”
He caressed my cheek, the touch loving, but worse than when he slapped me. "I know you're going to just love it, my little pajarita." His eyelashes fluttered close and his chest expanded as he pulled in a deep breath, his soft words, "You will learn, eventually." When his eyes opened, there was the frigid calmness I'd come to recognize back in his gaze.
He shook his head, sitting back down. "No, once you see it complete, you'll love it. I know it. It might take some time," his eyes roamed his handiwork on my body appreciatively, but it's going to be beautiful."
The sound of the tattoo gun buzzing snapped me back to the moment, releasing the hold the past had on me.
I closed my eyes, the tears burning at the back of them, forcing them down. If I cried, it would only make things worse. Besides, he didn't deserve to see my pain. It would only make him happier.
I was doing this for Honey.
FIFTEEN
"You need to follow me. Something's wrong." Gina turned from the doorway of Rose's room, walking briskly down the hallway.
"I'll be right back," I announced to the room, then followed Gina to a room filled with shelves of bandages, gloves, gauze, and other medical supplies.
"You need to see this," she thrust her phone at me.
Pushing play, I watched a shaky video of the ground, black heels walking through a crowd of other feet. Impatient, I forwarded the video until it panned upwards, showing the back of several heads, until finally, it landed on one of the King's clubs.
My stomach sunk in horror as orange and black ate through the walls, with black plumes pouring from the top. It was on fire. Police were setting up a perimeter, yelling at the gathered crowd to 'Get Back!'
Shit, shit.
Dread filled my chest as the video continued. The camerawoman moved through the crowd, making me almost nauseous at the shaky quality as she jerked from the back of heads, to the burning building, to the ground.
