Page 45 of Drown Me Gently

He was tied down, his arms and legs strapped to four corners of a wooden table, each limb stretched and fixed tight with coarse rope. A thick leather collar dug into the skin of his throat, buckled around his neck, and secured to the table below. He wore nothing but the thinnest pair of shorts—barely more than a strip of fabric clinging to his waist. His chest was bare, exposed to the chill of the room. The frigid air bit at every inch of exposed skin, and it wasn’t long before Auren was shivering.

Panic seized him. Gripping around his lungs, locking his joints, making his breath stutter in shallow, useless bursts. His head swam as he blinked away the haze, trying to make sense of the room.

This was no bedroom. No sanctuary.

The walls were stone, slick, and sweating. Shelves lined the perimeter, filled with glass jars—some fogged, some translucent. And inside each one…

Gods.

Floating organs. Coiled intestines. Pale, bloated eyes that stared without blinking. A jar of white teeth sat open on the counter, crusted in brown. Everything bobbed in a thick, yellowish fluid that burned Auren’s eyes and filled the room with fumes. It was chemical, like stomach acid soaked in rot. Instruments gleamed from wall racks. Blades, needles, bone saws. Some were clean. Most were not.

What is this place?

It was the opposite of Ulric’s apothecary—where every vial shimmered, where herbs hung in fragrant bundles, and mirrors caught the glint of light like magic. That place was full of wonder and life.

This place oozed with death.

The door creaked open.

“Oh, you’re awake, darling,” came that soft, velvety voice.

Elias.

Auren’s heart stuttered. He turned his head enough to see Elias step into the firelight, calm and smiling, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hands scrubbed clean. The voice that once made Auren feel safe, seen—now sounded like it belonged to a stranger. Too soft. Too casual. Completely out of place in this room of horrors.

“I was worried I gave you a little too much,” Elias said cheerfully. “You slept like a rock.” He walked to the table and reached for something behind Auren’s head. “I hope you won’t take this personally. I am thrilled you’re here. Really, I am.” He chuckled, rolling something small between his fingers. “You just made it so easy. Walking up to me like that on the beach—saved me the trouble of setting another trap on the deck. It was a good trap, too. I designed it specifically to take you alive without wounding you too much. But alas, you never came. After a week, I thought I’d lost my chance. That you’d slipped away forever.” He leaned in, eyes bright with fascination. “And lo and behold, you walk right into my arms. Walk! Of all the things I imagined you capable of, I must say you still managed to surprise me. This transformation… how did you manage it?”

His hand slid up Auren’s leg—clinical at first, until it passed his thigh and crept too high. Too close.

“I must say, I’ve had many specimens on this table. But you’re the first to tempt me. The first to make me want to… partake.”

Auren recoiled, jerking against the ropes. He tried to kick—tried to scream—but the collar held fast, and no sound escaped his throat.

Elias sighed. “Now, now. Don’t struggle. It makes this so much harder than it needs to be.” He turned away, selecting a scalpel from a tray with a practiced hand. The metal gleamed as he examined its edge, utterly unfazed by Auren’s panic. “I don’t mean to frighten you. I simply need to know. You’re incredible. Your body—your biology—it’s beyond anything I’ve studied. I could spend a lifetime trying to understand it. And I intend to.”

He walked with heavy boots, blade in hand, trailing the tip across Auren’s bare stomach. The cool metal kissed his skin. Elias paused, standing over him, gazing down Auren’s exposed form.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You really are something else. And so quiet, too. That’s a blessing. Saves me the trouble of a gag.” Elias smiled as he crouched down, eye level with Auren’s abdomen. “Poor unfortunate soul. You’re not going to like this part.”

Then he cut.

It was deep. Clean. Measured. The scalpel slid through his skin like fruit flesh. Auren arched off the table, body straining against the restraints as a white-hot blaze erupted across his belly. It felt like being flayed alive. He was being flayed alive. His body convulsed—and yet, no scream came. His mouth opened in a soundless wail, but there was nothing. No release. No voice.

Only the silent pooling of blood down his side.

He trembled, gasping in silence. The pain didn’t stop. It spread, blooming in nerve endings he hadn’t known existed. And through it all, Elias hummed to himself, dabbing away the blood with a pristine cloth as though wiping down a dinner spill.

“I’ll keep you alive, of course,” Elias murmured, his tone still conversational. “I want to see how everything works. How it all connects. We’ll go slow—section by section. That way, I can make the most of our time together.”

His voice softened, but the gleam in his eyes was cruel.

Sadistic.

Auren screamed inside his mind. The blade bit in. He arched in agony as the scalpel cut into the skin below his navel. Tears streamed down his face as fire spread through his belly. He thrashed uselessly against the ropes. His voice—gods, why couldn’t he scream?

How did I let this happen?

How could I have been so stupid?