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Chapter 27
CHRISTY
Lying face down on Thirteen’s bed naked bar the chastity belt, I stare off into the distance, listening to the rain as it lashes against the window. Fat droplets roll down the windowpane and somewhere in the distance thunder rumbles as Konrad inspects the cuts on my back now that I’m clean from the shower.
“I need to stitch up this cut Leon made,” Konrad says, brushing my damp hair off my face. “It’s deeper than the others. Those will heal up on their own.”
Thirteen slams something down on the worktop behind us. Since finding out what happened she’s made it perfectly clear with her actions that she’s unhappy with the events of this evening. It surprises me, given she did nothing to prevent Leon from whipping Twelve’s back bloody and raw. So why are a few cuts on my back any different? The truth is, they’re not.
“Leon held back, Thirteen…” Konrad says, his voice trailing off when she snorts with contempt. Leaning over me, he brushes his knuckles across my bare arm. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”
I’m not sure what he wants me to say. Thank you? Not going to happen.
“Just sew me up, please.”
From the moment he unlocked my wrists and ankles, Konrad has been nothing but attentive, affectionate,caring. He carried me up to Thirteen’s room and stayed by my side, giving me sips of water, feeding me small bites of the ham sandwich Nala brought up half an hour ago. He’s shown me nothing but care, a stark contrast to what I’ve experienced since arriving here.
But it’s all a lie.
It isn’t a selfless act. He doesn’t truly care about me, about what they’ve all put me through. This is about himgetting off. I’m as certain of that as I am of Leon’s need to inflict pain through violence. The pair are twisted bastards and Jakub is no better, seeing as he gave me over to them. He broke his promise.
Behind us Thirteen brews a concoction to soothe my cuts and encourage healing. She’s furious with him, with Leon, that much is obvious, but she’s also angry at herself.
She feels responsible for what’s happened to me.
She isn’t.
The Masks are.
Iam.
The need to survive is a funny thing. Since I’ve been here I’ve gone through a gamut of emotions. I’ve oscillated between fear, anger,and lustuntil I’ve felt sick with it. But one thing has remained constant: my need to go home.
Just because they’ve made me come, have given me pleasure in situations I’d never dreamed would be pleasurable, doesn’t mean I want to stay. Just because they’ve all kissed me like I really am theirs, that I belong to them, doesn’t mean I do. Just because my visions have been telling me for years that The Masks are my future, doesn’t mean I want them to be.
I might betheirsbut I’m aware that there is a time limit on that ownership.
That at some point in the near future, they’re going to kill me.
I’ve seen it in their eyes. It’s an inevitability.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t had any more visions. I can’t see into the future if I don’t have one.
“Thank you, Thirteen,” Konrad says after dropping the wet cloth back in the bowl sitting on the side table and taking the tray from her which holds a needle and surgical thread.
She breathes out a huff of air and sits on the bed beside me, holding my hand. Her gaze is filled with apology, regret. I don’t bother to try and reassure her that I’m okay because I’m not. Nothing about what happened today was okay. Nothing.
Konrad and Leon think that because I came, because Ichoseto take some pleasure from the situation, that I’m beginning to accept my place here. They couldn’t be more wrong.
I’m going to destroy them.
Not Grim, not Beast, but me.
Me.
Because something else happened in that cell today that made me realise the powerIhold.
Leon might’ve cut me, he might’ve made me bleed, but he didn’t come out of the experience unscathed. He called meChristy.
