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His eyes glimmer when a speck of light hits those spheres that ooze with authority. His hand lifts up as he begins to spin the silver rope in preparation. With an eerie smile, he stares into my frightened eyes.
"It's time to play a little game. Are you ready, broken wolf?"
Nothing can prepare me for the howling screams that leave my throat, the sounds I wish will be heard by anyone who can bring me to salvation.
As always, no one comes to my rescue.
My whimpers reached my ears,making me fear the worst as I struggled for breath. My body was cloaked with sweat, shivering uncontrollably, and I was expecting the next set of whipping force to beat my skin until it was raw and bloody.
I wanted to beg for mercy, yet the words got stuck in my throat because I couldn't succumb to such a level. I was stronger. I could prevail against such torture. But it ate at me while I fought for breath.
Something touched me, and I growled before I tackled the being once and for all. I was tired of being afraid. Exhausted of them torturing me. I didn't deserve to be shackled up in the dark cage with grim, sticky walls that were cloaked with my lingering sweat, blood, and bile.
I deserve freedom. If I won't beg for it, I'll take it for myself!
The being held me, but I fought hard until we were falling back onto the soft surface that I hadn't figured out what it was yet. My hand darted to its secure place, and there in my grasp was my knife that would aid me in skinning this bastard alive.
He'd then experience the pain I experienced. Get a taste of the torture they'd put me through for months. I'd start with him and move onto the others in this dungeon of torture. Then they'd feel my wrath.
All of them would feel my wrath.
My blade was against the man's throat, but when my eyes looked down at him in raging anger, I paused because those black orbs reflected calm. I stared into them longer, taking in the familiarity of that silver ring that wrapped around his irises.
My eyes scanned his messy locks and the tattoos along his built flesh. I noticed the hint of scars beneath the beautifully designed ink work against his skin, which forced me to lower the blade from his neck and sit back on my knees that were nestled on top of this beast.
My eyes took in the scars I could recall from memory. My finger began to trail each of them as I remembered the incidents that led to that round of torture and pain.
It took that moment of clarity for me to realize I was in my bedroom, my eyes scanning the dimly lit room before the night view of the city horizon.
With a frown, I returned my attention to the man who hadn't said a word but observed me with that tranquil expression that didn't make me feel as guilty as I should.
"Sorry." It was the first thing I said as I bent the blade back into its safe spot and slipped it beneath my pillow. I tried to distract myself by running my hand through my hair, but I noticed how my arm shook, violently enough it caught even Onyx's attention.
I bit my lip, unable to fight this feeling of bitter weakness, but Onyx sat up before putting his hands on my waist.
"It's alright." His reply was tender as his eyes watched me lower my arm. I’d given up on the notion of running my hand through my hair. "Do you want anything?"
I knew what he was referring to, and I hated that I had to use either option, but as my body shook, I could only guess how bad of a reaction I might have if I was sloppy in my decision-making.
"A shot would be good," I reasoned.
He nodded, no judgment at all in his eyes or expression as he reached out and brushed my cheek tenderly.
"Do you want to shower?"
"Ya," I admitted, hating the sticky feeling of sweat all over my body. This dream was intense enough to render the simple top I was wearing into Drenchville, and after I took the shot, I’d be down for the count for a few hours.
He lifted me up then, carrying me right to the bathroom, and after placing a few things in places that I liked, he got out and let me do my business. After peeing, I took a quick shower, the temperature being strictly cold at first.
It was a habit I'd yet to break when I had intense flashbacks like what I’d just seen in my dreams. I kept thinking that the scalding hot water would burn all my wounds and leave me in stinging agony. Only when I allowed the cold water to drench me into awareness did I realize there was no need for all of that anymore.
Habits die hard.
When I finished showering, I worked on drying my hair, but the longer I attempted to hold the dryer, the harder my arms shook. I tried to hold out, but my grip loosened unexpectedly. However, the dryer didn't hit the ground.
I realized Onyx was behind me, and he lifted the hairdryer and mumbled, "I keep saying you should get the one with a grip handle, but no. None of them are pink."
He proceeded to help me dry the rest, but his cover-up made my eyes water in appreciation as he worked on my hair. How could a man who fought hard not to share emotion express his love in such a divine way that it made me wish we were born in another timeline?
