by V. F. Mason
He kept on apologizing that I got dragged into this, never fully explaining why Andreas hates him so much, and I didn’t ask either.
All the explanations in the world won’t wipe away what happened to me.
Howard still called me on the phone he gifted me, came and spoke to me softly, never making a move on me, because I would have run in a different direction; just the idea of sex and everything it implied raised panic in me.
In his arms, I’ve found solace just as I hoped, a temporary reprieve from the agony that my life has become.
But despite all the tenderness Howard has shown me ever since that day, I saw something else flashing in his eyes whenever our gazes met, and it always sent shivers down my spine. He never commented on Andreas’s words about the pregnancy; the detachment I felt in his arms was an answer in itself to such a possibility.
However, none of that created the numbness inside me, muting the despicable voice murmuring in my head and replacing it with the internal scream ringing in my ears every single minute.
No.
The positive pregnancy test did.
And the most horrific part of it all?
I have no idea who the father is, because the last time I slept with Howard was the day before Andreas raped me.
The life growing inside me is either from the man I love with all my heart or the man I hate with all my soul.
Which means part of me loves it, and the other hates it so much I want to stab myself with a knife and carve it out of me.
The test lies next to me on the table as a mocking reminder of Andreas’s words, even though there is a possibility it’s not his.
I haven’t told anyone about it. How can I?
My first instinct is of course to call Howard. But remembering his gaze, his orbs filled with resentment, I know it will be the end of us.
He’ll let go of me and in this break my heart if there is anything else left to break. My fairy-tale love will be forever tainted with his reaction to this news.
It might sound weak and pathetic… but Howard is the only man out there for me.
My father will either forbid me from seeing Howard or hunt Andreas down to get me married to him.
And Andreas?
He promised to come for his baby if I’m pregnant, the anticipation and the odd thrill detectible in his voice indicating to me somehow that a child is important to him. Some kind of grand scheme he plans, or he simply needs an heir to the throne, no one probably willingly wants to live with a monster.
I thought about all the choices I have and only one seems reasonable.
I won’t let this baby live. I hate it with a passion, but still part of me loves it.
This tiny love urges me even more to accomplish my goal and end this madness surrounding my life.
Andreas is a monster who should have never been born.
And so is his baby.
18 March
I made a couple of decisions three days ago and acted on them before I changed my mind.
I found the clinic, made an appointment, and paid one of the maids to take me there quietly with our driver, covering it up with a period-pains problem in case my father asked.
Everything went according to plan, and thankfully, since I’m eighteen, I didn’t need anyone’s permission to have an abortion.
Only, when the nurse told me to enter the room and prepare myself for the procedure before the doctor showed up, the door closed behind me with a loud click, and I spun around to see Andreas leaning on it with a predatory smile. “My love, what did I tell you about the pregnancy?” I stilled, stepping back from him when he moved toward me until the backs of my knees bumped into the hospital bed. “I’ll take the baby and leave you to Howard. Didn’t I say that?” His hand wrapped around my neck, and he pushed me against the nearest wall, a whimper of pain sticking in my throat when he squeezed me too hard.
He leaned closer, his disgusting breath filling my ears. “And what did you do instead? Came for an abortion.” He tsked, flicking my earlobe, and tears formed in my eyes while I tried to hit him so his hold on me loosened. “Be grateful for the baby in your womb, Flora, or I’ll rape you again for disobedience.” He let go of me, and I gulped for breath, while fear zapped through me. I wracked my mind for how he could possibly know about my condition, but of course no one gave me the answer to that question.
“It’s not yours,” I replied hoarsely, running my fingers over my neck and doing my best to keep my voice even instead of shrinking to my knees and crying out loud at his presence next to me. “I’ve slept with Howard multiple times.”
Andreas’s laughter rocked off the walls. I scrunched my eyes, wishing for him to disappear instead of facing the abuser alone once again and pulling myself into my never-ending nightmare. “I’m not stupid, love.” He gripped my chin so hard a whimper of pain slipped past my lips as he tilted my head so our stares met. “Clare had a very hard second delivery. Did you know that? His mother insisted on a vasectomy. I bet he forgot to mention that.” I froze, my heart beating so loudly it almost wiped away the sound of his cruel voice that left me no illusions regarding my pregnancy. “It’s my baby. And Howard will never accept it.” Again, hate laced his tone as if Howard and he have a personal vendetta going on; however, I was too deep in my despair to examine it further. “You won’t harm my baby. I have too many plans for it.”
“I hate you,” I whispered and palmed my stomach. “I hate this baby too.” My hand fisted as I hit myself hard, barely noticing the pain while holding my head high. “You might stop me from abortion, but you can’t stop me from doing anything else.”
A smile curved his mouth, and he exhaled heavily. “You’re so naïve; no wonder Howard fooled you.” He let go of me, and I swayed to the side as he took out a manila envelope from his coat. “Check this information and then go home, Flora.” He pointed at my stomach, “Be a good girl and protect my baby well until I take it away.”
“I don’t want this baby!” I screamed, not caring who could hear us, because my entire life was crumbling under my feet.
Andreas shrugged, twisting the knob, and looked at me over his shoulder. “Don’t. All you have to do is deliver it safely, and you’ll be free.” I opened my mouth to protest some more, but he gave me no chance, disappearing as swiftly as he showed up.
But he left me the envelope, and I studied it well.
Before grabbing my clothes and running away from the clinic to the surprised stares of nurses and my maid.
Andreas won this round too, because the information he presented me with gave me no other option besides following his orders. He might kill my sister otherwise.
They say be careful what you wish for, and I finally fully understand this.
Once upon a time, I wished for a great love, just like in the fairy tales and poems.
I forgot though that every legendary love story ends tragically and has the whole world against you.
And this baby inside me?
I’ll never accept it and will gladly give it back to Andreas so he can do with it whatever the fuck he wants.
Loving something of his is impossible.
Briseis
Headache.
That’s the first thought entering my mind as I wince, moving my head to the side and groaning in pain. The razor-sharp hurt travels from my toes to the tips of my hair, sending an ache all over my body.
The exhaustion filling every bone makes me think I’ve run a marathon last and got stomped by all those racing ahead of me.
What did I do with Lenora last night? Walk the entire city in high heels and never bothered to order a cab?
Turning on my side, I rest my cheek on the pillow, craving to inhale the deep scent of lavender, only to yelp when it meets a hard surface, scratching my skin, adding to the prickles of pain in my scalp.
Rubbing my throbbing neck, I swallow, only to groan in distress when it feels as if thousands of sharp knives pierce my skin all at once.
Extend
ing my arm, I search for the bottle of water always present on my nightstand, but instead of polished wood, only emptiness greets me.
Frowning, I sit up and rub my eyes, cracking my neck from side to side despite the hurt, hoping to bring my sore muscles alive with the popping sounds accompanying it.
Along with the rattling of heavy chains.
I lean back, gasping in shock when I see tight steel manacles locked on my wrists.
“What’s going on?” I mutter, looking around and quickly getting onto my knees, finding myself in an unrecognizable room burrowed in darkness except for the light bulb flickering above me.
Shaking my head from the dread filling my system, the fear sinking into every cell and polluting my veins, I close my eyes, ordering myself to wake up from this nightmare.
Wouldn’t be the first time my childhood traumas from being kept in the basement transferred themselves into my subconscious, waiting for a weak moment to strike me, then claim my soul so it can wallow in misery and madness.
“Wake up, Briseis. Wake up. It’s not real,” I chant over and over again, inhaling and exhaling loudly, focusing only on the puff of air slipping past my lips before snapping my eyes open with the hope of the walls of my lavender room coming into view. Yet darkness once again says “hi” to me.
Laughter echoes through the space, sinister and mocking in its nature, rubbing over my skin like the cotton of ropes, gliding up and up until they wrap around my neck so tight, leaving only one emotion in their wake.
Fear.
Panic envelops my senses, goose bumps break on my skin, and I wrack my mind for an explanation until the events of what happened before I blacked out come to mind.
The murderers killing my family.
How they chased me.
One of them choking me to death.
Did they catch me and bring me here, to some kind of dungeon?
“Dad, please let me go.”
My body of its own accord starts to tremble violently, my teeth chattering from the harsh coldness of the concrete and freezing air around me while thousands of memories tear me apart, one more horrific than the other, bringing me back to being hopeless and alone with no way of escape.
Darkness has been my greatest enemy and sorrow ever since I can remember. I don’t even sleep without my lamp on, too afraid to trust it after all the years of suffering.
Palming my throat, I breathe heavily, reining in the horror fogging my brain, and will myself to focus on survival, because weakness right now cannot be an option.
But then another image pops in my head, those of a blue-eyed, handsome devil coming to the rescue.
Santiago.
“No one hurts what belongs to me.”
He saved me. He was there. Wasn’t he?
Or was it part of my dream after the murderers got what they wanted, a trick my imagination played on me to drop my guard and answer the luring call of the oblivion promising me a safe harbor?
I open my mouth to scream my lungs out for help when bright lights turn on one after another with loud snapping sounds, blinding me with their intensity, and I cover my eyes with my arm, adjusting my blurry vision to the new environment.
“Dear God,” I whisper, when everything around me comes into clear view, showing me an arena that contains several tables holding collections of knives and other weapons on them.
The place reeks of desperation, doom, and torture, chilling my blood, and I swallow back a whimper of distress, detesting showing them my vulnerability and fear.
Monsters feed on those the most.
The long chains pull me in different directions, as if I’m a sinner ready to be punished by the higher order, and I jump up only to land back on my knees with a cry, the chains not giving me enough room to wiggle or move anywhere but in the circle of their creation.
The tight manacles cut into my skin, probably creating scars and reminders of their torture for years to come.
“Finalmente estás despierta, querida.”
Finally you’re awake, darling.
With dread blanketing my heart, I raise my gaze to the sitting area above the arena to see Santiago leaning on the banister, a victorious smile shaping his mouth while his eyes stay dead, their ice color having the power to send anyone running in fear from him.
Only, it’s a luxury I can’t afford in the current circumstances.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice even and calm, because losing myself to hysterics won’t help make sense of this situation or find a solution to my problem to get the fuck out of here with my life intact.
A normal female reaction would have probably been screaming for help, believing Santiago showed up here to help me and any other delusional crap we like to feed our minds in order to believe in the greater good.
However, I was raised in hell with vicious people who would stop at nothing in order to get what they wanted, kidnapping and killing people being one of them should it threaten their reign.
And somehow along the way, my family has crossed a Cortez, so he came to collect, and as fucking always, I ended up being collateral damage.
All the weapons remind me of my obsession with dark topics, after a particularly interesting lecture from one of my professors back in college, especially the minds of serial killers who drag their victims to secluded places and do with them whatever they please.
No amount of begging or pleading will help me, so I don’t even bother, and part of me hates myself for not seeing this side of him. Maybe then it wouldn’t have hurt this much, and I wouldn’t have to put on a strong front when the prospects of facing a real-life serial killer almost triggers my gag reflex.
I let him….
No. Not the time nor place.
I can focus on my broken heart that was stupid enough to believe he had a genuine interest in me later.
If I live long enough to examine it, that is.
“That’s a good question. Isn’t it?” He addresses someone behind him, and only then do I notice three more men lounging on different seats, each one of them with a drink in hand.
The Four Dark Horsemen.
“I like the lack of hysterics,” Octavius says, rubbing his scar with the glass, an odd expression crossing his face. “Not in the mood to hear a woman cry.”
“Such a pleasant surprise,” Remi agrees, lighting up his cigarette and breathing out the smoke. “An anomaly to all the other victims around here.”
Florian puts his hand on his chest, mockingly crying out, “Please help me. Please don’t kill me.” He chuckles. “So fucking tired of that shit.” He winks at me, saluting me with his glass. “To you, Briseis.”
“Choke on your drink, Florian.”
Collective laughter fills the arena after my sneer, these despicable humans finding my words amusing.
How could one possibly fight such insanity and madness that knows no bounds or compassion?
My hands tremble when fear slams into me hard, sticking the air in my lungs, and I fist my hands, resting my butt on the heels of my feet and keeping my composure while hectically searching for a way out and not finding any.
The arena has no doors leading anywhere from my point of view, the darkness hiding most of what’s going on at its borders, as light doesn’t fall there. Not to mention the four men watching my every move, the amused audience ready for the entertainment of the night to see me fight for my life in this arena before they make a verdict about my fate.
Pulling one of the chains, I trail my gaze after the wave it makes to see it stuck to the floor in the far corner, and it’s the same with the other one, not giving me wiggle room to reach the weapon table and destroy the lock on these shackles.
And then maybe injuring or killing one of them in order to escape.
Oddly enough, guilt doesn’t even cross my mind at such dark thoughts.
“Fool’s job.”
I grit my teeth, annoyance sparking through me at him so easily guessing my intentions.
Santiago
hops over the banister inside the arena, the heavy thud of his landing bouncing off the walls, and walks toward me, swirling his finger in the air. “Welcome to my domain, Briseis.” He opens his arms wide. “Where terror and pain rules.”
“What do you want from me?” I ask, ignoring his statement, holding on to my sanity by a thin thread while fear pushes to the surface. It’s urging me to start freaking out instead of staying in limbo, putting images of my dead family in my head, not letting me shy away from the gory pictures. “You killed my family,” I whisper, my voice trembling this time while my heartbeat speeds up at the devastating truth. “That’s why you were there.”
He might have saved me from Terry, but only because he ordered my kidnapping, and Terry didn’t listen properly. I’m his latest toy, after all, and no one fucks with what Cortez wants.
Santiago tsks, coming closer to me, and snatches a blade on the way, the steel glistening in the light and bringing attention to its sharp tip. Automatically, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to protect myself from whatever horrible thing he plans to do to me.
“Hard to call people who hurt you and treat you like shit family.”
His words bring much needed rage within me, putting a lid on the fear and letting me face him with my chin high. “They didn’t deserve to be slaughtered, you bastard!” I shout, lunging toward him, but I’m pulled back to my place again by the chain.
And freeze when the tip of the blade presses on the underside of my chin, making me hold my gaze with his as he cocks his head to the side. “I always said stupidity will end humankind.” My brows furrow at his unexpected change of subject, and I gasp when the tip travels to my cheek and then slides down to my neck, hovering above the artery. “I’m starting to think I was wrong. Compassion.” The tip goes back to my cheek, tapping on it lightly and spreading even more goose bumps on my skin. “They abused you and never loved you all these years, yet you display so many emotions for them.” He leans closer, rubbing my lips, and I twist my head to the side, hating him, only to whimper when he grips my chin painfully. “Ultimately, your heart will be your downfall, querida. Turns out, even the devil’s spawns have them.” Hatred laces his last words, rage flashing in his eyes, and the tip of his blade nicks a bit of my skin, though not enough to draw blood or do any permanent damage.