Chapter 2 #3
Before that night, I wouldn’t have thought him capable of hurting me, but he’s taken sick delight in proving me wrong.
Every day since has only gotten worse. It was a slow process, with stretches of good overshadowing the bouts of rage he’d spiral into, until there was nothing left but a void of darkness in place of the warmth he used to evoke.
They say absolute power corrupts absolutely, and I’d have to agree.
Tobias could be the poster child. Gone is the boy who promised me the world, replaced by a man dead set on destroying it.
He has no remorse for the things he’s done, and at this rate, he’s going to be the cruelest leader Veritas has ever had—a feat I never thought possible.
Tobias plates my food, refusing me the right to serve myself.
Control is a kink of his, but so is molding my body to his exact liking.
I only eat what he allows me to, never more, never less.
If he feels I need to lose a few pounds, my portions become so minuscule they’re barely more than a few bites.
It’s not enough to put me through the paces of his twisted mental gymnastics; he needs me physically exhausted as well.
The one and only time I challenged his judgment, I went sixty-three hours without so much as a drop of water. I kept quiet after that.
We eat in silence, but it’s difficult to enjoy the taste of anything when I know the other Tainted are making do with scraps.
It’s cruel, the way we’re forced to harvest the vegetables and tend to the livestock, knowing we’ll reap none of the rewards for the tireless labor that’s expected of us.
Even still, those years spent in communal housing, working from sunup till sundown, were far better than what awaited me here.
The idea that there was ever a time when I was eager for my Claiming to take place is incomprehensible.
Later that evening, Tobias summons me to his office.
The members that make up each House all reside in one dwelling, but our portion of the home is connected by a wood-planked breezeway, giving us a semblance of privacy.
I used to covet our alone time, but dread fills my stomach the second I’m trapped with Tobias, the presence of others no longer serving as a buffer.
He’s sprawled behind his desk lackadaisically, the picture of an unfit king lording over his acolytes without a shred of morality.
“Come.” Tobias stands, leaving me to trail behind him like an obedient puppy.
We exit House Stillwater and make the trek across the compound.
At first, I think he’s taking me to the eastern corner, to the place we once frequented together.
Panic grips me, making me fearful of what he knows.
I’ve been so careful, avoiding it altogether as of late, so my visits wouldn’t bring about any questions.
Over time, I’ve grown to hate the place I used to find solace in.
It’s a constant reminder of how trusting and guileless I used to be.
I think the only reason he hasn’t forbidden me from visiting it is that he wants me to suffer.
It’s not enough that Tobias himself is a walking reminder of my greatest mistake; he’ll take every chance he gets to douse my wounds with salt, dragging out every hurt he’s inflicted for as long as he can.
When he changes course, a barely discernible sigh of relief escapes me.
Regardless of how improbable it is, there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t feared him discovering the burner phone I was given.
Moments later, we enter the Tainted’s living quarters without so much as a knock.
Privacy is a scarce commodity, and having come to that realization the hard way, our sudden appearance catches none of the Tainted off guard.
Tobias leads us through the bunk room, but I keep my eyes averted from any distractions.
It hurts to be in their presence, and I hate that I can’t help them or at least make them aware of the outside forces working tirelessly to end our suffering.
At the back of the building, we’re greeted by a House figurehead.
They serve as representatives, but haven’t yet come of age to partake in a Claiming.
At all times, someone is present, ensuring obedience and submission.
Keeping a watchful eye on the Tainted, they operate in shifts, utilizing a designated space for Houses to maintain separation.
Fraternizing is vehemently forbidden, though Tobias and I certainly didn’t adhere to the rules.
He speaks quietly with the figurehead, and then we’re led to one of the private rooms that’s meant to give the illusion of segregation.
“My wife will see to his care for the time being. Once he has control over his urination and bowel movements, he’ll be placed with the Tainted, as he’s meant to be,” Tobias commands. “Perhaps caring for a child will spark her instincts. Her clock is ticking, after all.”
A small boy is plucked from the cot, then dropped to his feet carelessly.
The figurehead from House Harding sneers in disgust, brushing her hands against her sides.
When his face connects with the fading light from the sun, it takes a strength I didn’t know I possessed to remain impassive.
Hudson Taylor stands before me, his tiny body within arm’s reach.
My knees grow weak when he whimpers, terrified of Tobias’ reaction.
By some miracle, he defers to me, gesturing that I have his permission to approach the child.
I don’t dare whisper reassurances in the presence of my so-called husband, but I can only hope that the faint stroke of my hand brings Hudson a morsel of comfort.
And though my promises aren’t spoken aloud, they’re no less vehement.
If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to free this sweet little boy who’s done absolutely nothing to invite the pain that Veritas has thrust upon him.