24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Victoria
S itting in the corner of my cell curled up for what feels like hours, my mind keeps replaying the horrific events I had witnessed over and over. The sound of Amber's screams, the sight of her blood pooling on the floor, the cold gleam in Jasper's eyes as he tortures and kills her - it all haunts me, refusing to let me find any peace.
I know I need to pull myself together before someone comes to check on me again. I can’t let them see how deeply shaken I am. But no matter what I do, every time I try to compose myself, fresh waves of horror and revulsion wash over me.
How are they able to do something so monstrous and act like it’s normal? How do they expect me to ever accept that as a ‘ way of life’ ? The idea of it makes bile rise in my throat.
“Everything’s fine,” I mutter to myself, making myself uncurl from the position I’ve been in for hours. I have a feeling whoever’s going to be delivering me food is going to want to have a talk or at least gauge how I’m doing. The last thing I want to do is talk. I’m drained on every level.
Stretching out my stiff limbs, I wince at the ache in my muscles from being curled up for so long. My mind feels numb, overwhelmed by everything that’s happening and already happened. Part of me wants to just shut down, to retreat into myself and pretend none of this is real. But I know that isn't an option. I’ve got to stay alert and focused if I want to survive. I can't afford to appear weak or vulnerable, even though I'm falling apart inside. The image of Amber's mutilated body keeps flashing through my mind, making my stomach churn.
The sound of footsteps approaching my cell makes me tense. I take a deep breath, and steel myself for whatever’s coming next. Straightening my spine, both physically and mentally, I force my face into what I'm hoping is a neutral expression. Just in time for the door to open. Owen appears carrying a tray of food. His blue eyes are quick to scan and assess me.
"How are you feeling Sweetheart?" Unbelievable how he’s able to make his voice deceptively gentle as he walks closer to me. I shrug, not trusting myself to speak. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how shaken I truly am.
Owen sighs, running a hand through his blond hair before crouching to my level, and setting the tray down to the side. "I know this has been difficult for you," he said softly. "But you've done remarkably well so far, sweetheart. Better than we expected, honestly."
I let out a harsh laugh, unable to hold back my bitterness. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? That I’ve managed not to completely fall apart while watching you torture someone then kill them right in front of me?"
I take a shuttering breath, eyes narrowing, “This is the second person killed in front of me….” I trail off my voice having taken a soft tone as their faces came to my mind. I don’t think I would ever forget them.
Owen's eyes hardened slightly. "It wasn't just about watching, Victoria. It’s about seeing how you would react under extreme stress. And you showed impressive composure and strength." He was still crouching in front of me, making me feel even smaller as his form is much bigger than my own.
“Also, death is something you will get used to in time…” The way he said that to me makes me want to hit him. I didn’t want to get used to death and blood.
Shaking my head, disgust churning in my stomach. "I don't want your praise for that. What you did was monstrous…and I don’t want to be anything like you to talk so casually about other human beings like that.”
Owen's eyes flash dangerously at my words. "Be careful, sweetheart. Watch your words." He reached out and grasped my chin firmly, forcing me to meet his gaze. "We've been patient with you so far, but don't mistake that patience for weakness."
I try jerking away from his touch, but his grip like iron. "Let go of me," I hiss, glaring at him defiantly.
Owen's lips curve into a cold smile. "Such fire," he murmurers. "It's one of the things we like about you. But you need to learn when to rein it in." His thumb brushes across my lower lip, making me shudder. "We can be very generous to those who please us. But we can also be incredibly cruel to those who defy us. You've seen that firsthand now."
I bit my lip, forcing myself to take a deep breath. As much as I want to lash out, I know it’d only be making things worse. I’ve got to stay alert, stay rational and most of all, stay calm.
"I'm sorry," I say, my voice is barely above a whisper; anger is still swimming in me and the words leaving a bad taste in my mouth. "I just... I don't understand. How do you expect me to accept all of this? To be okay with murder and torture?"
Owen sighs, his expression softening slightly. "We don't expect you to accept it all at once. It takes time to adjust to our way of life. But you've shown so much potential already. With time and guidance, you’ll truly thrive here."
Shaking my head, feeling tears filling my eyes but I manage to push them back. No crying in front of these men. I don't want to give them that kind of power over me.
"But... I don't want to thrive here." I whisper, my voice cracking slightly despite all my efforts to stay sounding composed. “I want to go home; I may sound like a broken record…but that’s all I want. To go home and forget about all of this."
Owen's grip on my chin loosens slightly, his thumb brushing my cheek in what I suppose is meant to be a comforting gesture. All it does is make my skin crawl. "This is your home now, Victoria," he says softly. "The sooner you accept that; the easier things will be for you in the long run."
Closing my eyes and taking a shaky breath, I fight back the wave of despair that threatens to overwhelm me. When I open them once again, Owen’s watching me intently. His blue eyes are searching my face, "And if I can't accept it? What then? Will I end up like Amber?"
A flash of something - anger? Disappointment? Crosses Owen's face before he’s able to school his expression and smooth it out. "We have no desire to harm you, sweetheart…but you have to behave and live by the rules of our family if you become a part of it.”
There’s a pause as he leans forward, his voice soft as he says, "You're stronger than you realize, Victoria.” I jolt at the use of my name. I got used to being called nicknames and not my real name. “You've already survived so much. Most people would have broken by now."
"Maybe I am broken," I whisper, feeling myself pull back and go inside my head. I’m not sure if this family will be the death of me…. deep down I think they'll be the cause of the death of my humanity or my actual death. "Maybe I'm just too numb to feel it yet."
"That fire in you, that spark of defiance - it's part of what drew us to you in the first place. We don't want to extinguish it completely. Just... temper it. Channel it in more productive ways." Owen's eyes darken as he continues to study me, “But you are not broken.”
Looking away, unable to hold his intense gaze any longer and with my voice nothing more than a whisper, "I don't want to be what you all want me to be. I don't want to become someone who can watch torture and murder without flinching."
Owen sighs, his hand moving to cup my cheek. I fought the urge to pull away. "It's not about becoming numb to it, Victoria. It's about understanding the necessity of it. The strength it takes to do what needs to be done."
Feeling the bile once again threating to rise, I shake my head. Focusing on the disgust and anger warring inside me instead. Pushing it away as I try to keep the venom out of my voice, "There's nothing necessary about what you did to Amber. That was you all being cruel for no reason. ."
Owen's eyes harden, “You may think that, but you’ll see there’s a reason for everything we do. I can’t make you change your way of thinking with one conversation. It’s something that happens over time.”
I really want to roll my eyes, and from the look on his face, he must know it, because he sighs, letting his hand drop from my face. Looking him in the eyes, I have so much more I want to say to him, but I can see I’ve already pushed too much today. I give him one more look before I stand up, being careful that our bodies don’t touch, I step over the tray of food to put space between us.
Standing with my back against the wall, arms crossed defensively over my chest as I stare at Owen. He stood as well, watching me with those piercing blue eyes. His eyes tracking my every movement. I see the tension in his body, like a predator ready to pounce at any moment.
"You should eat," he said after a moment, gesturing to the tray of food I’d stepped over. "Keep your strength up."
I glance down at the food; my stomach churning at the thought of eating anything and then back up to Owen. "I'm not hungry," I mutter, not wanting to sound ungrateful for the food given…but I really don’t think I can stomach food at this time.
Owen's eyes narrowed slightly, a frown settling on his face. "That isn't a suggestion, Victoria . You need to eat, and you will eat."
My jaw clenches, anger flaring inside me at his commanding tone. But I know better than to argue outright. Instead, I force myself to take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice level, "And if I refuse?"
A cold smile spreads across Owen's lips. "Then I'll have to resort to more... unpleasant methods of keeping you nourished. Trust me when I say you don't want that." I suppress a shudder at the implied threat. As much as I want to defy him, I have a feeling the alternative wouldn’t be pleasant.
Reluctantly, I pick up the tray and sit down on the floor with my legs crossed before setting the metal tray that reminds me of the industrial ones they use in prison, in my lap. The food does look good. Cooked carrots and peas, a bread roll, mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and turkey with gravy. The smell is good, but my stomach turns at the thought of eating. Grabbing the fork, I take a small bite of the potatoes, trying to stop the nausea that has my stomach in knots.
Owen nods approvingly, "good girl," he murmurs, making me tense at the praise. "I'll leave you to it then. Someone will be by later to check on you…. which most likely will be Elijah this time."
As he turns to leave, I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to him. "Wait," I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. Owen pauses, turning back to look at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, Victoria?" he asks, his tone deceptively gentle.
I swallow hard, debating whether I should even ask the question burning in my mind. But I need to know. "What... what happens next? There are more tests? How many more?” The questions tumble out of my lips before I can stop them.
Owen's lips curve into a cold smile. "Worried, sweetheart? You should be. The trials only get more difficult from here."
I suppress a shudder at his words. "That's not an answer," forcing my voice to remain steady.
Owen chuckles, the sound sending chills down my spine. "No, I suppose it's not. But you'll find out soon enough. Just know that we'll be pushing you to your limits - physically, mentally, and emotionally."
Owen pauses, a frown tugging on his lips as he looks me over, sighing as if he saw the desperation on my face, "There are always more tests, Victoria. Life itself is a test." His lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "But don't worry your pretty little head about that right now. Just focus on regaining your strength."
“Can you tell me anything…like even how many more tests I have to endure?” I ask, not liking his answers…but wanting to know how much more I’ll have to go through…. or how many more people I might have to see being killed.
Owen's lips curved into a smile that sent chills down my spine. “I'm afraid I can't divulge that either…. Where would be the fun if I gave you hints?"
Frustration’s bubbling up inside me. "It's not about fun. I just... I need to be prepared. I don't want to end up like Amber."
Owen's expression softens slightly, though his eyes remained cold. "You won't.” With that, he leaves, the heavy metal door clanging shut behind him. I sit and stare at the closed door for a long moment, my mind racing as I try to dissect the conversation, we just had…. What more could they possibly have planned? How much worse could things get? Will I be able to survive? He sounded so sure that I’d be fine, and I’ll be their wife. I can’t even begin to guess what else they could make as tests for us.
I force myself to take another bite of food, even though each swallow felt like lead in my stomach. I need to keep my strength up, but it’s hard to focus on something as mundane as eating when my future and life seem to be under the control of these people.