Chapter 109 Liza
LIZA
The cold, damp air in the basement clung to my skin like a shroud. The roughness of the concrete walls scraped my skin as I tried to push away, but my body refused to cooperate. My wrists, bound above my head, burned, and I gagged at the metallic tang of blood fouling the air.
“Please,” I rasped. “Please don’t do this.”
“Ah, Liza, you still don’t understand.” Josef Wylde’s voice echoed through the room, colder than the frigid air that seeped into my bones.
He stepped out of the shadows with a cruel smile twisted on his lips.
“I’m doing this for you. It’s for your own good, my dear.
It’s time you learned to control yourself. ”
I wanted to scream, to tell him he was wrong, but all that came out was a choked sob. I shivered when his fingers traced my cheek, the icy sensation lingering long after his touch had faded.
“Let’s begin, shall we?”
My heart pounded as he raised his hand, and then pain exploded across my body, ripping through every nerve. He was tearing me apart. I tried to cry out but no sound escaped my lips. Through it all, my father’s laughter filled the room, mocking me, tormenting me.
Then just as suddenly as it had started, the pain stopped, and I was hanging by my arms, gasping for breath, the ground trembling with the aftershocks. I looked up at my father’s face looming over me, the cold smile still etched onto his features.
“Again,” he said simply.
“No!” I screamed, finally finding my voice. It made no difference. The pain returned, and my consciousness slipped away, falling into darkness...
I jolted awake, my heart racing, and a cold sweat covering my body. The remnants of the dream—or was it a memory?—clung like cobwebs. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the images. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the haunting memory of my father’s twisted smile.
“Are you okay?” Liam asked warily as I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning. His eyes widened and intensified as he took in my disheveled appearance. God, I must have looked a mess.
“Did my old house at Heather Falls have a basement?” I asked, shaking with barely suppressed emotion.
Liam’s brow wrinkled at the question, and he appeared to be searching his memories. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “Why do you ask?”
“Last night… I had this dream.” I took a breath to steady myself, the memories threatening to overwhelm me. “I was in a basement, and Josef was... he was torturing me. It was so real, but I don’t remember anything like that actually happening.”
Liam’s face drained of color, and his eyes held a haunted look I hadn’t seen in them before. It was as if he was looking at something far away, something horrifying. My gut clenched at the realization that it wasn’t just a dream but a twisted memory of something that had actually happened.
“Tell me,” I said, my body shaking with fear and uncertainty. “What really happened?”
“You were so young,” he said softly, the pain in his words cutting through me like a knife. “You were just a toddler. Our father... he used to take you down to the basement for training.”
“Training?” I asked, barely able to get the word out past the bile in my throat. “What kind of training?”
“Brainwashing,” Liam spat out the word with a thick layer of disgust. “He wanted to mold you into the perfect weapon, to bend your will to his own, and he thought that by subjecting you to physical and emotional torment, he could achieve that. It was sick, Liza. Wrong on every level.”
My nails dug into my palms as I struggled to process this new information. The air around me thickened, making it difficult to breathe as the truth settled onto my chest.
“Did you know?” I snapped. “Were you aware of what he was doing?” My stomach revolted, and I squeezed my mouth shut, swallowing hard to keep the contents of my stomach where it belonged.
“Hey,” Liam said gently. “I’m sorry you had to remember that, Liza. I’d hoped you were too young.”
“Too young to recall being tortured by my own father?” I spat out bitterly, glaring at him. There was no anger in his expression, only sadness and regret.
“Listen,” he said hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was gone by the time your… training started. Remember I told you Dad left me a book, though.” He grimaced as if the mere memory left a foul taste in his mouth. “It had all his twisted ideas about how to ‘train’ you.”
“Train me for what? To be his perfect little weapon?”
“Something like that. He believed that because of your unique abilities, you needed to be molded and controlled. It was sick, Liza. I couldn’t let anyone hurt you like that.”
My chest tightened as I tried to process all of this, to reconcile the man in my memories, the one I thought I knew, with the monster Liam was describing. The pain and fear from the dream—no, the memory—still lingered, forming a tight band around my neck, making it difficult to breathe.
“Is there anything else I should be aware of?” I asked. “Any other horrors lurking in my past?”
“Nothing I know of,” Liam said softly, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “That book… I want you to know something.”
I looked at him, my body tense with anticipation.
“I ripped out the pages detailing what he did to you. I burned them,” he said, his blue eyes filled with emotion. “I’d never hurt you like that, Liza. I swore to protect you and be there for you, no matter what, and I meant it.”
A wave of relief flooded through me, causing me to release a shaky breath. “Thank you, Liam. That means more than you could ever possibly appreciate.”
Outside, the wind sighed through the trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine.
I focused on that, trying to keep myself in the present instead of being swallowed by the darkness of my past. Liam’s hand on my shoulder was both comforting and heavy.
A reminder of the complex bond we shared.
As the day wore on, I couldn’t shake my unease.
My mind kept replaying the nightmare-turned-memory, the sensation of cold metal against my skin, and the insidious whispers of my father.
Even the laughter of the staff in the house as they went about their daily routine grated on my nerves.
I decided to move my pity party to the kitchen, where I could at least try to do something productive.
With my hands buried in a mound of dough, I tried to push the unsettling thoughts from my mind.
The kitchen was my sanctuary, and losing myself in the rhythmic kneading of bread usually soothed my frayed nerves.
Today, however, the ghosts of my past clung like a second skin, refusing to be cast off so easily.
“I’ve added rosemary. What to add next?” I murmured to myself, scanning the shelves for inspiration. My gaze landed on a jar of sundried tomatoes. “Hmm, a little Mediterranean twist might be just the thing.” I moved some jars and congratulated myself when I found one full of olives.
As I chopped the tomatoes and olives, the rich, earthy scent grounded me in the present. For a brief instant, I allowed myself to forget the darkness lingering on the edges of my consciousness and lost myself in the vibrant colors and flavors before me.
“Hey Liza,” Rosalie said as she walked into the kitchen, the tall shelves that lined the wall dwarfing her frame.
Her red hair was pulled back into a tight bun, emphasizing the slight flush that colored her cheeks.
She seemed off, hesitant, her eyes darting about the room as if searching for an escape route.
“Rosalie, hey. What brings you here?” I asked, keeping my face down, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil churning inside me. If she picked up on it, she didn’t comment.
“Uh… I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing all right. You were so out of it last time.” Even her voice sounded odd.
“I’m fine, honestly. I’m working on some new recipes right now, but we can chat while I do that.”
After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat awkwardly. “So… how are things with Liam? You two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
“Uh, yeah, we have.” Heat crept up my neck. “He’s been helping me with my training, trying to teach me how to control my power and stuff.”
“Is it going well?” she asked, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.
“It’s not easy, but I’m getting there.”
“Good,” she murmured, and I detected the relief in her tone. “I’m glad you’re making progress.” She stared down into the bowl. “What are you making?”
“Sun-dried tomato and olive bread.” My hands worked deftly as I folded the chopped ingredients into the dough. “I figured it might be a nice addition to our next pack dinner.”
“Sounds delicious.” Rosalie watched me knead the dough as if it held the answers to all her questions.
Unsure of why the girl was acting so uptight, I decided to give her something to do. Maybe she just needed to have busy hands. I’d promised I’d keep paying her till things settled down, but maybe it was worrying her more than she was letting on.
“Why don’t you put on an apron and make some of those tomato and mushroom souffles you made for Mrs. Henderson? They were so delicious. Ty and I can have them for dinner.” I moved along the worktop so she could work beside me.
“I’d love to, Liza.” For the first time since she’d arrived, her stiff demeanor relaxed, and we began our food prep in a companionable silence.
It didn’t last. I watched Rosalie’s eyes glaze over for the third time in as many minutes. “Earth to Rosalie,” I said, waving a hand in front of her face. “What’s going on with you today?”
“Sorry.” She blinked rapidly and grinned sheepishly. “I just... have something on my mind, I guess.”
“Clearly.” I nudged her with my hip. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or do I have to guess?”
Rosalie worried her lower lip with her teeth. Finally, she sighed and said, “Okay, so you know how Liam is really hot, right?”