Chapter Three
I knew who she was before she ever brought me to her room. Her scent alone gave her away. She didn’t carry the same stench of betrayal and malicious intent—not like her parents did. The girl was a walking contradiction in comparison to the people who had birthed her.
She fascinated me.
She’d still pay for what her wretched family had done to my sweet, sweet Savannah, but … I was interested in playing with her the most.
Her mother, Marcella, had long blonde hair with green eyes. Her father, Fabian, looked like a carbon copy. Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d assume the two were related—a classic Ken and Barbie. Ember, on the other hand…
Well, she had long black hair and green eyes.
Her hair had obviously been dyed to give her that edgy look she seemed to favor.
Her skin was pale like her parents’. Despite carrying similar facial features, she didn’t resemble them at all.
I’d been watching her for a couple days now.
She came home from school, gushed over her baby sister, talked to her mom, and lost herself in a book.
I should be bored.
I wasn’t.
There was just something about her that intrigued me, that made me content with watching her do normal, everyday things.
On the outside, she seemed tough and unbreakable.
But I could practically taste the innocence rolling off of her.
I wanted to take my time with this, to really make Savannah proud.
The door opened suddenly, and Ember stormed in, her face twisted in a scowl. She shoved her door closed and tossed her bag on the floor without a care in the world.
After sending me a brief glance, she dropped down onto the edge of her bed, plucking her phone from the pocket of her tight jeans.
She angrily typed out a message before pausing, letting her fingers hover over the screen.
I watched on in fascination, curious as to what had her so bothered.
When she deleted the message and tossed her phone on the mattress, she released a low grown and fell backwards on the bed.
Her breasts rose and fell with every intake of breath, her fingers twitching where her hands rested on her lower abdomen.
A thrill of excitement shot through me.
I couldn’t wait to have her at my mercy.
The doll was only an extension of me. My soul was tethered to the object, but I could leave it at any time, and I intended to do just that when the time was right.
What better revenge was there than forcing the virginity out of Marcella and Fabian’s oldest daughter? Their family might have been dysfunctional, but they both cared for her in their own, pathetic way.
Maybe I’d make them watch.
They could watch helplessly as their daughter was assaulted against her will, just like Tripp was forced to do.
Ember shoved her hands through her hair, sucking in another deep breath before pushing herself into a sitting position again.
She chewed on her lower lip for a few moments before rising and drifting toward her dresser.
Rummaging in the lowest drawer, she retrieved a few items before returning to her bed.
I watched as she placed a wad of toilet paper on the bed in front of her and pulled up the sleeve of her black jacket. Next, she took a razor blade and pressed it against the soft flesh of her wrist.
That was new.
I hadn’t realized my girl was a cutter.
She didn’t even hesitate before sliding it against her flesh, watching as the blood bubbled and pooled around the wound.
Her lips parted, her breathing picking up as the adrenaline hit.
She was fucking perfect. She made another cut right beneath that one, and then another.
Blood started running down her arm, wrapping around her wrist, and dripping onto the mattress.
How fitting.
A soft moan escaped her lips as she relished the way it felt. She’d completely given herself over to it. Something told me she’d enjoy blood play, and I was more than happy to help her with that.
Ember reached for the toilet paper and pressed it against her arm, soaking up the crimson liquid the best she could.
When she was done, she returned the objects to the lowest dresser drawer and made her way back to the bed. Just in time for her parents to start fighting down the hallway.
“Figures.” Ember scoffed, annoyance flickering across her face as she tugged the sleeve of her jacket down to cover her newest masterpiece.
She reached for her phone again, placing it against her ear after a few swipes of her fingers.
When whoever it was had picked up, she sighed out in relief.
“Hey.” A small smile tugged at the edges of her mouth.
“Yeah, everything’s okay,” she assured the person on the other line. “My parents are just fighting again.”
Deciding to leave Ember to it, I retracted from the room, pushing my spiritual body into her parents’ room instead. A flash of darkness zipped before my eyes before the room refocused.
Marcella was seated on the bed, her shirt lifted, and her tits exposed as she fed Isabella.
Shadows danced around me, but I made sure to keep my invisible wall in place, not wanting anyone to see me just yet.
Fabian was angry about something, his jaw ticking as he narrowed his eyes at his wife. “When are you going back to work?” he demanded stiffly.
Annoyance sparked within her gaze, her lips pressing together tightly. “Why?” she hissed. “So you can use our home as your bachelor pad?”
He took a step toward her, almost as if he was prepared to beat the shit out of her. But when he realized she was still holding the baby, he stopped himself. At least the bastard had some limits, even if it wasn’t much.
“I’m the only one bringing in any money.” He growled. “So, I can stick my cock into any bitch I please and you can’t do shit about it.”
Oh yes. I would enjoy torturing him the most. He clearly hadn’t changed much from high school. In fact, he’d only gotten worse.
Tears welled up in her eyes, her lower lip beginning to tremble. Even when she was working, she wasn’t making enough to make ends meet. Fabian was the main bread winner, and he knew it too. It was why he lorded it over her head.
Marcella was still a monster, and she’d still pay for the part she played all those years ago, but there was something different about her, too.
Unlike the man she married, she’d matured and taken on the role of motherhood.
Personally, I didn’t give a fuck if she was a saint now. They were all going to die.
“Then maybe I’ll do the same,” she whispered, tipping her chin up and letting him see the defiance in her eyes.
A low malicious chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Yeah?” He smirked. “Who would want to touch a run-through slut with stretch marks?” He shook his head; amusement plastered across his face. “There’s a reason I fuck other women, Ella. You’re loose now. Nobody is ever going to want you.”
He turned his back, reaching for the doorknob and slipped out into the hall.
Fabian grumbled all the way to the stairs, with me following closely behind him. As soon as he moved to take the first step, I summoned my shadows, allowing them to wrap around my hands and exude from my fingertips. Pushing them out toward the vile man standing before me, I released them.
The shadows slammed into his back, causing him to miss his step and tumble down the long staircase, his shouts ringing out through the house. He tried helplessly to grab onto something to stop his fall, but my shadows were blocking his path—not that he could see them. He couldn’t even feel them.
Somehow, he managed to protect his head during the fall, which meant he’d probably live. I didn’t want him to die yet, anyway. This was only the beginning of my reign of terror, and I planned on basking in it for as long as possible.