Chapter 5 #2
I shake my head, claw at his arm, his hand, fingers, trying to dislodge him. The tiles bite into my knees, and I feel the way, as I stretch up straight, my dress straining with the pull, the thin straps cutting into my shoulders.
“Penelope,” Billy says quietly, firmly, making me still on instinct, my breath coming hard and fast against the warm skin of his hand where it blocks my nose.
“You promised to trust me, I would never do anything to hurt you,” he coos, soft but violent, the undertone a sharpness he tries to hide.
“Physical pain is only temporary.” Those words again, sinking like a knife through my heart.
What does that mean? “I will look after you, there’re just a few things we need to do first so you can belong to me forever.
” His eyes plead, his words quiet, but I just don’t understand why we can’t just be together, why do I have to belong.
That word scares me, making me feel like my wings are clipped, gold bars falling around me in a cage formation without a door.
I stare at him, my breath still hard, my chest aching with heat where it rises and falls so fast. I want to trust him.
And I think, to some degree, I do. But only with my heart.
My head is telling me to run, even if running ends in my death, because I don’t understand what’s going on here, and I’m so sure I want to find out.
A single tear spills free, my eyes wide, burning without blinking as I stare into his gaze, ocean-blue with depths unseen. All I have wanted for what feels like my entire life is to be with him.
A big house full of dark rooms and low lights, just Billy and I.
Lovesick little demons creeping in the dark.
“Shhh, Little Lamb, it’ll all be over soon.” Billy’s eyes flick up, over the top of my head, his finger creeping higher on my cheek, wiping my tear.
A shadow falls over us, their presence a warm shift in temperature at my spine.
Billy, still smothering my face with one hand, my own hands gripped tightly around his forearm but not hurting anymore, just holding onto him, takes something from whoever it is.
Bringing it down from over the top of my head, the tail end of it grazing down the front of my shoulder.
My eyes widening when I see what it is, a thick strip of brown leather, like a belt without the buckle.
“I’m going to move my hand, and you are going to be silent,” he tells me firmly, not even glancing at what’s in his free hand, focussing only on me. “You’re not going to struggle.”
I heave in a breath at his words, panic ripping through me like a tornado. My entire body trembles and his mouth curls up at one corner.
“You’re only going to look at me.” His hand loosens a little, still pressed over my lips, and blood rushes back to my cheek and chin.
“You’re going to be a good girl and do as you’re told.
” His bright eyes flick between my dark ones, his brows lifting, “Okay?” His hand slips off the lower half of my face until he’s palming my throat, his thumb stroking over my hammering pulse. “Okay?”
I still say nothing, and it’s like his anger is suddenly doused with panic, his patience leaving him in a rush, and then he dips in, pulling me closer by his hold on my neck, pressing his forehead to mine.
“I’ve had to remember you for longer than I’ve known you,” his words a ghostlike kiss to my mouth.
“And I don’t want it to be that way anymore, Little Lamb,” I swallow, my throat bobbing beneath his palm, tears stinging my eyes, because he’s being sincere, I can feel it as deeply as my own emotions.
“Tell me you understand.” His eyes flutter closed, and he breathes me in deep, his fingers flexing on my throat.
“You have to say it,” he whispers, “or everything I’ve done for you will have been for nothing. ”
Tears burn my eyes, a few stray ones falling, rolling down my cheeks, because I’m scared of what’s to come, but I think I’m more afraid of what happens if I don’t comply.
The only thing worse than death would be having to spend the rest of my life without him.
I feel his words deep inside my bones, our separation hurting more now that I know what it’s like to have him back for a moment, a swirling cyclone of razor blades tearing through my gut at the thought of living without him again.
I was dying.
“Just do this with me, so we never have to feel like that again.” He kisses my lips, tasting my tears, licking over my mouth. “Okay, Little Lamb?”
I want to scream no, I want to know what’s about to happen to me, I want to know what all of this means first. But it’s clear, in this moment, that’s not what’s about to happen.
So I just mouth, “Okay, Billy.” The words are silent, my lips moving, but he hears them, even without the sound, because he knows me, even after all this time.
He’s the only person who does.
“Good girl,” he praises in that same hushed tone, drawing back from me, his eyes flicking from my mouth to my eyes.
He lifts the strip of leather up towards my face, “Bite down on this,” he instructs, “never look away from me,” he tells me as I do what he says, tasting the leather, breathing it in.
“You only look at me, okay?” I nod because that’s all I can do, it’s shaky, but not.
I almost feel a little bit lighter, having the instructions, not having to think, letting the panic melt.
“All you have to do is stay still and keep your eyes on me, don’t shut them, you just keep them on me. ”
Biting the leather, teeth creaking, my nostrils flared, Billy shuffles back from me, still on his knees, still facing me, and even when bodies approach me and him, I hold still.
Knees still grinding into the small mosaic tiles, I ignore the ache in my lower spine, in my ankles, my feet where they’re crushed beneath me, resting back on my haunches.
Bram steps up to Billy, handing him a matching strip of leather, presumably for between his teeth too, both of us in the same position.
Kneeling, vulnerable.
Billy’s eyes flick over my head, nodding to someone at my back, “Left side of her chest,” he calls out firmly, and then strong arms are looping through mine, wrenching them behind my back, knees on either side of my folded legs, my shins flush with the ground, and that panic flares bright again, my eyes wide, but I keep them on Billy, not struggling.
That is until Gore turns around.
In his now gloved hand, he holds a long piece of steel coloured metal, the end of which is glowing a fiery bright orange-red.
I’m shaking my head, trying to back up, but the man at my spine holds me still in a vice tight grip, his knees pressing painfully into the sides of my folded legs, my bottom pressing against his groin.
Nobody says anything, not until Gore drops down in front of me, tears clinging to my lashes, but I don’t cry, focussing my attention over his shoulder, on his brother, Billy’s eyes focused hard on me.
Strength.
That’s what I pull from him.
So when Gore whispers, “Par,” his breath ghosting across my lips, I don’t look into his dark green eyes, I hold onto bright blues instead.
But I can’t stop the scream, no matter how hard I try. It tears up my throat like a demon being exorcised out of me, muffled by leather, but loud enough to deafen. Fire and ice rips its way down my spine in equal measure, warring and blending as my teeth drill down into the leather strip.
I don’t breathe as Gore holds the brand steady against my chest, my temples pounding, veins and tendons in my head and neck straining so hard it feels like everything is going to snap, but I keep staring over his shoulder.
Even though my vision’s blurry, my lashes heavy with unshed tears, I keep my gaze on Billy.
And then the pressure is gone, the scalding burn remains, penetrating my bones, but Gore’s weight leaves me, my arms full of pins and needles are released and I fall forward onto my palms. The icy feel of the tiled floor is sticky against my clammy hands.
My head hangs forward, my entire body trembling with the sudden wash of cold, but my chest is burning an inferno hotter than hell.
Hair curtaining my face, tears stream down my cheeks, white splodges obscuring my vision, my head heavy, swaying on my shoulders.
And when I blink, chin lifting just enough for my eyes to refocus on Billy, I see his neck in the same taut pull.
His eyes glazed, leather in his mouth, upper lip pulled back in a snarl as Gore holds a branding iron against his skin too, in the same place as mine.
My elbows wobble, threatening to buckle with my violent shaking, but when I blink again, my head swimming me in and out of consciousness, Billy’s there. Right in front of me, his eyes on mine, expression hard, concerned. And he looks like my Billy for a moment.
The blue eyed boy who held me at night, cradled my head, curled his legs through mine, threatening the monsters that lurked, scaring them enough to stay away from me.
For one single second, my heart lurches in my chest, my soul springing free of my spine, trying to claw its way out of my body, get to his.
I want to pick at his skin with my fingernails, scratch and scrape, peel back his flesh, part his bones, climb inside of him.
Wrap myself in his safety and warmth, stitch me inside his skin, never having to feel cold again.
And then he blinks, his expression blank, the lines on his creased forehead smoothing. The warmth dies, coldness seeping free instead, and my hands shake harder as he pushes to stand, towering over me.
I’m afraid to look, staring down at the floor as I hear his belt buckle jangle, the button and zipper of his slacks working free.
I don’t protest when he dips down, his hands coming beneath my arms, his fingers biting the bare skin of my back as they hook under my armpits.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, manoeuvring me until I’m lying on my back.