Chapter 4 #2
“You should never have been born, girl. Didn't want a kid, and if I was forced to have one, I wanted a boy. What am I going to do with a girl? Useless. Pathetic. Waste of air. Should have beaten you right out of your mother’s body before you were born.”
Indigo tried to hold it in, but a whimper escaped anyway. Her daddy didn't like her to make a sound. Sounds bothered him, although she had no idea why. He was always so loud. Screaming and hollering. Yelling about everything.
When he drank, he was even louder.
Meaner too.
“You got anything to say for yourself, girl?” he snarled as he shoved away from the kitchen table.
There was no answer she could give that would stop the inevitable from happening.
If she answered, she was an insolent little brat who talked back when she should keep quiet, and he’d hit her for it.
If she didn't answer, she was an insolent little brat who had no manners and didn't answer a direct question when asked one, and he’d hit her for it.
Even at five, she knew there was no way she could avoid the coming pain.
Worse, there was no way she could hold in her tears as his fists connected with her tiny, fragile body.
“Answer me, girl,” her father snarled as his fist connected with her cheek, the force of the blow sending her flying out of her chair and sprawling onto the floor. A moment later, his boot connected with her ribs, and pain splintered through her body, making her scream.
Through teary eyes, Indigo saw her mommy sitting at the table, calmly finishing up her dinner like her husband didn't have their daughter on the floor, assaulting her.
The blows kept coming. His boots and his fists, hitting her over and over again until darkness started to fill her mind.
Didn't matter that she was only five years old, Indigo was old enough, experienced enough, to know that death was coming for her, and she wasn't even sad or scared about it.
“Come on, Indy, stay with me, honey.”
More coolness dotted her skin as the voice spoke, but it didn't even come close to easing the heat consuming her from the inside out.
Infection.
Some distant part of her mind was still cognizant enough to remember that.
Remember that the voice was Voodoo’s. A man who was supposed to be able to heal people. Only it didn't seem like he was able to heal her.
If she had the strength to do it, she would assure him that she didn't mind, that it was okay, that maybe it was just her time to go, and given that her life hadn't been pleasant, she wasn't all that unhappy about it.
Death couldn’t be worse than life, that she knew for certain.
But the reassurances that tried to come out got lost somewhere along the way, and she didn't have the energy left to summon to try to force them out.
Just holding onto a thought was almost more than she could manage.
“Here, drink this.”
An arm slipped around her shoulders, lifting her slightly. There was no pain at the movement, just a feeling like her skin was too tight for her body, and she was quite literally burning up.
Water sloshed against her lips, but she choked on it as it tried to dribble down her throat.
“Drink, Indy. You need the water, it’ll help cool you down,” Voodoo’s voice urged, but she didn't know how to tell him that she didn't have enough control left over her body to do as he asked.
How could she swallow water when it was like she’d forgotten how to breathe?
“Come on, honey. Hold on for me. Fight,” Voodoo urged, but the thing was, she didn't want to hold on, didn't want to fight anymore.
Didn't he understand she was tired?
Exhausted.
Every single day of her life from birth until now, twenty-nine years in total, had been a struggle just to survive. There was nothing wrong with wanting a break, with reaching the end of her rope and being ready for it all just to be over.
Maybe she should still have some fight left in her, especially now that Voodoo and his team had gotten her out of that hellhole of a lab.
But that didn't mean she expected anything better out of her future than she’d gotten in the past. Maybe she wasn't the prisoner of a psychotic and sadistic scientist, but what happened next?
It was hard to believe there wasn't someone else, equally as horrible, waiting in the wings to become the new villain of her life.
Damn, she sounded so morose, like she was throwing herself one major pity party.
That wasn't who Indigo Yates was. She was a fighter. She kept going, no matter how bad things were, she never gave up. But everyone had an end to their rope, and maybe she’d just reached hers.
“Time’s up,” the sun taunted, its big, round yellow face dancing in front of her.
Its smile was mocking, like it was enjoying what it was doing to her.
“Please, stop burning me,” she whimpered. “Enough.”
“Enough? It’s never enough, is it?” the sun sneered. “How many times have you already begged for it to be enough? Did your father ever listen? Ever stop? Your mom? Your first boyfriend? He certainly had some fun with you, didn't he, made what your dad did look like child’s play.”
Unfortunately, that was true.
Her dad hurt her, hit her, kicked her, and raped her when her mom had passed out and could no longer scream.
But he would hurt her then leave her for a while.
Her first boyfriend had taken great pleasure in playing psychological mind games with her, prolonging his torture and being inventive about it.
“Even your knight in shining armor turned out to be a devil in disguise, didn't he?” the sun asked with a laugh.
Of all the horrible pain the people in her life had inflicted on her, her ex-husband dumping her and telling her that she was never going to be good enough for him might have been the wound that hurt the most.
“Nobody wants you, Indigo. Nobody. Not your mom, who willingly stood by and let your father hurt you, not your dad, who wanted a son not a daughter.
Not any of the foster families you lived with, they only wanted a paycheck, didn't they?
A punching bag. Your first boyfriend wanted a victim to torment, and your ex-husband only wanted to pretend he was doing his good deed, making the poor, pathetic girl believe she was worth something.
But you're not worth anything, are you, Indigo? Do you know why?”
“Why?” she begged, needing an answer, needing to know what was wrong with her and why nobody loved her, why nobody cared.
The sun moved closer.
The heat crescendoed until it felt like she was on fire.
“Because you're nothing. Never should have existed. Nobody loves you, nobody cares about you, and no one wants you. Better off dead, aren't you, Indigo? No one will mourn you when you're gone.”
Heat consumed her, and she couldn’t take it a single second longer. The sun was right, she couldn’t offer a single argument.
“Just do it,” she screamed. “Just burn me to a crisp and get it over with.”