Chapter 29 #2
“Go to the place, Celeste. He can’t get you there.
If your mind is separated, you’ll be able to survive this.
You’re my daughter, you do not yield.” His soft voice plays over and over in my head.
I miss him so much. My conscience knew I needed him, I needed a piece of him at this moment.
I hold onto it for dear life, reminding myself that he’ll always be with me, even in spirit.
“Demon, why are you so silent now? All that control you had is slipping through your claws. Begone, you cannot use this body as your shell.” His voice rings, vibrating from the walls.
He moves the blade to my lower back and tips the end applying pressure before he makes his first slice. I make no move or protest but I let a laugh leave my lips. He growls, unhuman, at my outburst. Maybe he’s the one who’s possessed. It wouldn’t surprise me.
He moves again but to my upper back, slicing another line.
He does this over and over again speaking in a new tongue that’s not even human.
Yup, definitely possessed. His finger pushes into the cut he just made causing me to hold in a scream.
I’m going to absolutely demolish this asshole once I get my hands on him.
Thirty-three cuts I count as I grit my teeth.
He takes his time on each one, enjoying the art he’s created.
His fingers run over each one as if he likes the feel of my blood between his fingers and the feel of indents in my skin.
Admiring as if he won against the battle he was fighting.
As if he was saving me from the evil that possessed me.
Each touch makes my insides churn, fighting from vomiting from the pain and his revolting connection to my skin.
I can feel my body weaken and the pain becoming unbearable but I refuse to make a sound.
I refuse to let him think he won. A single tear leaves my eye, luckily the one pressed to the ground.
Time is nothing here, I can’t say for sure how long he took to create his art.
Each one has a purpose and is thoughtfully placed.
The purpose, I have no idea except that my mouth spews vile words that trigger his own demons to surface.
It’ll all be worth it, I tell myself. Sam and Monroe are safe and unharmed from further advances.
How long can I keep this going before he goes after them for my actions?
After the last cut, I feel the weight of his body leave my shoulders giving me some reprieve.
I can feel him hovering over me and a light flashes as if he took a picture to remember his work.
He needs the reminder of the good deed that he accomplished after the deep cuts close up to be raised, jagged scars.
He finally leaves me lying there as he walks up the stairs and locks the door.
I can feel blood trickling to my side from the wounds he inflicted. I make no attempt to move as I know, the shearing pain will take over and I’ll break completely. My body begins to shake and the cold air stings. I hear Samantha whispering a prayer that I survive this treatment.
“Celeste,” I hear Monroe whisper but I don’t respond. I can’t or I’ll shatter into a million pieces.
Iwish he had stayed away longer, leaving us alone as he did for long periods of time, but he’s back.
He sets items down on a metal table and scoots it towards me.
Jesus, how much more can he do at this time.
I figured he would have his fill after what he’s done.
Turning my head, I cringe at the pain that radiates off my back but I need to see what he’s doing.
He unlocks the bottom chains that are hooked on the floor and yanks Samantha forward. She struggles to get up with wobbly knees but does so with wide eyes. He guides her over to where I lie, metal cuffs on each wrist connecting to the chains. I’m unable to speak as if my voice was ripped from me.
“Clean her up. Make any move to defy me, your life ends. There’s alcohol, cloths, and ointment on the table. Work quickly. The Lord has said to do so, even though this demon does not deserve it,” he advises.
She moves towards the table and grabs the cloth and alcohol.
Bringing it with her, she crouches down next to me and pours it onto the cloth.
Gently, she dabs at the cuts trying to clean off the blood.
I wince at the burning sensation, causing my body to shake.
The pain finally sets in, making it almost unbearable to withstand.
I keep telling myself that I’ve been through worse, I’ve dealt with worse, but my body betrays me and I can’t find the void to escape to.
Tears glide down my cheeks that have been waiting to escape since the torture started.
The more she works on my back, the more it feels like the whole thing is on fire.
A scream rips out of my lips and I don’t miss the satisfied smirk he has through my squinted eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Celeste. Hold on. Please hold on,” Samantha whispers for only me to hear. Her voice is so small, begging me to keep going.
Do I want to keep holding on? Right now, absolutely not.
I want to be put out of my misery, beg him to get it over with but I know I can’t and I won’t.
The two females chained up alongside me deserve to go home.
They deserve to be untouched and unscarred.
Maybe this is what I get for the lives I took.
I always told myself those I killed deserved it.
That trying to be a hero now would be too late and we’re all going to die here.
It would all be for nothing if I don’t figure out how to get us out of here soon.
The reaper and the saints, all chained up like puppets.
Waiting for the puppeteer to dangle us to our next fate.
Fate is a fickle thing but I’m determined to cut the strings and let the reaper seep into the floors and walls until they can find the mark and dig their claws into the bastard who kept us caged.
I will be his ruin, his darkest nightmare that pulls him deeper down into the lightless pit of hell.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
The chain rattling breaks me away from my thoughts causing me to open my sandpaper eyes.
The bloody cloth lays on the table staring back at me, reminding me of the blood I had to spill.
My eyes avert back to the sounds of chains where Samantha is escorted back to her wall.
The ends of the chains are now locked around the hooks on the floor.
She curls her body back against the wall where it appears to be her safe space.
He doesn’t give her another look before he comes back to the table retrieving the items.
He brings the bloody cloth to his nose and inhales as if he’s savoring the good deeds he performed for his lord.
Once he finally has his fill, his heavy steps move towards me, looking down at the art he created.
His eyes trace every single cut he made, memorizing the placement, the length, the marks that will scar my skin.
“I believe we had a breakthrough, don’t you?’ He tilts his head to the side waiting for me to answer but I don’t. “Maybe now that the demon was sheared with pain, he will leave you for the time being. His influences only bring you dread, my dear. Do not let him taint your soul.”
I try everything inside me not to roll my eyes at his ridiculous little speech. I don’t have the energy to take more at this moment. Maybe this will be enough for him to stay away for just a little while. Give me time to refuel and plan out my next steps.
He steps away from me, pushing the metal table to an empty wall by the stairs before he does one more look over for any lingering items that would harm him within our reach. Once he’s satisfied, he leaves us alone in silence without a backward glance.
“Why did you do it?” Monroe’s quivering voice breaks the silence. “Why did you take something far more gruesome and interfere like that?”
I can hear the pain in her voice. Not the physical pain, but one that has so much sorrow and empathy.
Is the agent that hated my guts feeling sorry for me?
Maybe she can now see that I would never let harm come to those I love and those who are innocent.
Maybe the deceit she feels I gave was to protect not harm.
We’re both on the same side here and we have to trust each other in order to survive.
Maybe now, she will trust that everything that I do is to protect those who cannot protect themselves.
“Because saints don’t deserve to feel pain. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here. Sam is slowly losing her humanity. I have none left.” My eyes flutter closed as exhaustion from the pain takes me into long-awaited sleep.
The image of my father appears for a brief moment. His hand cups my cheek with a loving touch. His smile is full of sorrow and regret. He kisses my forehead, lingering for a few moments. Am I dead? Does this mean that it’s my time to finally join my father on the other side?
As if he can hear my thoughts, I hear, “I’m so proud of you, daughter. Keep fighting. It’s not your time yet.” He brushes my chin with his thumb before his touch, his form fades away.